What had he done? God help him, what had he done?
Images of his father’s smiling face, always smiling, the charismatic bastard that he was, rose up to torment him. Join me, Lucian, you’re blood of my blood. We’re the same.
How many times had he told Lucian that over the centuries, reminding him of his heritage, that he’d been created by a psychopath. Lucian knew, deep within his soul, that of all the brothers he was most like Daniel, created in his image.
Claire, I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t help myself.
And there it was, the absolute truth that Lucian hadn’t wanted to stop taking from Claire, so he hadn’t.
Claire. Please come back.
Claire.
Claire.
* * *
Claire.
Claire heard a man’s voice, but he sounded so far away. Her mind seemed to be drifting in some kind of fog.
Where was she? Lying down, but too weak to move. She moaned softly and the arms that held her tightened suddenly.
You’re alive.
Of course she was alive. Sort of. She felt so strange, as though she could barely make her mind work.
Where am I?
Just lie quietly. My serum will restore you in a few minutes. You’ll be weak for a couple more hours, but no longer than that, I promise.
Why was this man promising her anything?
Why did he sound so desperate?
Who was he?
The gray fog started lifting from her mind. Her bare br**sts were smashed against the hard planes of a man’s chest, of Lucian’s chest. She was on top of him.
Why?
Maybe that was the dumbest question she could ask.
The smarter one came to her: Why was she so damn weak?
Oh, that’s right. Lucian had been drinking from her.
He’d sexed her up that way, made her feel impossible things.
She opened her eyes, looking at a nightstand and a lamp. She was essentially in bed with a vampire.
She tried to lift up and off Lucian, but she couldn’t move. She was too weak.
Oh, my God, he’d drained her.
Lucian, you almost drained me dry.
He didn’t answer her, but his arms grew slack. He patted her shoulder. “I was out of control. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
As the memories came flooding back of what the sex had been like, she moaned softly. He had been amazing. He’d come more than once, and because of it so had she. Sex had never been like this before.
“I’m going to lift you off me now, okay?”
Then she felt him low. They were still connected. “That’s fine.”
He slid his hands under her arms and lifted her, gliding out of her at the same time. He swiveled and laid her on her back next to him. He sat up and released the ankle restraints.
When he was free, he once more stretched out next to her, then turned to caress her face. “I’m so sorry, Claire.”
He looked sunk in his guilt, and she didn’t want him to feel that way. Her blood-chain vibrated with his shame.
He watched her for a long moment, then finally rolled onto his back as well, pulling the sheet up at the same time.
He stared up at the ceiling, but remained silent.
Then she felt it, a stream of sensation that she’d only sensed in small pieces. For a long moment, as the dark waves rolled over her, she tried to understand exactly what he communicated. Shame and remorse had all but drowned Lucian. He’d fallen deep into the pit of those feelings, one of the reasons the chains barely spoke to her. Old wounds surrounded him, spoke to him, assaulted his mind.
She looked up at the ceiling as well, the beautiful light-blue waves, like the ocean, flowing over the top of the room.
She felt better. The serum in her blood was working quickly, giving her more strength than she would have thought possibly in such a short time.
Lucian had been right: She was recovering at light-speed. Drained to the point of death, yet she lived.
But above all, she needed to remind herself repeatedly of what had just happened, that she’d almost died because Lucian had lost control. She had no intention of dying before she had a chance to rescue Zoey, and then to return to her former life in Santa Fe, to see her parents and brothers again.
She sat up, further indication of her progress, then slid off the bed, heading into the bathroom. A shower sounded like exactly what she needed.
She felt the warning tug at her neck, letting her know that she’d reached the proximity limits of the blood-chain.
As she stepped into the steaming shower and lathered up, she knew she had to do better with Lucian, to suppress what was proving to be a profound attraction and desire for the man. She washed her hair and applied a crème rinse, all the while searching for some means by which she could resist him. Unfortunately, nothing very specific came to her.
Toweling off, she was almost dry when she turned to find Lucian standing in the doorway, the sheet wrapped around his waist. He leaned an arm against the upper jamb, which revealed the powerful angled line of his chest and waist. Just looking at him, however, caused her resolve to falter.
She felt a flush cover her face and neck that had nothing to do with embarrassment. His navel was exposed along with his well-defined abs. What he could make her feel just by standing in a doorway. She honestly didn’t know what she could do to stem this tide.
She cleared her throat. “Everything okay?”
He held her gaze, nodding. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
Her brows rose. “For what?”
“For blood. For sex. For giving me what I needed despite your reservations. I know this isn’t easy for you. And it’s not easy for me, either, knowing that you’re having to do things that you otherwise wouldn’t.”
Her gaze drifted to the tiles of the floor as she thought about what he said. When she looked back at him, she took a deep breath. “I need to keep this simple between us and sex is never simple, at least not for me. I tend to get attached, and I don’t want that. When all this is through, I’ll need to go home to New Mexico.”
“I know.” His frown formed a ridge between his brows. “Then we’ll keep it simple.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “You want a shower?”
“That would be great.”
Wrapping herself up in her towel, she gathered up her toiletries. But when she tried to move past him, he caught her arm.
“Claire.” The resonance of his voice alone forced her to look up and meet his gray eyes. Right now they weren’t steely at all, as they could be at times. Instead they were warm and almost questioning—concerned.
Now more than at any other moment, even through the difficulties of altered flight or having Lucian almost drain her dry, Claire wished the whole thing undone. She felt horribly vulnerable, a state she despised. She didn’t want to desire a vampire this much.