44. Annalise
Chapter forty-four
Annalise
The taxi smells like old leather and pine-scented cleaner, the radio murmuring low as we roll toward town. I keep my head tipped back against the seat, watching buildings blur past the window.
Sasha is holed up in her room, deep into a spell she warned me not to interrupt unless the building was actively on fire. Emily left early this morning, grinning like an idiot as she headed off to spend the full weekend with her boyfriend. Hunter obviously can’t be seen in public with me. And Matt—
Matt absolutely cannot know I’m going shopping.
I check my phone again, even though I already know the time. Plenty of room. Plenty of excuses. I’m only running errands. Normal, boring errands that definitely don’t involve buying him a birthday gift.
The taxi pulls to the curb downtown, and I step out into the late-morning bustle.
Sunlight glints off shop windows, the street alive with people who look relaxed in a way I still don’t quite trust. I wander between stores, hands in my pockets, mentally cataloging ideas for Matt—things he’d never buy for himself, things that could barely begin to convey how much he means to me without being stupid and mushy.
While I've always gotten him something, I've never had a disposable income where I could afford to have something made specifically for him or get the latest model of whatever I find, like I can now.
I’m halfway down the block when my stomach drops.
Lucas.
He’s walking toward me from the opposite direction, taller and more muscular than I remember, though I haven’t seen him since before Matt kicked his ass. Since before I was attacked. My chest tightens, instinct screaming.
Nope.
I pivot sharply and duck into the nearest side street, heart hammering. He didn’t see me. Everything's fine. He won’t—
“Annalise!”
Too late.
I break into a near jog, but his footsteps close the distance faster than should be possible. His hand clamps around my arm, but I'm ripping free instantly, spinning on him, every nerve on fire, and every emotion simmering beneath my skin.
“Don’t touch me!”
Lucas freezes, both hands shooting up. “Sorry—shit! I shouldn’t have grabbed you. I only—” he swallows hard as his eyes take in my fighting stance. “I only want to talk.”
“Fuck off, Lucas.”
“Please, Annalise,” his voice softens to a level that I haven't heard since I broke up with him, “Please hear me out. I know I don't deserve it, but still, I'm selfishly asking.”
I'm almost impressed by the balls on him after all he's done.
"What do you want?" I snap.
"To talk," he says, and I'm immediately turning toward the closest store so I'm not alone. "To apologize, Annalise,” he murmurs, head hung low. "I only want a chance to apologize for...everything. Please," he borderline begs, and I can't help the pang of empathy I feel for him.
“One lunch,” he says quickly, seizing my hesitation on the word no. “Let me buy you lunch. If you still want me gone after, I’ll disappear. I swear.”
I hesitate. I don’t know why. Maybe because, if gossip can be believed, he came almost as close to death as I did. Or maybe because I know what it’s like to wake up changed, missing pieces of yourself.
"Fine," I sigh. "But you're buying. And if you try anything stupid, I'm leaving."
His smile is almost contagious as the hostess approaches. "Deal."
"Sorry about the wait," the hostess says, giving Lucas a full body once-over. "Are you two together? Orrr..."
I'm too concentrated on trying to find the words to publicly explain our situation to register him saying, "We're together," until she's already deflating and we're walking toward a secluded table on the patio.
"Your server will be with you in a few minutes," the hostess says, never bothering to even glance in my direction.
"Thanks," Lucas smiles back, and I immediately want to punch his smug face.
We look over the menu in silence other than when Lucas reminds me he's buying and tells me to order whatever and however much I want.
Once our server has taken our orders, an unfortunate coincidence that we like our burgers the same way, extra pickles, no onions, I fight the glare I want to shoot the waitress as she gushes over 'how cute we are.'
She's barely out of ear shot when I finally snap, "What do you want Lucas?"
He chuckles before meeting my eye. "I meant what I said earlier, Annalise.
I want to apologize. I have always been under my dad's thumb.
It took me getting to my squadron, and finally getting completely away from him before it really hit me precisely how much I was becoming the man he had tried forever to mold me into rather than the man I want to be. "
"And who's that?" I ask, still guarded but urged on by the need to hear him out.
"The man who always wanted you," he says, practically shouting over the raised voices of the large party sitting directly to our right.
"Lucas—" I start, not sure of what I'm going to say, but thankful for the waitress loudly clearing her voice beside us, "Is there anything else I can get you before you two dive in?" she asks, gently setting our plates in front of us.
"All good, thank you," I rush out before falling into a blissful food-induced silence as I take my first bite.
Neither of us speaks until we're waiting for the bill.
"Was it just me, or were you nervous to shout anything in case everyone chose to go silent at once?"
I concede a small smile, "I can't say that was on my mind, but I can't say I wouldn't have laughed if it happened to you."
Lucas clutches his chest, mock wounded and smiling like the boy I first agreed to date.
"Will you let me drive you home? Please," Lucas begs, and I'm not sure if it's the guilt of Matt almost killing him or the new side of him once seen today, but I find myself nodding before I can think better of it.
"Thank the Gods," he sighs, hand floating above my lower back in the too-scared-to-touch-you way I would have been irritated by until he did it as he guides me to his car.
"There will never be enough words to tell you how sorry I am, Annalise. For any and all of the shit I've done..."
"Lucas—"
"Please let me get this out," he begs in a way that makes me shut up immediately.
"I thought I'd hit the jackpot when you agreed to be my girlfriend my junior year," he quietly admits.
"What you heard me tell the football team, it was just me being a dumbass because they were giving me shit about being a virgin still.
I never meant to hurt you, you have to know that," he pleads, leaning in and setting off every warning bell in my mind.
Before I can stop him, his lips are on mine, tongue pushing its way into my mouth and making me gag.
"No!” I try to scream, and push him back, but he doesn’t budge. The kiss feels like it lasts forever, but I’m sure it was only a few seconds.
"They were supposed to wait until I got there to do anything," his voice comes out demonic as I try to get away, "but I guess I should count myself lucky I got caught up after graduation while you were murdering them."
"They were going to rape me!" I scream as tears run down my face.
I try to morph myself to be bigger? Smaller? Anything to help me escape, but I'm drowning in too much fear to concentrate.
His answering full tooth smile has goosebumps coating my skin, "Don't worry about trying to impress me Annalise. He's promised I'll get you all to myself when this is all said and done," Lucas whispers.
"Who promised you? What are you talking about?" I demand.
His hands trace my curves as I throw hit after hit.
"Shhh, Seiri," he says, his voice suddenly gentler.
"Get the fuck off of me!"
"Seiri. Shhhh. You're safe."
Realization hits me as I finally recognize the voice.
"Hunter? Help me please!" I cry out, desperate to escape his words echoing in my mind.
"Seiri, I'm right here. Wake up, Baby. That's right; open your gorgeous eyes. I'm right here. It was just a dream."
My body trembles from the anticipation of the fight.
I should have known then it was going to be a terrible day.
The first time I miss, he doesn’t say anything.
The second time, he steps far enough out of the way that my momentum betrays me—and then taps two fingers between my shoulder blades.
Not hard.
But enough.
I stumble forward with a sharp breath, boots scraping dirt as I catch myself. Irritation flares hot and immediate. “You could at least pretend you’re not enjoying this.”
“I could,” Korr says, voice calm behind me as he circles. “But then I’d be a liar, and I don't lie to you.”
I turn to face him, lifting my hands again despite the ache already threading through my arms. “Good, because I fully trust you to be insufferable.”
“Good,” he replies. “We’re making progress.”
I lunge.
This time he doesn’t dodge—he catches my wrist mid-strike. His grip is firm, grounding, heat bleeding into my skin like it belongs there. He twists, hard enough to redirect me, and my body reacts on instinct—
“Again,” he murmurs.
I don’t think. I move.
Elbow. Turn. Step inside his guard.
He blocks, but slower.
“Better.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I shoot back, already breathing harder than I want to be.
“You were worse yesterday.”
“You stabbed me yesterday!”
“It was barely a prick, and it looks like you learned from your mistake…” Another infuriating grin spreads across his face. “One could argue a ‘Thank you’, would be appropriate, but seeing that this is my job, I’ll let it pass.”
“Thank you? You’ve got to be—”
“Aww you’re welcome,” he sickly gushes right before his leg sweeps mine out from beneath me.
My back barely hits the ground before I'm surging upright again, teeth bared as I swing.
He ducks.
I adjust and press the attack.
Move. Countermove.