Page 76 of Bound in Blood

“You have been to Montridge.” My words sound like an accusation, which I suppose they are.

“Yes, I have been to Montridge. Once since Ophelia began attending there.”

“On the day the wolf girl was murdered?”

He nods.

“I saw you, but I hoped I was mistaken. In the young vampires’ minds. You controlled them somehow. You forced them to kill that girl.”

He scowls. “Of courseyouwould think that.”

I bang my fist on the table. “I saw you, Lucian.”

“And you of all people know how easily a memory can be manipulated. Yes, I was there, but I”—he jabs a finger into his chest—“did not force them to do anything. The Skotádi have access to dark magic that can turn even angels into demons. They can do anything they want to…” He hisses out a breath, his eyes wild.

“You would know. You were their leader, were you not?”

“I was never their leader,” he scoffs. “Another lie dear old Uncle Giorgios told you.”

I bristle at the mention of my brother’s name. “Giorgios told Ophelia and my sireds you killed me.”

Lucian growls, his teeth bared in warning. “It wouldn’t be the first time my uncle has blamed me for a crime I didn’t commit.”

All I can see when I look at him is the boy he was—the man he was before the Skotádi turned him to the darkness. And then I recall the sight of him in our family home, holding his sisters in his arms and their still-beating hearts in his hands as he sobbedfor them. He was the only person in the room. The only person his mother would have allowed to enter the house aside from Giorgios and me, and Giorgios was with me the entire time. Still, there is a part of me that wants to believe he is incapable of such cruelty, just as I did that day. So I ask him again. “Tell me you did not do it. Tell me it was not you, Lucian. Please.”

His hazel eyes, so cold and unfeeling before now, fill with tears. “I wish I could. I wish I did not see their faces every single time I close my eyes. That I did not feel their hearts beating in my hands after I tore them from their chests or smell the blood that soaked through my clothes. I wish I could clean their blood from beneath my fingernails.” He holds up his hands. “But over five hundred years later and I still cannot!” He drops his head.

Anger and bitter sadness fill the room, and I am no longer sure which feelings are his and which are mine. I do not know how he severed our bond, but it is as though seeing him has put it back in place.

“No.” I shake my head. “They were your sisters. And your own mother. You adored them, Lucian. I know you did.” Tears stream down my face, and I am unable and unwilling to stop them.

They were everything to me, but that does not mean I am not a monster.

It takes me a few seconds to realize that he did not say those words aloud.

He looks up at me, his expression full of terrified fury now, and he shrieks like a wounded animal. “Get out! Get out of my head!” As he scrambles backward, the chair hits the ground, and he stumbles over it. “How are you doing that? I blocked you. You’re not supposed to be in there!” He grabs fistfuls of his hair and pulls. “Get out of my fucking head!” he screams.

Get out. Get out. Get out.He chants the words silently over and over again, preventing me from hearing anything else.

He is in clear distress, his thoughts and actions deranged, and it tugs at something paternal that is buried deep inside me. I cannot resist the urge to soothe him. “I am sorry, Lucian. I did not mean to.”

But he carries on like he cannot hear me.

“Lucian.” Ophelia says his name, and he whips his head around to look at her, his chest heaving and eyes wild. “It’s okay. Sit down, please, and we can talk some more.”

“No.” He shakes his head vigorously as he backs away toward the door. “I have to get out of here.” Before he goes, he points a finger in my direction. “You—stay out of my fucking head. I don’t want you there. You have no right. If you couldn’t be there when I needed you… When I really fucking needed you…” Tears are squeezed from the corners of his eyes. “You have no fucking right.”

Frozen to the spot, I can do nothing but watch him leave. I expected to feel anger and betrayal, but the overwhelming feelings that remain now that he is gone are sadness and confusion.

“How did I fail him so badly, Ophelia?”

She does not reply. Instead, she climbs onto my lap and wraps her arms around me. I bury my head against her neck.

And I cry. Not a few tears, but a torrent of them. Every single one that I have held onto for the past five hundred years. I was a terrible father to him. I let them all down so badly. And for the rest of my life, no matter what I do, I will never be able to change that.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

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