Chapter 19 Who’s Whose? #2
His shock was replaced by fury as he took my wrist and pushed my hand away from his mouth. “Drew—” he started, but I wasn’t having it.
“I’m trying to meet you halfway here, Lucien,” I cut him off, searching his gaze, letting him see my determination—and my worry.
“This is the least you could do to make up for the fact I’m now bound to you for eternity whether I want to be or not.
That I will never be able to love another person.
That I am going to worry about you till the end of days. ”
His face fell, and suddenly I was in his arms as he hugged me tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into my hair. “I’m so sorry, Drew.”
I hugged him back, and from behind him, I saw Anais, Enoch, and Thayer looking anywhere but at us. I realized then that they had witnessed our little spat, and that made me feel somewhat embarrassed.
But not embarrassed enough to deter me or make me feel any less relieved when finally, Lucien, still holding me, said, “Just this time, Drew. And never again.”
Lucien and I were lying on the bed together, both of us on our fronts. Enoch was ready next to Lucien with gloves on and some sort of an injection, while Anais, seemingly alert and ready, was holding open that thick book from before.
Thayer, bless him, seemed utterly lost as to what was happening.
He simply sat in that room and pretended to be a houseplant.
To be fair, he seemed to be in shock from everything he’d witnessed in the past few hours.
It didn’t look like he had processed it all, and I knew that when Thayer encountered information he had no context for, or that defied his own firm beliefs, he could go hours without speaking while his head was spinning.
That seemed to be the case now.
“On the count of ten, let the barrier go,” Enoch now instructed, drawing my attention to the task at hand.
Lucien and I looked at one another. His dissatisfaction was obvious. His face was set in a scowl I feared would become permanent.
Enoch counted, and as he did, I mouthed to Lucien silently, I’ll be okay.
That only made his scowl deepen.
“Ten!” Enoch called, and Lucien sucked in a deep breath and, without taking his eyes away from me, grew stiff.
The next moment, unfathomably excruciating pain exploded within me, so much so that I couldn’t even scream; my vocal cords were locked tight as the pain spread through my veins and all the way to my back like wildfire.
It was pain like nothing I had ever felt before. I held on to the pillow under my head and bit into it, too, to try and ride wave after wave of endless, horrible pain. It was like someone was trying to peel the skin off my back.
Tears burned my eyes as I attempted to hold on for dear life, but the pain was far too much to bear. Through a ceaseless ringing in my ears, I could faintly hear shouts. But opening my eyes wasn’t an option. Paying attention to anything else, really, was impossible.
All I knew was pain, and pain was all I was becoming.
There was also a pain in my side, where Lucien had been stabbed earlier, but it was nothing like what was going on in my back. In comparison, it felt like a faint throbbing.
Whereas it felt like lava was pouring over my back. I felt like I had been injected with acid straight into my veins. My muscles were locked, and I couldn’t even move.
Fear mixed with the never-ending pain. What if this went on forever? What if I would feel like I was being skinned alive for the rest of my life?
Then, what felt like hours—maybe even days—later, as suddenly as the pain had assaulted me, it suddenly stopped.
My throat constricted as if trying to take a deep breath of air, yet the muscles were still stretched taut.
I couldn’t move my body at all, with my hands still clutching the pillow and my teeth tearing its case apart.
Everything felt stiff and still, as if the pain were still there, still in effect, even though it wasn’t anymore.
“Drew.”
Lucien’s voice was hoarse and soft. I couldn’t respond to it. I could hardly even breathe.
“Drew, give me a nod if you can hear me.”
Could I nod? I tried, and a spasm cascaded through my spine, making me jitter as my head jerked, causing my teeth to release the pillow.
The fact I still had no control over my faculties even though the pain was gone made a deep sense of terror spread all over me, and I began shuddering uncontrollably.
“I’m going to touch you now.” Lucien’s voice cut through my fear. “If you can’t handle it, move your fingers.”
He must’ve seen me trying to nod and failing. But I didn’t move my fingers now, even if I could’ve. I wanted him to make it better if he could. To relieve my body from the trauma it had just endured.
Gentle hands hesitantly grabbed my shoulders from behind. Involuntarily, I jerked at the touch over my still-sensitive skin, but I swallowed my whimper and tried to remain still, despite my shudders.
Then, slowly, those hands began kneading.
Lucien was giving me a massage.
The tears fell down my eyes, wetting the pillow that was already damp from when I’d bitten it in a silent scream. It wasn’t because his touch hurt me, or that I felt any pain now; the tears were for him.
How could he have endured this kind of pain the whole time?
He’d mostly acted as if he wasn’t injured, to the point I had to tell him when he was bleeding, because he didn’t seem to notice.
How couldn’t he notice?
Lucien’s kneading grew more intense as he lowered his hands, massaging my upper arms, then my lower arms, before intertwining my fingers and clutching them to release the tension that still had them curled into fists around the pillowcase. Ever so slowly, I began feeling my muscles finally relax.
My fingers left the pillow then, and he warmed them up before moving back up to my shoulders. Then he started kneading my back.
I expected to feel pain, but instead, all I felt were his soft yet rough palms as they worked on my skin and muscle expertly. Faintly, I wondered how come a werewolf Alpha knew how to massage, but whatever the reason, I was utterly grateful he did.
When his hands reached my waist, he grabbed it and kneaded the little dimples in my lower back with his thumbs. I felt myself tense, though this time, it wasn’t entirely uncontrollable. In fact, the lower his hands roamed, the more a different kind of feeling rose to the surface.
A feeling that had no business being here right now.
The moment his hands grabbed my thighs, heat—a very different kind of heat from the pain before—lit up within me, causing a soft, needy pounding in a very specific spot between them.
At once, all I could think about was how I wished he would push my thighs apart and touch that aching spot with his nimble hands.
The moan that escaped me then was very much involuntary.
Lucien paused. “Does it hurt?” he asked, and was it my imagination, or was his voice a little lower than before?
I found that I had regained agency over my head, so I managed to shake it.
He resumed his movements, and I had to bite my lip not to moan again when he drew closer to my ass but didn’t touch it.
My heartbeat was now on overdrive.
However, the logical part of me suddenly whispered in my ear, Did you forget what he said about you being his Eteria? That you will be magically manipulated to lust after him? Love him? Isn’t that what’s going on here?
Was it? Because this felt real. I didn’t feel manipulated. The heat pooling between my legs was definitely of my body’s own doing, caused by Lucien’s innocent touch.
Is it really innocent, though? that voice questioned, obviously skeptical.
But I knew that it was. It had to be. That I was his Eteria wasn’t of his choosing; he’d said so himself. I doubted he would’ve chosen me given the option.
I mean, the man was earth-shatteringly gorgeous. And I was . . . average.
As Lucien went lower to massage my knees and then my calves, the desire slowly dissipated. My thoughts had poured much-needed icy water over any heat I might’ve felt.
A few minutes later, Lucien took his hands away from me and asked, “Can you move?”
My muscles were still stiff and aching but not as much as before. Slowly, I pulled myself up into a sitting position, wincing slightly at the groaning of my limbs, before I turned to look at Lucien.
He seemed completely haggard. His face was etched with rage, and his eyes were no longer arctic blue but almost an electric shade, practically spitting fire when he caught my gaze.
He growled, and the sound made my heartbeat quicken again, especially when he snarled, “Never again.”