“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“Leah.”
“Well? Are you?”
“Of course not,” he said on a sigh.
“No, of course not,” I shot back. “Had your fill last night, did you?”
His face grew dark as his arms grew tighter, just to the edge of pain but not quite there. “Listen to me, pet.”
“Stop calling me that,” I hissed and watched his face grow even darker.
This should have scared me.
It didn’t. I knew the worst he could do, outside actually finishing the job.
Ignorance is not bliss. Ignorance is torture.
“Are you going to f**k me?” I snapped in the face of his anger.
His head jerked before he asked, “Pardon?”
“Fuck me. You fed last night, you’re no longer hungry but you’re still here. I’m wondering why? I’m wondering how I’m meant to service you now, Master.”
His arms tightened again, going over the edge of pain for a fleeting second before he rolled me to my back and settled some of his solid weight on me.
His hand went to the side of my head, his fingers curling into my hair there, not gentle, not entirely painful either.
I looked into his face and it was carved from stone but his eyes were blazing like last night, but not with hunger or desire.
With fury.
Okay, so maybe now I was a little bit scared.
His eyes burned into mine for long moments before he pulled in a deep breath.
On his exhale, he said, “Considering what happened last night, Leah, I’ll let your behavior go this morning.”
“Well, thank you,” I returned with deep sarcasm.
His hand tightened in my hair. The not entirely painful part became a little more painful but not unbearable.
“Don’t try your luck,” he warned.
I really wanted to try my luck. Every bad trait that was me screamed at me to try my luck. Instead, my eyes slid to the side then I closed them so I didn’t have to look at him even in my peripheral vision.
“I hate you,” I whispered. It sounded weak, even scared and I didn’t care about that either.
His fingers loosened in my hair and he replied softly, “That’s understandable.”
With my head mostly freed, I turned it on the pillow away from him.
“Please go,” I begged.
He began sifting his fingers through my hair at the side of my head. It felt good. I didn’t want it to feel good and I hated him for that too.
His deep voice cut through my thoughts. “I’ll go, Leah, but I’ll be back tonight.”
My eyes flew open and my head jerked back to facing him.
“Tonight?” I croaked, my voice broken with fear.
His middle finger touched my temple gently then his hand flattened carefully against the side of my face. “Tonight.”
“But, you can’t need –”
“I’ll not be feeding.”
Oh my God. That meant we’d be…
“I’ll not be f**king you either,” he went on.
I shook my head. “Then why are you coming back tonight?”
“We need to talk.”
I stared at him a second before shaking my head again. “No, we don’t.”
“We do.”
“We don’t.”
He sighed again and his face dipped closer to mine. I sucked in my breath.
“We do,” he repeated.
Now I was angry, freaked out, hating him, terrified of him and confused.
“But I thought –” I started.
He cut me off. “Tonight.”
“Lucien –”
His face dipped even closer, so close I didn’t suck in breath. I quit breathing altogether.
Then his lips touched mine, briefly, softly. Then he moved from the bed.
I got up on an elbow. This took it out of me, my head swam alarmingly and I fell back down.
Whoa.
What was that? What the hell was that?
Before I could process this, he was back, dressed completely except his suit jacket was bunched in his large hand.
He leaned in, put a fist in the bed on either side of me and got close. “You need to rest, pet. All day,” he ordered.
“But –”
“Rest.”
“But –”
“All day.”
“But –”
His mouth touched mine but he didn’t kiss me and he kept his eyes open, boring into mine.
I quieted.
“I took too much from you last night,” he murmured against my lips. “You need to rest.”
My mouth opened under his and I began to speak, “I –”
I stopped speaking when his tongue darted in and touched mine, startling me. It was a fleeting touch but even so, his open eyes kept mine captive and I registered a distinct, excited flurry in the region of my belly.
Now.
Exactly.
What was that?
A flurry? Caused by a kiss from my near-murderer?
That proved it. I was deranged.
“Rest,” he whispered against my mouth.
Before I knew it, he was gone.
* * * * *
I opened my eyes again when I sensed movement in the room.
It was light, I could still see the sun shining around the curtains so it was not yet “tonight” which meant, I hoped, the movement wasn’t Lucien.
It wasn’t. It was Edwina tiptoeing around the bed.
“I’m awake,” I announced, cautiously getting up on an elbow.
She jumped at the sound of my voice and whirled to face me.
“You’re awake,” she repeated.
I nodded, focusing on her. She was a beautiful, older woman, older than my mother. How I knew this I didn’t know because her face was nearly unlined but I guessed it to be true. Her hair was thick, long and white and it looked soft. It was pulled back in a ponytail at her nape. Like yesterday, she was wearing a gauzy outfit, a swirly, peachy-pink skirt and beige-pink flowy blouse cinched with an equally flowy scarf belt low on her waist.
She looked like a stylish hippie. Strange but true.
“Lucien spent the night,” she declared on a strangled whisper.
I kept staring at her.
Then I asked, “What?”
“Lucien,” she said then spoke no more.
“Yes, Lucien –” I prompted.
“Spent the night,” she breathed in what sounded like deep surprise.
God, she was weird.
“Yes, he did,” I replied slowly.
“Why?” she asked, still in a breathy, stunned voice.
Why did Lucien do anything? Because Lucien wanted to, that was why.
“He just did,” I answered.