Chapter 2
To my surprise, the afterlife feels nice. Someone is stroking my hair.
And I’m being held. Cradled. It reminds me of my childhood, in the arms of my mother after a particularly nasty nightmare. Except the fingers that graze my forehead now are much too large, the skin too callused, to belong to her.
They also tremble, as if brimming with barely-restrained strength.
I crane my neck, a happy sigh leaving my lips at the thought of those hands curling around my throat, and open my eyes.
A gasp shoots out of me at the face that blooms in my vision.
Striking amber eyes pierce me with an intensity that makes me feel impaled in the best of ways, pupils wide and all-consuming as they race up and down my body.
Thick, furrowed brows frame his golden bronze face, his dark hair mottled with waves of lighter brown.
His strong jaw clenches, his powerful neck muscles tightening as I let my gaze travel down the length of him, to the muscled arms holding me against his heaving chest.
His heaving chiseled chest.
This is, without a doubt, the finest male specimen I’ve ever laid eyes on, even in the thinning light of dusk.
And I think I know who he is, even though I never could have imagined the Monster looking this way in any form.
There’s just something about the tether pushing and pulling between our locked gazes that feels completely foreign and completely familiar all at once.
“Lucan?” I whisper up at him.
An awe-struck expression clouds his face. “Yes, baby?”
Scratch that. The afterlife isn’t just nice…
it’s heaven. Even though I know this isn’t the real Lucan—he couldn’t have possibly followed me into death so quickly—my imagination is doing a phenomenal job at conjuring up a fantasy version of him that already makes heat flood through me, tingling my nerves.
That voice, such a rough, deep tone, settles right between my thighs.
Smiling now, I reach up a hand and run my fingers along his jawline, marveling at the sharp shape of it. Lucan’s eyes widen even more, then close briefly at my touch.
“You,” I breathe, “are even sexier than I could have ever dreamed of.”
One of those thick, gorgeous eyebrows cocks up, and his mouth twitches.
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” I nod up at him fervently, content to lie against his chest forever.
“To be honest, I didn’t even know if the afterlife was real.
But if I could come back to life and preach to everyone about it, I’d tell them dying isn’t so bad, actually.
” I finally manage to rip my eyes from his face for two seconds to glance at the scenery around us.
“I mean, look at all these trees! The smell is invigorating.” I take a big inhale, and a giggle escapes me.
“And I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life. I mean, look at you.”
“More than in the bathtub?” Lucan teases.
His mouth stretches into a genuine, smirking smile, and I inhale sharply at the flash of canines. That’s strange.
The inhale filled my lungs with air so quickly, it hurt.
Almost like my ribcage is bruised.
But the afterlife shouldn’t hurt, should it? Out loud, I say, “Death feels more real than I thought it would.”
“You’re not dead, little nightmare,” Lucan says, his voice grazing me in all the most sensitive places again. “You’re just outside the Wall for the first time in your life.”
The smug glint in his eyes tells me he’s never going to forget my comment about him being sexier than I could have ever dreamed of. Or the turned-on thing. Or…
“Wait, wait, wait.” I try to scramble out of his arms, swearing under my breath when an ache shoots through my ribs again.
But Lucan’s grip doesn’t relent, and I go still, caught in his snare without a chance of escape.
“I’m…” I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of the Wall rising up behind me, of the mist overhead. “I’m alive? I didn’t…”
Splatter into a bloody heap on the forest floor? I can’t get out.
“No.” Something carnal and ferocious seems to swirl in the amber of Lucan’s eyes, but his throat bobs as he swallows it gruffly down. “I don’t know how you survived, Saskia, but you did. I caught you. And you’re just as alive as I am.”
For a moment, we stare at each other. Every part of my body heats and tightens, true sensation flooding through my system again as I realize…
I’m not dead. And this isn’t even a dream.
Lucan—the Monster—is here, in the flesh, pinning me in place with those eyes, his body so physical and rock-hard against me that I can barely breathe.
Then embarrassment creeps up my cheeks as I remember what I told him.
How I traced his jawline with my hand. How he’s holding me against his chest like I’m the prey he’s finally caught.
And when his lip curls up in another smirk, my eyes snag on his canines again.
They’re not as sharp or needle-like as Arad’s, but longer, thicker, and somehow more masculine.
Those canines wouldn’t pierce my skin or make me bleed, but they would bruise.
And why is that exciting me even more? Maybe I did knock my head a little too hard.
“Put me down, Lucan,” I try to say confidently, but the sincerity leaks out of my voice before it can even take root. In actuality, I don’t want this male to ever put me down again.
Lucan cocks his head down at me.
“No.”
“I said—”
“And I said no, little nightmare.” He only tightens his hold, crushing me against him. “This is the first time I’m able to touch you, and I’m not letting you go so quickly. Not when I can smell your desire to stay right here.”
I squirm in his hold—to no avail, of course. The effort is half-hearted anyway. “I know you have a good sense of smell, Lucan, but I don’t think strawberries and roses are capable of giving you any indication of my desires.”
“I’m not talking about strawberries and roses, Saskia. Not this time.” Lucan’s voice dips. “I’m talking about that sweet wetness pooling between your legs right now, drenching you through your clothes. I was never able to smell it with a Wall between us, but now…”
His nostrils flare, and my cheeks practically sizzle with mortification. I got so comfortable talking to him mind-to-mind that I forgot what a powerful, threatening force he actually is. He might not look like the Monster right now, but he’s sure acting like it.
“Well, I can feel your desire through your pants, so we’re even,” I bite out.
It’s true, actually. With my hip nestled up against Lucan’s groin, his hardness stiffens against me, and I actually have to suppress the moan building in my throat—and the urge to grab him.
I just fell from the Wall, I remind myself sharply. Arad is probably listening to the murmur of our voices from above. The people of Xantera are still in danger. Now is not the time.
Or the place. One more swift glance around me tells me how truly out of my element I am out here. Whereas I’ve always lived in perfect structures under bright fluorescent lights or in the palace surrounded by extravagant furniture and decorations, this is absolutely wild.
And somehow, breathtakingly beautiful at the same time.
Pine needles sprinkle a russet dirt floor beneath me, but we’re in the only bald spot as far as my eye can see—as if Lucan’s constant treading here stamped out any undergrowth.
But otherwise, ferns spring up between trees, moss cloaks the trunks all around us, and branches reach for each other with scraggly arms that create an intricate web of wood among the mist.
When I look up, a single drop of water plops against the tip of my nose and rolls down.
“C’mon,” Lucan says, his expression hardening over into something unreadable. His jaw clenches again, as if he’s biting back a million different words, but that glint of amusement still shines through. “Let’s get you inside before you get even more wet.”
Inside? Where are we even going? Is he taking me to his own house? Right now?
For some reason, the thought sends nerves shooting into my belly. Not because I’m afraid to be alone with him, but because I’m afraid I might finally meet the others he so rarely talks about. His fellow Monsters who can also shift between forms.
“I’m fine,” I try to say, even as more droplets sprinkle us from above.
“Maybe.” Lucan’s already spinning and striding into the forest, away from the Wall, with me still pressed up against his chest. “But I just watched you fall from a one-hundred-foot height, so I’m not taking any chances letting you stay out here and catch a cold.”
“That’s not even how colds work,” I argue.
“And you’re not walking yourself,” he continues, ignoring me completely. “Not until I get our medic to look at you and make sure you truly didn’t break anything.”
“I’m a healer!” I protest. “I’m pretty sure I would be able to tell if my own bones are broken.” I squirm, my hip knocking into his hardness again. “So you can put. Me. Down. Right. Now.” I push against his chest fruitlessly.
Lucan stops abruptly, the shadows of the woods pressing in on us. Dusk has bled into nighttime, and hardly any moonlight streams through the gaps in the trees and mist above, but I can still see the lift of his lips again as he stares me down, eyes two slits of glinting yellow in the darkness.
“I can carry you like you’re a princess, Saskia, or I can carry you like you’re a wicked little nightmare,” he purrs. “Your choice. But until I know for sure you’re safe and unharmed, I’m not setting you down. So which is it? What do you want to be right now?”
All my pent-up frustration and anger over the last several months seem to home in on him. Not because he’s the cause, but because he’s the outlet. And I swear, his eyes track the way my own spark up. I want this fight. Need to let it out as surely as my heart needs to beat.
And he knows that. He’s ready for every part of me.
So in response, I squirm and twist and kick.