Page 131 of Lavender and Honey

But the longer I wait, the harder it will be. And I’m already bracing myself, preparing for whatever it is that waits beyond the shelter of their bodies.

Lucian shifts again and groans, lifting his arm from my chest and stretching it over his head. He pulls away, getting to his feet with a slow grace, the covers falling to the floor around him. I blink at his easy nakedness, admire the confident lines of his body. I don't mean to stare, but it’s hard not to, especially when he doesn't seem to mind at all. Elias shifts beside me, following my gaze and then laughing softly.

"Like what you see?" he murmurs, his voice playful and knowing. I flush and try to look anywhere but at Lucian.

“Just looking,” I say. “Or trying to.”

Elias gives a small, wicked grin. “There's no rule around here that you can’t look,” he says, low and warm. “….or touch.”

The air is almost unbearably light, full of a soft, teasing heat. I look from Lucian to Elias, wondering at this world I’ve landed in, where nothing’s out of bounds and everything is easy, even the jokes. It’s a wonder I don’t collapse under the weight of my own blushing. Lucian gives a half-salute from the kitchen doorway, his back turned as he goes to answer the phone. I get one more flash of bare skin before he's out of sight, the morninglight dancing over the broad planes of his shoulders. I feel like I should apologize for gawking, but Elias is still curled up beside me, and his laughter makes everything seem just ridiculous enough not to care.

“Is it like this every morning?” I ask, pretending to pout. “Do I have to hide under the covers to keep from staring?”

Elias props himself up on one elbow, eyes full of amusement and something that looks a lot like affection. "You'll get used to it," he promises. "Or you won't, and it will just keep being fun to watch you blush."

I groan and bury my face in the pillow, trying to muffle my embarrassment. “You’re impossible,” I say, but there's no real bite to it. I'm too giddy with the absurdity of the moment, the delightful awkwardness that only comes from being exactly where you want to be.

Elias tugs the pillow away and leans in close, his breath a warm whisper against my ear. “Come on, Lydia. Admit it. You love it.” His voice is teasing, but there's an undercurrent of sincerity that sends a shiver down my spine.

I turn to face him, letting myself smile the way I only ever can around them. "Maybe," I concede, the word catching in my throat and turning into laughter. "Or maybe I'm just a prisoner here, and this is all part of your wicked plan."

"You figured us out." He pulls me closer, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Caught in the act."

Lucian's voice drifts in from the kitchen, a low rumble that vibrates through the walls. He's still on the phone, words indistinct, and I imagine him pacing, the way he does when he's in one of his moods. Part of me wants to know what's going on, wants to be part of every piece of this life I've stumbled into, but another part is content to stay here with Elias, tangled in laughter and light.

We lay there, listening to the muffled conversation, the occasional sharp rise in Lucian's voice, until the sound of it becomes as comfortable as the silence was before. I almost forget that there's a world outside these walls, a world that's still a little dangerous, a little unkind.

Elias shifts so we're face to face, the tips of our noses almost touching. His eyes search mine, soft and serious now. "You really like it here?" he asks, and the note of uncertainty surprises me.

I nod, my throat too tight to speak. It’s overwhelming sometimes, how much I like it, how much I need it. He kisses me then, soft and slow, his lips curving into a smile against mine. It feels like a promise, like everything I never knew I wanted until they offered it to me. I kiss him back, the world shrinking to just this—the taste of him, the weight of his body pressing me into the covers, the warmth pooling deep inside me.

It’s only when Lucian reappears that I remember there’s more to life than this nest, this incredible morning. He's dressed now, or at least half-dressed, a pair of sweatpants slung low around his hips. The look on his face makes me pause, makes everything pause, and a thread of worry winds its way through me.

He runs a hand through his red hair, mouth a tight line. “It was—” he starts, then stops, his eyes meeting mine. I brace myself, not sure what I’m hoping for. “We’ve got company coming,” he finally says, the words dropping like stones in the quiet room. “Your parents. Somehow they got our address. They're on their way.”

For a moment, all I hear is my own breath, quick and sharp in the sudden silence. It hits me like a slap, and all the air rushes out of me. Lucian’s next to me before I even realize he’s moved, his arms around me, pulling me close. Elias follows, wrapping himself around both of us, and I let myself collapse into them, too overwhelmed to do anything else.

Panic wells up, a rising flood, and I forget how to breathe. I don't hear Lucian's voice, don't feel Elias's touch. I can't. I'm shaking too hard, gasping for air, drowning in the certainty of it: They're coming for me. They'll take me back. We have to leave, pack up, go, now, before it's too late. I try to pull away, try to run, but Lucian doesn't let me. He holds on, his voice a lifeline I can't grasp. He says my name, again and again, and it's Elias's hand that finally anchors me, gentle on my cheek.

I hear my pulse, an angry drum, louder than anything else. They're coming, and I should have known. Should have known they wouldn't let me go that easily, wouldn't let me disappear without a fight. We’re not safe here. We’re not safe anywhere.

Lucian holds me tighter, pulling me against him, repeating my name over and over. He says it like a prayer, like a promise, until it's the only thing I hear, drowning out the rest of the world.

“Lydia,” he murmurs, low and urgent. “Stay with me, sweetheart. Stay here. They can’t touch you.”

His voice pulls me from the depths, slowly, until I’m back in the room with them, the bright living room where we made love and I thought I was safe. I’m shaking, can’t stop, but he doesn't let go. I sag against him, breathless, my heart still racing.

I try to speak, try to tell them we need to leave, but all that comes out is a sob. Elias is there, wrapping around us, his touch careful and sure. He takes my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away tears I didn’t know I’d started crying.

“Hey,” he says, soft and steady. “We’ve got you. We’re right here.”

I let my eyes close, his voice calming, the way a warm bath is calming—like I could sink into it, disappear under the surface and just float. He doesn't ask me to be anything but here, but now, and I don’t know how they do it, make it all seem so simple.

The fight goes out of me, replaced by a quiet desperation. “I don’t want to go back,” I say, a raw, gasping whisper. “I can’t.”

Lucian kisses my hair, his breath a balm against my skin. “You won’t. We won’t let that happen. Okay? Just breathe.”

I try, but the air is too thick. I’ve lived my whole life looking over my shoulder, knowing they were always right behind me, ready to drag me back to Silvercrest, back to everything I ran away from. It's like the past is catching up, and I can't outrun it this time.

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