Until the Sun Falls From the Sky

Chapter Fourteen The Explosion

“What’s happened to Leah?”

Even after hearing Stephanie’s whispered question, Lucien didn’t take his eyes from Leah as she slid away from them through the crowded room.

He heard Leah saying softly again and again, “Excuse me,” as she moved amongst the crush of opera patrons on her way to the restroom. Sometimes she would give them a small polite smile.

As she moved and spoke, the patrons turned to look.

The men would keep looking. The women would either stare or glare.

She disappeared from sight and Lucien’s eyes stayed where he last saw her.

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since their Sunday together, a day that started unbelievably well and ended unbelievably badly.

And then she had her dream.

“Lucien?” Stephanie called but, lost in thought, Lucien didn’t respond. He continued to watch the entrance to the hall where he’d last seen Leah.

He feared he’d broken her. Not how he’d intended, in a way he could never have imagined nor would ever have wanted.

For the first week, he saw her come through every once in a while. Often her eyes would flash. Other times she’d look painfully and hilariously undecided, as if she had one reaction but was forcing herself to display another. She also lost her patience while attempting to make him some complicated soufflé that went tremendously badly however her foul-mouthed tirade after it collapsed was immensely entertaining.

The disastrous soufflé gave him hope.

So did the dreams.

She’d had four more, all the same. All of them starting with her moving, nearly writhing against him as if in ecstasy but this would end abruptly in a blood-chilling scream.

Seconds later, he’d hear her words whispered in his head.

I love you.

Shortly after came the choking sobs, she’d wake and attempt to flee. He’d catch her and hold her until her trembling and tears ceased.

After the second dream they’d stopped talking about it. She would simply hold onto him in a way that felt desperate. He’d stroke her back or her hair until her body relaxed and she fell asleep in his arms.

Lucien closed his eyes tightly as the words sounded softly in his head.

I love you.

Those words, those three fucking words, whispered in his head.

It wasn’t even the words, it was the way she said them. As if she’d pulled them out of her soul and offered them to him like a gift.

And he knew she was talking to him, dreaming of him. She wouldn’t be in his head if she wasn’t. He wouldn’t be able to hear it.

He also knew she wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t remember. Something was blocking the memory, likely the power behind the emotion of whatever made her scream and sob in such a fucking heartbroken way it was difficult to witness.

Lucien didn’t know what to make of the intensity of her dream and the aftermath or what they meant to him or Leah except it was pretty clear her earlier hostility toward him, and now her deference to him, were defense mechanisms. He’d managed to establish a connection but she wasn’t allowing herself to embrace it.

Even so, he didn’t like that Leah had them.

Her terror was stark, her pain palpable and he was powerless to stop them, a feeling he never felt and one he didn’t much like.

But he had to admit, he was intrigued by the words and the intensity with which she spoke them.

Even if he felt somehow tortured by them.

It was the dream, and the soufflé, that made him think she’d never be able to continue her latest game.

However, the last two weeks, except for when she had the dreams or when he was feeding and even then she seemed to hold herself back, all that was Leah had vanished. It appeared not to be a struggle in the slightest.

None of his Leah came shining through even for a moment.

She was like every concubine he’d had for five hundred years. Perhaps not as worshipful as some or as obviously greedy for the feeding as others but mostly just the same.

He missed her.

He actually missed their verbal tussles, her comical one-liners delivered when she was angry, her strength of will, her stubbornness, her curiosity, her spirit which filled the house.

All that was gone, including his anticipation of coming home to see what she’d be up to next.

“Lucien? Luce? Helloooo, Luce! Are you in there?” Stephanie called and Lucien’s gaze moved to her.

“Sorry,” he muttered and Stephanie’s eyes narrowed on his face.

“Something’s not right in Lucien and Leah Land,” Stephanie noted.

Lucien took a sip from his drink before saying, “Everything’s fine.”

“Doesn’t seem fine to me,” Stephanie shot back. “Leah looks like Leah, gorgeous as ever. And she smells like Leah. And she walks like Leah. And talks somewhat like Leah. But she’s not Leah.”

Finally Lucien’s eyes focused on his friend. “This isn’t any of your business, Teffie.”

Stephanie was one of the very few (in fact, there were only two, her and Cosmo) who would look at Lucien’s face at that moment and issue a challenge.

And that was what she did.

“Well, I beg to differ. Leah’s become my friend and I’m worried. I’ve been over there twice this week. It’s like I drove into Stepford and it’s eerie. I don’t like it and Edwina is none too happy either.”

“Everything will be fine,” Lucien said, turning to look back toward the hall.

“I hope so, Luce, and I hope you make it soon. Because there is no way a woman like that can hold back that much without exploding and I’m not certain even you will want to be around when she lets it all out.”

Lucien sliced a glance at her, the tone of his voice making his words crystal clear. “We’re done talking about this.”

Stephanie held his gaze for long moments then changed the subject to one that was only slightly less annoying.

“Rumors are flying,” she informed him.

“Rumors always fly,” Lucien returned dismissively.

“Not rumors like this,” she retorted. “Heard word that The Council is going to open an investigation tomorrow into what you’re doing with Leah.”

Lucien glanced back at the hall with unconcern. “I’ve heard that too.”

“Well, I bet you haven’t heard that Rafe told Dante who told Hamish who told me that he’s considering moving in with Lana Buchanan.”

Lucien’s narrowed eyes sliced back to Stephanie.

“Thought that’d get your attention,” she muttered.

“Tell me you’re joking,” he demanded.

She shook her head.

“What’s he thinking?” Lucien ground out.

“I’m guessing the same thing as you. He wants more than Lana’s blood. The Buchanans are a tasty lot. I had one myself years ago, I know. You boys like different smells though and you want to get yourselves some of that.”

Lucien’s body moved, turning toward Stephanie in a way that made her tense.

“Are you bored, Teffie? Do you want me to challenge you?”

“I’m saying it like it is,” she returned.

“If all I wanted was a piece of ass, I would have seduced Leah twenty years ago.”

“Oh right,” Stephanie scoffed, “you want the taming.”

Lucien, who, these days with Leah behaving the way she was, had little patience, lost the little he had.

“What are you driving at?” he clipped.

“What I’m driving at, Lucien, is I’m all for this. Vampires being vampires. These ridiculous rules being shattered to smithereens. I want the hunt, just like we all do. I miss it. I yearn for it. The problem I have, right now, with you, is that you’ve gone off target. You’re messing with Leah and things are obviously not right.”

“Stay out of it, Teffie,” he warned.

“She’s changed,” Stephanie shot back.

“She’s changed before. You know how it is, how they fight it. She’ll change again.”

“I suspect she will but are you prepared for when she does?”

For the first time in days, Lucien smiled. Stephanie growled.

Then she hissed, “You don’t get it, do you?”

Lucien’s smile grew arrogant. “Not right now but I’m going to.”

Stephanie leaned in. “What, exactly, do you think she’s working so damned hard to protect herself from, Lucien? Have you ever thought of that? You’ve tamed many mortals, what happened with the one who gave you the toughest fight?”

The smile died from his face and Lucien felt himself flinch. Stephanie saw it and went in for the kill.

Speaking quietly, she said, “That’s right, she fell in love with you. Luckily for Maggie, you fell in love with her too and you could make her your mate. That isn’t an option for Leah. So what happens to her when she directs all that feeling and life-force inside her at you then, when you’re done with her, where does she go from there?”

I love you.

The words spoken in Leah’s heartfelt whisper, like they did time and again, day after day, came unbidden into his head.

Lucien didn’t like what he was feeling.

“Stay out of it, Teffie.”

“I’m in it, we all are.” She got closer. “If Rafe moves in with Lana, takes her as a lover, The Council is not going to look kindly on what you’re doing with Leah. They might have before, to pay back their debt but this is spreading. They’ll want to nip it in the bud and the best way to do that is shut down its source.”

“I’ll talk to Rafe.”

“Yes? And what will you say?”

Lucien held Stephanie’s gaze and made a decision.

“I’ll congratulate him on his new home.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re talking about revolution.”

“Why are you acting surprised?” Lucien asked. “You knew that was a possibility from the beginning.”

She threw up a hand. “This is happening too fast, Luce. We’re not prepared.”

“It already happened, Teffie. I drew the line the minute you and Cosmo sheltered Leah from anyone declaring their intentions at her Selection. Since then everyone’s been taking their positions on their side of the line. The Council will have to take that into consideration when they make their judgment.”

“You think they’ll roll over?”

“I think they must understand on some level that their traditions are antiquated and I’m counting on them being forward thinking.”

“And if they’re not?”

Lucien leveled his eyes at her. “You took your position on the line, Teffie, are you changing your mind?”

“When I chose my side, I didn’t know Leah.”

Lucien’s brows drew together. “And what does this have to do with Leah?”

He watched, surprised, as Stephanie’s face grew pale, her mouth went slack and her eyes slid from his.

“Teffie?” he prompted.

Her eyes slid back and she whispered, “You have to ask that? You?”

Lucien, unfortunately, chose not to respond.

So Stephanie kept talking. “What did the last Revolution have to do with Maggie, Lucien?”

Lucien felt every inch of his body stretch taut.

“We’re placing her in danger,” Stephanie went on.

“Leah will not be in any danger,” Lucien clipped.

“You’re so certain?”

Lucien moved forward a very threatening inch.

“Yes,” he growled. “I’m very certain.”

Stephanie watched him, her eyes not moving from his, something that looked like understanding finally flashing in hers.

Then, seemingly appeased, even now actually pleased, she nodded and looked over his shoulder.

“She’s coming back,” Stephanie noted and Lucien turned.

Leah was moving toward them, squeezing between the bodies with more small smiles and murmured pardons. He noticed immediately she’d reapplied her lip gloss.

She was wearing an orchid-colored strapless dress. Simple. Elegant. No adornment on the dress only a deep slit up the center front that stopped at the swell of her thighs and a short train, the weight of which dragged the skirt back exposing her shapely legs. She wore the pair of high-heeled, burnished gold sandals he’d bought for her when they were shopping.

Her hair was not simple however, it was elegant. She’d let it dry in natural waves, then pulled it up and back in a way that was stylish but messy, innocent-looking but sexy. Strategically placed in it, she’d affixed the dozen tiny gold-filigreed butterfly hair clips he’d bought her and at her throat from a delicate gold chain hung another larger filigreed butterfly. The ones in her hair, the wings were near to closed, the one at her throat the wings where spanned.

He’d bought her the jewelry because he liked it, he thought it suited her and he wanted a reaction. He’d been cautious with her ever since the night he threw the wineglass and she’d had her first dream. He’d backed off and used extreme patience, attempting to draw her out gently. None of which, incidentally, was working.

He’d given the jewelry to her the night before, right before they went to bed when he told her they’d be going out that evening.

She had not been overwhelmed by this gesture. He’d received no radiant smile. In fact, she’d only ever smiled at him once and never repeated it.

Instead, she’d been only dutifully grateful. Nothing more.

He watched her get closer thinking he’d been absolutely right. The dress, the shoes and the jewelry all very much suited her.

The blank expression on her beautiful face very much did not.

She was less than ten feet away when a man’s hand curled on her upper arm, stopping her progress.

“Leah?” Lucien heard the voice, his eyes moved to the man. He recognized him and without delay Lucien moved.

He would have liked to have moved faster but he forced himself to go with a mortal’s slowness and it was at that moment Lucien hoped there was revolution, that vampires would be freed to be who they were and do what they liked.

For instance, being at Leah’s side in a split second, grabbing her and leaping across the room instead of having to wend his way excruciatingly slowly toward her.

“Justin?” Leah’s voice was stunned and not in a happy way.

“Leah, girl, what are you doing here?” Justin’s voice was also stunned, definitely in a happy way.

Lucien made it to her side in time for Justin to pull Leah into his arms.

She visibly stiffened. So did Lucien, a half a second before he moved closer in order to extricate her from an embrace with her ex-lover.

Leah got there before him. She put her hands to Justin’s waist and pushed away. Her shoulder met Lucien’s chest and her head jerked up to look at him.

And then she did something that stunned Lucien.

She turned to him, sliding her arm along his back, her fingers curling into his waist. She leaned the front of her body into his side, pressing close.

The act was smoothly done as if she curled into him all the time. It was also immensely proprietary in a beguiling, feminine way.

He liked it, a great deal, and therefore relaxed into it.

“Lucien, this is Justin.” She gestured with her hand then turned from him to Justin. “Justin, meet Lucien.”

Lucien looked at Justin who, Lucien was pleased to note, was now not looking so happy to see Leah. His eyes were darting back and forth between the two of them and his faced had paled slightly.

Unfortunately, Lucien had to break contact with Leah who’d burrowed under his right arm to shake the man’s hand.

“Justin,” he murmured.

“Lucien,” Justin murmured back, shaking his hand.

It took effort but Lucien stopped himself from crushing all the bones in Justin’s hand. Regardless, Justin winced behind the power of Lucien’s grip.

The minute their hands broke, Leah moved back in, assuming the same position but this time she rested her other hand on his upper abdominals.

It was a light touch but it spoke volumes.

As with most moments with Leah, but especially that moment, Lucien had the raging desire to kiss her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Justin, her voice not entirely friendly, not exactly unfriendly. She was testing the waters and Lucien decided to give her the lead in this uncertain situation.

“I just asked the same thing,” Justin replied, his voice was entirely unfriendly, his pleasure at seeing her had evaporated.

“You first,” Leah said, she read his tone and her words were frosted.

Lucien settled in to watch.

Justin looked between Lucien and Leah again, his eyes traveling down to Lucien’s middle. Lucien slid his arm around Leah, cupping his fingers on her shoulder. Justin’s eyes shifted, he watched this and his mouth grew tight.

Then he spoke. “At the last minute, they changed their minds and instead of transferring me to Seattle, they transferred me here.”

“You live here?” Leah asked and Lucien felt her body tensing.

Not good news, at least not for Leah.

“Yes, I do,” Justin replied. “Now… you.”

“I live here too,” Leah told him and Lucien watched as Justin’s eyes grew wide with disbelief.

“You live here?” he whispered.

“Well, not here, in the city,” Leah explained. “I live in Dragon Lake.”

Justin’s eyes, already wide, went huge.

“Dragon Lake?” His voice had dropped even lower then he whistled before stating, “That explains it.”

“Explains what?” Leah asked sharply.

“What would drag you away from that family and all those friends of yours. Obviously, if you can afford to live in Dragon Lake, you must have got a helluva job. That’s a pricey neighborhood.”

“We don’t actually live in Dragon Lake.” Lucien decided it was time to enter the conversation. “We live outside town, on the lake.”

Lucien didn’t put any emphasis on the “we” but then again, he didn’t have to. Justin caught his meaning, his eyes narrowed on Lucien and his jaw clenched. He again looked between Lucien and Leah and Lucien heard his heart start beating faster.

Angry.

Lucien bit back a smile.

Finally Justin’s eyes settled on Lucien and he asked, “Do you?”

“Justin –” Leah started, her tense body going solid but Justin’s eyes didn’t move from Lucien.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked.

“Justin –” Leah began again but Lucien talked over her.

“Yes,” Lucien replied.

“Then you know she broke up with me just five months ago.”

“Justin!” Leah snapped but Lucien again spoke over her.

“Yes,” Lucien repeated.

Justin’s eyes shot to Leah. “You’re a fast mover. Or were you with him before you finished with me?”

“Justin –” she started yet again, his name a shard of ice but this time Justin talked over her.

“Nice necklace, Ley-lo.” His voice was snide and it was Lucien’s turn to go tense.

“Do we have to do this?” Leah asked, her tone hard saying it was not a question at all and that they were not going to do “this”.

Justin disagreed. “Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled sarcastically. “Six months ago I was told I was being transferred, with a fucking great raise and a huge bonus. Not anything that would put me near Dragon Lake but it wasn’t anything to fucking sneeze at either. You said you wouldn’t move, no way, no how. Guess you were waiting for someone who could put gold around your neck and your ass in a two million dollar house on Dragon Lake.”

“I think you’re done,” Lucien told him and his voice made it clear Justin was, indeed, done.

Again, Justin didn’t agree. “Oh, do you now?”

Leah pressed into his side as her hand came up to grasp his lapel. “Lucien, don’t –”

Lucien looked down at her and saw her face had paled with alarm. But before he could reassure her, Justin was there.

“He’s a big guy, Ley-lo, but you know I can handle myself,” he announced. Leah’s body turned to marble and Lucien’s eyes sliced to him.

Justin was dark-haired, dark-eyed and clearly fit but, even if Lucien wasn’t a vampire, he had four inches and fifty pounds on him at least.

However, he was a vampire and without any effort at all, he could rip the man’s head off which was something he would have liked to do. Not because he was clearly an asshole but because Lucien knew he’d been an asshole to Leah for a very long time.

Justin, Lucien knew from Fiona, was ambitious. He was also callous with his ambition not only in business but often cancelling plans with Leah, sometimes important or special ones in order to spend his time clawing his way to the top.

Justin was so ambitious that when he needed Leah to be available to charm associates at a business dinner or the like, regardless of the fact that he often chose work over her, he demanded her attendance. He did this even, on occasion, when she was ill or when she had other plans. The former, she’d done, according to Fiona, once. The latter she’d told him to “go screw himself” (Fiona’s account, direct from Leah’s mouth), which meant they fought, not cleanly or at least Justin didn’t fight clean. In a fight, as he was always, he was insensitive, selfish and manipulative.

Justin, Lucien now knew, was also stupid.

Leah tried to salvage the situation. “We’re at the opera,” she hissed to Justin.

“So, fucking, what?” Justin hissed back. “You think you can stand there and hang on some guy, some guy you’ve known for what? A couple of months? Some guy you’ve moved in with when you wouldn’t entertain the notion for even a second with me? Hang on him right in front of me when five months ago you were in my bed?”

Lucien prepared to move. “I see you’re not done but we are.”

Justin, proving his immense stupidity, leaned in and snapped, “Listen up, Lucien, whatever fucking kind of name that is, take it from me. Trust me, I fucking know. Get out, get out now. She’ll twist you around her little finger, get you addicted to that toffee snatch of hers, then she’ll –”

Lucien was done.

Instead of ripping his head off, which was something he now really wished to do, he did something else which would likely not horrify Leah, the rest of their many onlookers and sentence him to be hunted down and burned by The Dominion. The last of which would put a world of hurt on his plans to tame Leah as he’d be dead.

Silence, Lucien commanded, Justin’s mouth clamped shut and his eyes bugged out. Walk away, Lucien continued and without hesitation, Justin’s body jerking woodenly, he turned and walked away.

Lucien watched him go.

Then he heard Leah breathe, “Did you…?”

His head tilted down to look at her and she was staring at him, lips parted, eyes wide, faced filled with wonder. His favorite look. A look he hadn’t seen in three weeks, a look he didn’t realize how much he missed until that very moment.

She went on, “Did you just mind control Justin?”

“Yes,” Lucien replied without hesitation wondering what her reaction would be.

If he’d been asked, he would have guessed a variety of things. None of which was what he received.

She burst out laughing.

Laughing.

She threw her head back, exposing the elegant line of her throat, her face lit with mirth, her entire body shaking with it.

He’d never made her laugh. Not once.

In eight hundred years there were a great number of things he’d done but at that moment none of them seemed as monumental as making Leah laugh.

She curled into his front. One arm was still holding him tight around the waist, her other hand still clenched at his lapel. The rest of her body collapsed into him as if the weight of her hilarity was too much to bear. She bent her neck and rested her forehead against his chest, still giggling.

“You… you… mind-controlled Justin,” she stammered through her giggles into his chest then her head snapped back and she cried with very loud glee, “Justin!”

Lucien felt Stephanie’s gaze. He glanced at her to see her brows raised, a smile playing at her mouth.

He looked back down at Leah and made a decision. Half-leading, half-dragging her still giggling frame, he guided her to the far less crowded hall that led to the restrooms. There, he pressed her into the wall and got close.

She put her hands on his chest and smiled up at him.

Lucien felt his chest get tight. This feeling wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest.

“That’s usually Justin’s gig,” she said through her smile.

“Pardon?” Lucien asked, smiling back, his arms sliding around her waist to pull her closer even as he leaned into her, pressing her back into the wall.

“Mind control. Justin was the master.” Then she laughed again, out loud, her body sagging into his. When she controlled herself she told him, “If I’d have known you six months ago, I would have paid you to mind control Justin. He was such a shit, the master manipulator.”

“You wouldn’t have had to pay me, my pet. It would have been my pleasure.” He was still smiling but his words were serious.

They also sobered her. Her body twitched and the smile died on her face.

Lucien wanted it back.

“Don’t,” he warned, his arms tightening.

She looked around, noticing for the first time where she was. Then her eyes locked at the entryway five feet down the hall.

“We should get back to Stephanie –”

“Look at me, Leah.”

For the first time in weeks he watched her struggling against her natural reaction before her eyes met his.

“For five minutes, I had you back. Don’t go away again,” he demanded.

“But you already –” she started and he cut her off.

“If you tell me I’ve already got you, I swear to Christ, we’re going home right now and I’ll do whatever I have to do to drag you out of that fucking fortress you’ve built around you.”

Her mouth clamped shut, her eyes flashed and Lucien felt a bolt of elation rip through him.

Finally, he was getting somewhere.

“Can we talk about this later?” she asked quietly.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he told her. “You’re withholding from me.”

“Am not,” she returned.

“Leah.” Her name was a warning.

“Well, I’m not!” Her voice was rising and Lucien welcomed it.

Because of this, his tone softened when he spoke. “You forget, sweetling, I’ve been watching you for twenty years.”

Her eyes slid away and she muttered, “I haven’t forgotten that.”

His arms gave her a squeeze and her gaze came back to his.

“Therefore, I know the Leah Buchanan who I’m sharing a bed with is not Leah Buchanan.”

“She is,” Leah retorted.

Stubborn. He nearly smiled.

He didn’t.

“She isn’t,” he replied.

“What do you want from me?” she asked and there was the barest hint of a snap to her question. Regardless of her crumbling composure, he could hear her heart racing and he could smell her fear.

He’d missed that too.

He drew her even closer and her hands on his chest started pressing.

He ignored it.

“Everything,” he answered.

“You’ve got it.”

“I don’t.”

“Whatever you don’t have then you can’t have.”

Definitely a snap.

Yes, his Leah was coming back.

He couldn’t help it, he smiled. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and he heard her pulse accelerate.

“You’re saying you’re determined to be nothing but my whore,” he stated.

Her body grew still and her heart skipped. “What?”

“You have a choice. You can be with me as I want you to be or you can be my whore. Your choice.”

He watched her face work as she struggled to find a way out of the predicament she placed herself in.

Then she said, “There’s a third choice.”

“And that would be?”

“You can release me.”

He felt his chest tighten again. This time it was extremely unpleasant.

“That isn’t going to happen.”

She pushed against him. He ignored it.

“I refuse to choose,” she hissed.

“Then I’ll choose.”

She stopped breathing and her face went pale before she whispered, “You can’t make me do either one.”

His hand slid up her back, fingers wrapping around her neck.

“Would you like to try me, pet?”

Her fear spiked, the scent of it filling the hall and he felt his cock start to get hard in reaction as he felt her heart tripping against his chest.

The bells sounded, announcing it was time for the patrons to take their seats.

“Please can we talk about this later?” she begged and he studied her face.

She’d had enough. However, he was again getting through.

“Yes,” he relented. “We can talk about it later.”

She sagged in relief against him.

He dipped his face to touch his mouth to hers.

“But we will talk about it, Leah,” he cautioned, his lips moving against hers. “Your new game ends and we begin.” He watched close up as her eyes grew round, her scent enveloping him, her delicious fear coating his throat. “Tonight,” he finished.

Leah sat beside him in the car, feigning sleep.

He knew she wasn’t asleep. He’d slept a month of nights beside her. He knew exactly what her breathing and heart sounded like when she was sleeping.

That was not it.

Furthermore, she couldn’t be tired considering she’d had a nap at the opera.

It was safe to say, even though Leah hadn’t told him, she didn’t like opera.

During the first act, he’d discovered this when he felt her subtle movements beside him. However when he turned his head to look at her, her own head was bowed as if deep in contemplation.

He thought nothing of this, suspecting she was considering her options for their discussion later that evening.

His gaze moved to Stephanie who was sitting beside Leah, eyes glued on the stage, lips curved into an amused grin.

They weren’t watching a comedy.

His gaze traveled back to Leah and he saw her suddenly pull an outrageous face. Chin jutted out so the cords in her neck strained, she flicked her tongue between her lips like a snake.

Lucien stared in disbelief wondering if the pressure of his taming was getting to her.

Then he heard a child’s giggle.

He looked down over the balcony railing and saw a little girl no more than six who was completely uninterested in the opera. She was staring up at Leah, her face wreathed in smiles. After a moment she mimicked Leah’s snake face and then rearranged her features, using her thumbs to pull out her mouth and her fingers to pull down her eyes.

Lucien looked back at Leah, who’d bugged out her eyes comically wide and was shaking her head in a subtle “no”.

The child giggled again, practically jumping up in her seat, making motions with her hands that Leah was to follow her lead something that had, apparently, been going on for some time. Her mother, sitting beside her, finally noticed her daughter’s behavior and Lucien heard the mother’s hushed rebuke.

His arm moved around Leah’s shoulders, she jumped and her head turned to him. He caught a look on her face that nearly made him roar with laughter. She looked exactly like the six year old below who’d just been caught and scolded.

He sought her ear with his mouth and whispered, “Be good.”

He felt her shoulders tense under his arm but ignored it, pulling her into his side which she resisted pointlessly.

His eyes moved to Stephanie who was watching them, smiling broadly now before he tucked Leah firmly in his side and glanced back at the stage.

He, too, was smiling.

She managed to curtail her antics for the rest of the first act and chatted amicably if pensively with Stephanie during intermission.

The second act, he positioned her as he had the first and she promptly fell asleep with her head against his shoulder.

And that nap had not been feigned. She had been out, the entirety of her weight resting against him. Although he wished she’d told him she didn’t like opera, he couldn’t say he minded her sleeping with her head on his shoulder where he could tug a tendril of her hair free and twirl its silkiness around his finger something he found that night he could do for hours.

His thoughts still on that tendril, Lucien saw they were home.

He hit the garage door opener and parked the Porsche next to the Cayenne. He was out of the car over to her side with her door open when she pretended to wake.

“We’re home?” she asked in a false drowsy voice.

Lucien bit back a smile. “Yes, pet.”

He helped her out and she started to wander sleepily to the door to the kitchen. He caught her and slid an arm along her shoulders, pulling her close and guiding her the rest of the way.

“Tired?” he asked with sham solicitousness as he halted them by the door so he could hang his keys on the hook on the kitchen wall.

She faked a yawn.

Then she answered, “Definitely.”

“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured and she nodded.

He walked with her close to his side all the way to the bedroom where she pulled away. He moved to turn on the bedside light and she sat on the bed, bending double, her hands moving to the straps of her shoe.

He shrugged off his suit jacket and walked to the chaise.

“I take it you aren’t fond of opera?” he asked, throwing his jacket on the chaise and sitting to take off his own shoes.

“Um…” she hesitated, sliding her shoe off her foot, setting it aside and then going after the straps of the other one, “no.”

Pleased she hadn’t attempted to lie in order to tell him what she thought he would want to hear, Lucien stood and unbuttoned his shirt. “I think I got that.”

She rose from the bed without a reply or even looking at him and started toward the dressing room.

Using his natural speed, he slid off his shirt, dropped it on the chaise and was at her side before she walked three steps.

His hand caught hers, she quaked to a stop and looked up at him.

“Where are you going?” he queried.

“To take off my dress and put on my pajamas,” she answered.

“No pajamas,” Lucien replied, her eyes grew wide and he turned her so her back was facing him before he continued. “I want to feel you against me tonight, pet.”

Her body turned to stone as his fingers went to her zipper but she didn’t resist.

He slid it down and she stood ramrod straight. The material parted and then fell away. She was wearing nothing but a pair of sheer lavender-colored panties edged in the same colored lace. Her hands went up to shield her breasts as he turned her again and pulled her to him, her arms caught between their bodies.

“Take off my trousers,” he ordered, his fingers drifting up the soft skin of her naked back.

She blinked.

Then she asked, “What?”

His fingers found a butterfly clip in her hair. He squeezed the wings gently and pulled it out.

Then he repeated, “Leah, take off my trousers.

She hesitated a moment then, stiltedly, her hands went to his belt.

His fingers found another clip and he carefully pulled it out.

“So, I take it you’ve decided?” she whispered, his belt undone, she moved to the fastening.

“Decided what?” he asked, taking out another butterfly and watching, with no small amount of fascination, as her shining hair slowly tumbled to her shoulders.

“That I’m to be your whore.”

So deep in his study of her hair he was startled by her words and his eyes moved from her hair to hers.

“Why would you say that?”

She slid his zipper down. This, evidently, was her answer.

With one hand, he found more clips and also bobby pins which he pulled out as well. The other hand he wrapped around the back of her neck.

He didn’t take his eyes from hers.

“Lovers disrobe each other, Leah,” he said softly.

He heard her heart bump unevenly, she tore her eyes from his, looking at his shoulder as she slid her hands along his waist and tugged his pants down.

They barely hit the floor before he stepped out of them, had her cradled in his arms and at the side of the bed. He yanked back the covers, depositing her in it. He dropped her hair bobs on her bedside table, moved over her and settled at her side.

“Sit up and turn your back to me,” he demanded, she hesitated again before she complied, bringing the covers up to her chest as she did so.

His hands went back to her hair.

“How many pins do you have in here, sweetling?” he muttered as all the butterflies were out but there seemed hundreds of pins still in.

“I have a lot of hair,” she whispered.

He stopped pulling out pins, his hand moving to her neck, across her throat, and down. He curled his fingers around her upper arm and pulled her back to his chest, his face buried in her thick, soft, now wildly wavy hair.

“Mm,” he murmured into the locks, “that you do.”

Her hands came up, fingers sliding into her hair. “I’ll finish it.”

He pulled back, letting her go and pushed her hands away.

“I’ll do it.”

She blindly batted at his hands. “It won’t take me a second.”

“I said I’ll do it.”

“Really –”

He leaned in deep, taking her with him and dumping the pins and clips on the nightstand. Then he caught her wrists in a tight hold and pulled them around, crossing them at her front.

Against her ear he repeated firmly, “I’ll do it.”

She stiffened a second before her body went slack.

“Okay,” she whispered.

She pulled the covers up to hide herself and then sat still as he finished with the pins.

After some time his fingers slid through her hair, searching for any pins he’d left behind. Finding none, he deposited the last of them with the others. His hands going back to her hair, he gathered it all in his fists. Transferring it to one, he pulled it aside and kissed her bare shoulder.

She trembled against his lips. He smiled against her skin.

“Can I go to sleep now?” she asked.

“No,” he answered.

Her body jerked and she twisted her head to look at him.

“But I’m tired,” she lied.

“Yes, I know.” He tried not to grin.

“You said we could go to bed.” Her tone held a mild accusation.

“We’re in bed,” he pointed out.

“I thought you meant to sleep,” she told him.

“I didn’t.”

“But –” she started but didn’t finish. He moved her to face him, tugging the covers out of her hands at the same time lifting up to lean his back against the headboard and pressing her torso to his side.

“We’re going to talk,” he announced.

She tilted her head back to look at him. “I’m really tired, Lucien. Really tired.” She stressed the words vocally and by pressing her soft body deeper into his. “I don’t think I have it in me to talk.”

His hand came up to cup her jaw. “That’s fine, sweetheart, you aren’t going to be talking.”

Her body grew tense.

“It’s been some time since you’ve had a lesson,” he told her and saw surprise slide across her features.

He watched her struggle with her reaction. Then he watched her lose.

“Have you come to a decision?” she asked, her voice edging toward a demand.

“About what?”

He heard her teeth grinding and controlled his laughter.

Barely.

“Earlier tonight, you said you were going to choose,” she reminded him. “Have you come to your decision?”

As much as he was enjoying this, Lucien let her off the hook.

“That’s what your lesson is about.”

He watched her face working again, heard her teeth grinding again before he felt her weight settle into his side.

“I’m all ears,” she muttered, now her voice held mild irritation.

His hand at her jaw slid into the side of her hair and he pressed her cheek against his chest. He then took her wrist, pulling it across his abdomen, resting her arm there. Finally, he placed his hand on her neck, thumb stroking her throat.

“Did you learn anything about the history of concubines while in class?” he asked.

Her felt her head move indicating a negative against his chest.

Of course she didn’t.

Lucien smiled over her head and continued, “The role of official concubine started just after The Revolution when mortal and immortal representatives met to negotiate the Agreement which would dictate how the two cultures would co-exist. Eleven Elders, or oldest living vampires, represented our culture. Ambassadors from eleven European countries represented yours. For mortals, the primary concern was to stop hunting. For immortals, the primary concern was to ensure safe feeding but also to find a way that vampires could feed and still have a place in society not in shadows. As I told you before, many vampires already had what amounted to concubines, women who shared their blood willingly. It was agreed that this would be the practice from that point on. The Agreement was written and both immortals and mortals signed it.”

Lucien paused and Leah nodded that she understood and he should carry on which he did.

“Concubines were recruited from the highest-born families in Europe, aristocrats, the daughters of wealthy merchants even some lower-born royals. This was facilitated secretly by command of monarchs across Europe. It wasn’t essential that the women came willing. Most often they were sold into the life.”

He heard her take in a sharp breath and his hand at her neck gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“They might have been sold into the life, Leah, but once there not one attempted to leave it.”

“Okay,” she whispered when he paused again for her to give indication that she accepted this fact.

“The first family to come forward and sign the agreement was yours,” he told her and added, “The Buchanans came willingly.”

“I knew that,” she said softly.

“Did you know that they’d already been concubines for five generations?”

Her head tilted back and he met her gaze.

“I didn’t know that,” she replied softly.

He nodded. “Not only concubines to vampires but concubines to kings.”

He watched her face pale, felt her body get tight and she pushed up and away.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, so appalled for once she forgot her own nudity.

“Leah –”

Expression still horrified, she talked over him. “I come from a family of whores.”

His arms curved around her and he pulled her up his chest so they were face-to-face.

“You must remember, those times were different,” he warned, locking eyes with her. “And the Buchanan women were different. They wanted something else from life. Strong women couldn’t live their own lives back then, no women could. Your ancestors did what they had to do to guarantee themselves a certain amount of freedom, freedom that included safety and comfort and they didn’t care what people thought. These are traits to admire, then and now.” She continued to look horrified and dubious so he went on, “I knew your Buchanan ancestors, pet, they made their own way without men ruling their lives. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.” His voice dipped low. “And they would have liked you, particularly you. You remind me of them, Leah.”

She wrinkled her nose and Lucien thought it made her look adorable so he smiled.

“I’m giving you a compliment,” he informed her.

“Okay,” she agreed without actually agreeing, clearly wanting to be off the subject.

He disregarded her nonverbal cue. “They ensured, for centuries, that all of their line would live safe and well, even you. And I don’t mean now with me, I mean your whole life as provided by your mother.”

“Seems to me men provided that life or at least vampires did. In our case, Cosmo took care of us.”

“Yes, but for seven years your mother took care of Cosmo.”

She made a noise that sounded like a snort.

He gave her an impatient squeeze but softened his voice. “What your family does is no small thing. Without your blood, your mother’s, your entire line and all those like you, given willingly, we would need to hunt.”

He watched as understanding dawned then her brows drew together and she replied, “All those people at the Feasts, Wats and Breed... you wouldn’t go hungry and you wouldn’t need to hunt.”

“You’re correct,” he allowed. “But survival feeding is very different than partaking of an elegant repast. The vampires who remained after The Revolution as a whole crave the finer things in life. You saw them, Leah. Wats and Breed are not the finer things in life. Concubines definitely are. To find that, if not given willingly, we’d hunt.”

Her eyes moved from his and she muttered, “Snooty.”

“Look at me, pet,” he demanded and when she did he went on. “That isn’t it, there’s more. You said three weeks ago that there were not many people I could be myself with and you’re one. Do you have any idea what it’s like, second-to-second for centuries, hiding who you are to live in the mortal’s world?”

She squirmed uncomfortably against him and he stilled her with another arm squeeze.

She seemed to be searching for an argument, found one and retorted, “Lucien, you can totally be yourself at Feasts and around Wats and Breed. They’d love it. They’d do anything for you to be you. They live for it.”

“It’s different.”

“How?”

Lucien sighed before explaining, “They don’t want me to be me. They want me to be whatever their twisted notion is of a vampire, superhuman creature of the night, romanticized or demonized in their minds. They think they’re playing with fire or living a novel. They don’t accept me for being what I am. They’re takers, users, all of them. You see it as them giving me something but it’s not, they’re taking. I may be feeding off their blood but they’re feeding as well. What I do is natural, giving my body what it needs. What they do is selfish and greedy. Not once from the likes of Breed and Wats or anyone at A Feast have I ever met a single mortal soul who knows what I am who’s given one whit about me. Asked me about my day. Wondered aloud at my mood. Wished to discuss a book. Five hundred years, Leah, and not once. I’m not human to them. I don’t exist outside whatever fantasy they’ve created about me. I’m their tool to manipulate to an orgasm or whatever the fuck they get from me.”

As he spoke he noticed her face soften before sorrow filled her gaze. Sorrow mixed with tenderness, a look so bleak yet intensely compassionate, it shook him.

Her hand drifted up his chest, lifted and he held his breath because he thought she was actually going to touch his face in an act of affection.

Instead, disappointingly, she thought better of it and her hand floated down to rest lightly on his shoulder.

Regardless of his disappointment, his fingers captured a lock of her hair and started twisting

“Concubines aren’t like that,” he continued quietly when she made no reply. “Concubines understand and accept who we are, what we need and they give us more. Not just blood. A safe harbor where we can be who we are. You,” his voice dropped to a whisper and his face moved closer to hers, “are part of my life, my real life, not some romance novel or horror film. This is a relationship, sweetling, one in my world as it is today that is essential to me. Without it, I’d go mad.”

The sorrow left her gaze, the compassion remained and he felt her body melt into his.

Thank fucking God.

Finally, he was getting somewhere.

“Lucien –” she murmured.

He didn’t let her continue, feeling the time was ripe to make his point. “I don’t want a whore, Leah. I want you to accept who I am and what we are to each other.”

“I accept you,” she whispered and the way she did it he believed her.

Without hesitation he asked, “Do you accept what we are to each other?”

She bit her lip in indecision.

“Do you?” he pressed.

“What, um,” she paused then went on, “exactly are we to each other?”

“I’d like us to be lovers.”

Oddly, her eyes turned hopeful. “Lovers?”

Not certain of the reasons behind her hope, he replied cautiously, “Lovers.”

“Just lovers?” she repeated.

His sense of caution escalated. “Perhaps you should describe to me what ‘just lovers’ means.”

“Perhaps you should describe to me what you think ‘lovers’ means.”

“I’ve made that clear,” he told her.

“You want me to trust you.”

“That and more.”

Her pliant body stiffened.

“What else?” she asked.

He studied her for a moment wondering if she was genuinely obtuse or stubbornly so. He decided the latter.

He also thought that perhaps he actually wasn’t getting somewhere.

With waning patience, he explained, “Leah, my clothes are in your closet. My body is in your bed. I come home to you every night.”

Her reply was swift. “Lucien, your clothes are in your closet. Your body is in your bed. You come home to your house every night.”

He felt his brows draw together. “This is your house, Leah.”

“You’re wrong,” she returned. “This is the house you provided for me to live in while all this is going on.”

His eyes narrowed under his drawn brows and his patience slipped another notch. “You’re correct, I was wrong. This isn’t your house. And you’re also wrong. This isn’t the house I provided for you ‘while all this is going on’.”

When she spoke, he sensed her patience was slipping too.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s our house.”

Her body jerked and she pulled reflexively against his arms. He held her tightly, not giving her an inch.

“There is no ‘our’,” she snapped, her hand at his shoulder pressing to no avail. Still, she didn’t stop.

“There will be,” he declared decisively and he saw her eyes flash before they filled with anger.

She pressed harder while muttering irately, “Lucien, let me go.”

No, he was definitely not getting somewhere.

At her attempt to retreat, his patience took another hit.

“What the fuck do you think this is all about?” he ground out.

She locked eyes with him and demanded, “Let me go.”

“Answer me.”

She didn’t. Instead, she asked her own question.

“Is this what taming is?” Her voice was rising. “Creating an ‘our’ which means you’d be creating an ‘us’?”

“Yes, that’s part of it.”

“It sure has a lot of parts,” she retorted sarcastically.

“Yes, it fucking well does and if you’d stop being so goddamned stubborn, you might open yourself up to learning them all and understand how beautiful it is.”

“Right,” she shot back derisively.

His arms gave her a gentle shake. “You don’t have any idea what you’re treating with such scorn.”

“Oh yes I do.”

“Explain it to me then.”

She stilled and to his surprise, agreed. “All right, I will.”

He held her defiant glare before muttering, “This will be interesting.”

She shot him a look that would have been amusing if he wasn’t so annoyed.

Then she spoke, clipping out every word. “Beautiful house. Beautiful clothes. Beautiful path that leads down to a beautiful lake. Beautiful pool. Ritzy neighborhood. Going to the opera with gold butterflies in her hair. A housekeeper who launders her clothes and makes her breakfast. Hot, superhuman vampire with a great body who’s good with his hands, not to mention his mouth, coming home to her every night. A girl could get used to that.”

“That’s the point,” he returned.

“Okay then, what happens when you’re through with me?”

“It’s common practice for other vampires, including myself, to move their concubines into less lavish accommodation after the Arrangement is finished. But, if you’d have given me five minutes to explain in the last month, you would know that, given the taming, this is your life until you die.”

Lucien thought that was rather substantial.

Leah disagreed.

“Thanks, Lucien,” she snapped back sarcastically. “That takes a load off.”

He gave her another shake, this one far less gentle. “Explain yourself.”

She gave him another look, this one far less amusing. She also started trying to pull away again but he held her close.

“I don’t think I care to,” she stated.

“Let me see if I understand you, my pet. What I told you tonight is that you’re an important part of my life, meaningful to me. I intend to live with you, share my life with you, take you as my lover, something you want as badly as me and don’t fucking deny it, and provide you with supremely comfortable life until you die and you’re throwing that in my face?”

“Yep,” she returned instantly now irritatingly glib. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I don’t want any of this.” She threw an arm out, encompassing the room before it went back to push against his chest. “I don’t want any of what you said. And most of all, I don’t want you.”

His patience fled, anger replacing it. A great deal of anger.

He yanked her over his body so they were chest-to-chest.

His voice was low and cold when he replied, “I’ve an urge to call you on that last lie.”

He could see her anger was escalating at the same pace as his.

Therefore she ignored his threat and demanded, “Release me.”

His arms grew tighter. “Not until you’ve learned tonight’s lesson, my pet.”

“I don’t mean now!” she snapped. “I mean completely. Release me from our Arrangement. Find someone else’s head to mess with.”

Her words roaring through him, leaving behind that twisting, vile feeling he despised, he sat up suddenly and to accommodate him she was forced to straddle his lap.

She gasped in shocked surprise then tried to pull away.

“Stop struggling,” he demanded, his arm locking around her waist, his other hand fisting in her hair.

“Release me,” she shot back.

“That’s not going to happen, Leah.”

“You want me to give you everything. My trust, my body, my time and you think I should be grateful because of some pretty clothes and a fucking great house?”

“You missed some things,” he returned.

“Oh yes, my blood,” she clipped.

“Yes, your blood and a great deal more.”

She stopped struggling against his hold and her angry face got close to his.

“Yes, I get that Lucien.” Her voice was an enraged whisper. “You don’t say it but I know what you want. And you can’t have it because I know, eventually, you’re going to throw it away. Therefore, it doesn’t mean one fucking thing to you, no matter how you pretty up the words. So I’m keeping it.”

Involuntarily, his arms tensed, He knew it was too much and he didn’t care. He felt her pulse soar as her breath went out of her.

“How can you say that?” he hissed.

Breathing with difficulty, she went back to her earlier theme. “Release me.”

“I’ve been waiting for you for twenty fucking years,” he reminded her.

“Don’t worry, Lucien.” Her tone was cutting. “I’m sure another sweet-smelling pussy will happen along.”

Controlling his fury by a very weak thread, he twisted. She landed on her back, him on top, his hips between her legs.

“You haven’t listened or paid any attention to a fucking thing I’ve said or done,” he grated.

“I haven’t missed one freaking thing!” she shouted in his face.

“You’ve missed everything. So I’ll say it so you can understand it. I’ve been waiting to have you since I knew you existed. But I’ve been waiting for someone like you for five fucking centuries.”

“I doubt the earth is going to crash into the sun anytime soon. You’ll get another chance.”

Good Christ she was stubborn.

He growled.

“Release me,” she demanded.

“No.”

“Release me!” she yelled.

“Never!” he shouted back.

His last word made her face change. It twisted, contorting in a look of pain so raw, so severe, it caught him off guard and translated into a kindred slash of pain through his gut that was so intense he felt instant nausea.

Which meant her fist connecting with his jaw came as a surprise.

His head wrenched to the side on contact and he stayed that way, looking unseeing across the room.

It didn’t hurt. She was a female mortal in a disadvantageous position on her back with him close.

But he was a vampire.

And concubines were meant to respect vampires.

He gave her her head in many things because he knew what he’d bought into when he’d selected her.

But she had just crossed the line.

Slowly, his head turned back to her. She was panting, her heart racing, rampant fear in her scent but obstinacy and rage was in her eyes.

“You struck me,” he said, his voice deceptively soft.

She ignored the danger in his tone, bucked and demanded, “Get off me!”

He did as she asked but only to sit at the side of the bed, pulling her roughly into his lap and locking her to his body with his arms.

She struggled. “Let me go!”

He shook her with enough force to get her attention. She stopped struggling, her eyes jerked to his and he heard her heart spike as her breath caught.

“Right now, Leah, you’re going to learn to respect me,” he whispered.

She opened her mouth to speak but he moved her so quickly whatever words she had died in her throat.

He twisted her so she was facedown on the bed, her hips in his lap, ass pointed to the ceiling.

She read his intent and reared up, screaming with terrified fury, “No!”

Silence, he commanded, her vocal denials stopped instantly but she kept fighting.

He thought it prudent to allow her struggles. She’d not thank him for this after and commanding her acquiescence through controlling her mind, he surmised, would be a tactical error. Silencing her cries was enough. He had enough of a battle on his hands, clearly not making any advances in the slightest, even after a head-to-head week followed by three of détente. He didn’t need her sincerely hating him instead of telling herself she did.

He positioned one thigh over both hers and held her down to the bed with his hand in her back. She pressed, pushed and bucked but he didn’t allow her to make any progress toward freeing herself.

Then his hand came down on her ass, sharply enough to make his point not enough to cause any real pain.

The instant the crack of his hand against her skin filled the room, she stilled completely.

He did this three more times. Each strike, her body jerked in response but she didn’t fight.

The next time his hand went to her ass, it was not to strike but to soothe.

“Do you get my point?” he asked quietly, his hand moving gently over her bottom, his gaze moving toward her head.

Her face was buried in the comforter, her hair splayed around her shoulders, arms stretched out before her, fingers curled into a pillow.

He watched her nod.

Now it was time to teach her another lesson.

His thigh lifted and as he suspected she’d do, she immediately sought escape. Moving her legs just enough to open them, his thigh descended, trapping her now-parted ones.

He watched her head jerk back and her fingers fist into the pillow.

He tugged down her panties, exposing her.

No, her mind called out to him.

Yes, sweetling, he replied.

As his hand moved between her legs, she tried struggling but he held her down. She kept struggling as he worked her and with a swiftness that gratified him but likely mortified her, she grew wet.

He continued working her until she dripped. Her movements turned from fighting to squirming, her hips lifting, her legs moving under his thigh, not for escape but to move further apart to give him more access.

He allowed this and carried on, her movements, the feel of her, wet and silken, and her scent making his cock grow hard and start aching.

With better access and weeks between orgasms her movements quickly became urgent.

When he knew she was close, he lifted his thigh, pulled her out from beneath it and swept her panties from her legs. Then he tugged her up and settled her straddling his lap.

Her arms immediately circled his shoulders, one hand fisting in his hair, her forehead dropping to his shoulder. Her hips moved, seeking his cock which he withheld. Considering she’d latched onto him it was unnecessary that he hold her captive with his arm around her waist but he did so. He also pressed a hand between her legs, stroking, teasing, circling, fueling the burn but not enough to relieve it.

He released her from her silence.

She felt it instantly and whispered with deep feeling, “I really hate you.”

He buried his face in her neck to hide his smile.

Even his very stubborn Leah couldn’t hate him at the same time her body moved in desperation to join with his.

His hand drifted up her back as he rubbed himself against her.

“Do you ever wonder at the intensity of your feeling for me, pet?” he asked her neck.

“No,” she snapped back but her voice was breathy and her head moved back to expose more of her throat, inviting his lips, tongue or teeth, it was clearly his choice. “You’re a big, fat, vampire jerk.”

He decided to ignore her words.

“Do you want me to feed or do you want my cock?” He paused, pressing against her. “Or both?”

“I hate you,” she whispered instead of answering.

His hand moved from her waist to her breast, his thumb brushing her rock-hard nipple. She caught her breath and her heart skipped a beat. She bucked against his hand between her legs and he smelled her rush of wetness even as he felt it.

God, she was magnificent.

If he ever lost sight of why he was enduring this torture, he only had to remember that moment.

Or the one where she melted against him with tenderness in her eyes.

“Answer me, Leah.”

“Both,” she breathed, her tone managing to be somehow defiant and defeated.

Tonight, he decided, Leah would get what she wanted.

And, finally, so would he.

He moved, shifting her to her back, his hips between her legs, hers rising instantly in invitation.

His mouth went to hers as he pressed the tip of his cock inside her.

Tight and saturated.

He couldn’t fucking wait to be seated to the hilt inside.

However, before he finally gave them what they both wanted, they needed to get one thing straight.

His eyes locked with hers.

“I’ll not release you,” he growled. “Don’t mention it again.”

She moved her hips against his, seeking deeper contact but didn’t answer.

“Do you understand me?” he pushed.

She glared at him even as her hips pressed down.

His hands at her waist tightened. “Leah –” he grated warningly.

“I understand,” she whispered.

He prepared to thrust, a thrill of desire tearing through his body but before he could follow through, her frame went solid at the same instant he heard the distant, dangerous noises.

Her wide eyes locked with his.

“Something’s wrong,” she breathed.

Her understanding of this when there was no way she could hear the approaching car or the conversation of the people in it, shocked him.

He couldn’t think of that now.

Yes, sweetling, he spoke to her mind.

Her limbs tensed around him in a way he thought, after what just occurred, was strangely protective.

You don’t want them to hear us talking? she asked.

With great regret and a tight control on his anger at The Council’s very bad timing, he withdrew but stayed on top of her, pressing her to the bed.

No. You’ll need to put on your pajamas. With what happens next, I want you to take your cues from me. They come in, don’t speak unless they speak to you. Be very careful of your answers if they ask you questions and tell them as little as you can. He studied her a moment and then finished, If you sense something’s wrong, go with your instinct.

Her body trembled beneath him. Her heart was still racing but now for a different reason.

Who are they?

You’ll be safe.

Who are they?

No time for questions, sweetheart, you must trust me.

Lucien…

His hands went from her hips to frame her face and he looked into her eyes.

Trust me, Leah.

She stared. She swallowed. He watched as her face worked then her eyes flashed.

He knew, with grave disappointment, what her answer would be before she spoke it to his brain.

However, he was wrong.

Achingly sweetly, she whispered hesitantly, Okay.