Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Elena
When I woke up, pain hit me first.
Something in my abdomen felt torn open from the inside, pulsing with every beat, each throb shooting straight up my spine. I frowned and tried to move my fingers, wanting to push myself up. The moment my hand touched the sheets, another hand closed around it.
The hand was large, the palm warm.
My wolf shot upright, snarling a warning—then a familiar scent flooded my nose. Instantly, my wolf went limp, curling up again with a contented sigh.
Lucifer.
I turned my head. Lucifer sat in the chair beside the bed, elbows on his knees, leaning forward.
My hand lay in his against the edge of the mattress.
His head was down, stubble shadowing his jaw, dark circles carved deep beneath his eyes and spreading to his cheekbones.
His hair stuck up in messy strands across his forehead. Uncombed.
He was asleep.
I stared at him. His grip wasn't tight, but he hadn't let go either—loose, like he was afraid I'd run. My wolf stirred inside me. It wanted to speak, but its throat seemed blocked too. It just curled tighter and nuzzled my heart.
Something in my chest softened. I tried to slip my hand free, the movement barely perceptible—but Lucifer's eyes opened anyway.
Those gray eyes looked unfocused at first, blank.
When he saw me watching him, he froze for half a beat.
Then he shot to his feet. The chair legs scraped across the floor with a sharp screech—he'd moved too fast, nearly toppling it.
He didn't care. His other hand still gripped mine as he bent down and pulled me into his arms.
I sat there, stunned. His weight pressed against me, but carefully, holding back. Heat poured off him.
"You're awake." His voice came out raw, like he hadn't spoken in days, like coarse sandpaper dragged across his throat, grazing my earlobe. Lucifer's arms locked tight around me through the blanket. My face pressed against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat—fast, pounding.
I hesitated, then lifted my hand. My fingertips brushed the shirt on his back. He was trembling. His chin rested on top of my head, his breathing shifting from ragged to steady to ragged again, over and over.
"You were unconscious for five days." His voice came out strained. "I thought you'd never—"
He couldn't finish.
My nose stung. He cared about me, didn't he? Even if he didn't want me to carry his child. Even if he'd used me. Even if he might never know I was his mate. But he cared. In that instant, all the hurt from these past weeks deflated like a punctured balloon, slowly settling.
I stroked his back gently, my voice softening without meaning to.
"I'm back. I'm awake, aren't I, Lucifer?"
The bond tugged at me. I nestled into his broad embrace and closed my eyes. We stayed like that, holding each other. It was a scene I'd never dared dream of.
I wished time would slow down. Last longer. Stop forever, right here.
After his emotions settled, Lucifer released me and eased me back down, pulling the blanket up to my chin. His movements were careful, like I was made of porcelain. He sat on the edge of the bed, hand resting on the blanket.
"The servants killed themselves," he said. "Bit down on poison capsules hidden in their mouths. But we found out—they were from the Butcher Squad. Infiltrated the banquet posing as staff."
My heart clenched. I thought of Liam. Thank god I'd blocked that knife. If anything had happened to him, I would've lost my mind.
Lucifer read my emotions. He took my hand and cradled it in his palm. His hand was so large it could wrap around both of mine.
"Liam's fine." He paused. "Thank you."
You don't need to thank me. I'm his mother.
The words hovered on my lips but never made it out. I thought of my mother's warning, of how forbidden mixed-bloods were. I had to protect Liam. I'd keep this secret forever.
I looked up. Lucifer's eyes had been fixed on my face, but when they met mine, he jerked his gaze away to the wrinkles in the blanket.
Almost guilty, like I'd caught him watching me.
I wanted to laugh, to tease him—but then I saw his jaw, the stubble dark in the light.
The hollows beneath his eyes were deep, the shadows underneath even darker.
His lips were chapped and peeling. Strands of hair stuck to his forehead, uncombed.
My throat closed up.
"You've been here the whole time." Five days. He'd stayed by my side this entire time?
He fell silent. Didn't answer. My chest ached. Five days. He'd watched over me. Dealt with the Butcher Squad. Handled the Elder Council. Replaced all the suspicious servants... I tried to piece it all together in my head. Exhausting—that was my first thought. I couldn't imagine Lucifer's stress.
Silence spread between us.
The heat from that embrace was fading. After the emotions came the awkwardness. Lucifer seemed uncomfortable too, but his hand stayed wrapped around mine. My face flushed. I wiggled my fingers in his palm, brushing his skin like a feather. He gripped tighter.
"Elena—"
His voice dropped low, carrying some kind of implication. I understood. My heart hammered. Lucifer leaned closer, his breath washing over my face. I could see his Adam's apple bob. The bond awakened my body's memory of that night. Tingling sensations spread from my neck down my spine.
Damn it. I pressed my legs together. He was only getting close, and I was already reacting. And he had no idea, just kept saying those things that made my face burn and my heart race.
"Elena, I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't control wanting to kiss you..."
Lucifer's words came with difficulty, but his actions didn't hesitate. His lips hovered over mine. I was already preparing to moan—
"Alpha. Luna."
A maid knocked at the door.
Instantly, Lucifer jerked back. He released my hand and awkwardly ran his fingers through his hair.
The door opened. The maid entered with Liam, both bowing to us.
Liam peeked out from behind her, clutching something behind his back.
He glanced at me, then at Lucifer, his small face tight, lips pressed into a thin line.
"Liam?" Surprise colored my voice.
Liam pressed his lips together harder. He hesitated, then trotted over and stopped beside my bed. Quickly, he placed whatever he'd been hiding onto my blanket, then ran off.
It was a folded piece of drawing paper, made into a card.
"Liam worked on it for a long time," the maid said, smiling. "He said it's for you, but he's shy."
I opened it. When I saw what was inside, I couldn't help laughing. The paper showed a crooked stick figure—huge head, tiny body, limbs just lines. The figure had long hair. Next to it was a flower with white petals and green leaves. The lines wobbled everywhere. The paint bled outside the edges.
In the corner was a line of words, written with obvious effort, like he'd just learned how—"Thank you."
And a little heart.
I stared at that flower for a long time. It was the flower I'd drawn for him on the studio floor. He'd remembered.
"What is it?" Lucifer's curious voice came from beside me.
I flipped the paper to show him the drawing. He looked down at it, then back at me, sounding puzzled. "Is this... you?"
"Yeah," I said lightly, holding up the picture. "I've seen him draw before. This is how he draws people—big heads, small bodies."
My smile wouldn't fade. Liam didn't reject me anymore. He'd drawn me a picture.
"You really like Liam." Lucifer watched me quietly for a moment before speaking.
"Yes." No hesitation. "Of course I like him. I'm his mother—I mean, I'm the Luna, so... naturally, I think of him as my own, uh, because I married you—" God, what was I saying?
Lucifer's expression froze for an instant, then he stood abruptly, sounding flustered. "I-I need to go to the study. Rest well."
He turned and strode out, shutting the door.
I covered my face. So hot. What had I just said? "I married you." It was true, but in that context, it sounded so...
I buried my face in my hands.
My wolf spun in circles, tail wagging. Don't be embarrassed, it snickered. Your confession was a little roundabout, but it was sweet. You made Lucifer blush.
"Stop..." I flopped back down, surrendering, and picked up Liam's drawing.
But my lips curved up anyway. They were starting to care about me. Accept me.
A few days later, I could get out of bed. The wound still hurt, but I could walk slowly without help. A maid draped a coat over my shoulders. I said I wanted a walk in the garden.
The sunlight was warm. Dew on the grass had dried. The air smelled of earth and leaves. I walked slowly along the stone path, my skirt brushing my legs when the breeze picked up. Cool.
Then I heard voices. Children's voices, several overlapping, like they were circling something. I turned past the corner of the holly hedge and stopped.
Liam stood in the middle of the garden, head down, fists clenched. Three children surrounded him, half a head taller, wearing Silver pine noble uniforms. They held hands, circling Liam, singing—I recognized the tune, but they'd changed the words.
"Little bastard with no mama, gray-eyed mutt with dirty fur, your daddy didn't want your mama, your mama was a dirty whore—"
Liam stood there, fists clenched, his small face burning red, lips trembling. He wasn't crying, but his shoulders shook. His fists clenched tighter.
"I have a mom!" he shouted, his voice cracking.
The kids exchanged glances. The leader pointed at Liam. "Liar! Lina isn't your mom!"
Then he shoved Liam hard.
I ignored the pain and strode forward.
"Stop!"