Page 35 of Lucien

Jamie likes us just as we are, his monster argued.

It was becoming increasingly clear how true that was. After all, his human had melted so prettily at Luc’s seduction. It had made Luc feel like his old self again, able to touch and taste and bite without fear.

And then afterward…

You know you don’t get to pick and choose what parts of yourself to keep, right?His young human had a point. Luc had been angry for as long as he could remember. At his family for disregarding him from the moment of birth. At his maker for turning him into this bloodthirsty creature only to leave him. At Victoria for toying with him. And at Roman.

For so long he’d been angry at Roman.

For his supposed betrayal, yes. But mostly for his having finally seen the real Lucien—the violence, the pettiness, the rage—only to run away. Forcontinuingto run away. Abandoning their brotherhood because of one little…misunderstanding.

You tried to kill him. This from the tiniest, faintest voice of reason in Luc’s brain. But what were a few attempts at murder between two of their kind?

Child’s play, really.

But Jamie already knew of Luc’s rage, of his pettiness. He’d told Luc he’d already seen him feed—seen him kill—in his visions. And he seemed not to mind. Was he naive? Jamie didn’t come across as such. But maybe that was how it worked. He was Luc’s destined mate, so he was hardwired not to mind a little bit of psychotic tendencies.

Luc smirked into his whiskey at the thought. He never could have imagined fate dealing him such a perfect hand as his pretty flower.

He watched as Jamie worked his way down the bar, his movements always surprisingly graceful for one so tall and slender. Now if only Luc could take Jamie away from all these cretins, lock him away to have Jamie all to himself.

He’d feast on him for endless days.

Except…Jamie clearly thrived on humanity. He enjoyed charming others, wasn’t bothered by interacting with the unwashed masses. Luc had been similar, once. He’d enjoyed smoky, crowded bars and the customary dances of flirtation.

He could be like that again. For Jamie.

The only issue with this particular city’s unwashed masses…

“Do you know a pair of vampire twins? Dudes with red hair?” Jamie had asked him that morning.

Luc hadn’t known what to say other than, “In passing. Not well.”

He couldn’t bring himself to lie outright, but he also couldn’t bring himself to give the full story about the twins’ threats and orders for Luc to leave. Too much bad news for the beginnings of a courtship. Luc had already had to give Jamie dire warnings the night before—that Jamie may have to leave his family and hometown for good, if he turned.

And, for that matter, if they were leaving anyway, what was the point of telling Jamie about the identical menaces? Luc hadn’t wanted to bother Jamie with anything else, especially something that was really only a mild inconvenience.

Luc wasn’t going to kill anyone. The twins would have no reason to hunt him down.

Jamie had accepted his response easily enough. But Luc had been left feeling uneasy. What did it mean that Jamie had seen the twins in his vision? Did Jamie only see visions of significant events? Dangers ahead? Or perhaps Jamie saw glimpses of little things around him as well. Inconsequential sightings.

Luc hadn’t wanted to delve into Jamie’s visions at the time. To do so would interrupt the peace and sweetness of their morning (or afternoon, given how late Jamie slept). Jamie with his green hair even more mussed than usual, lazily licking into Luc’s mouth while Luc brought them both to completion with his hand once again. It had been too perfect to mar.

Still, Luc should handle it.

Perhaps there was a way to signal his desire to stay in town without arousing the twins’ ire. A way to prove he had no nefarious intentions toward their citizens. Not for the first time, Luc wished he’d been given some sort of handbook. Some clear guide to vampire rules and etiquette.

He wished he hadn’t been left to fend for himself and figure it all out on his own.

He wished he hadn’t been abandoned.

Roman was sulking again. A full-on mope, the kind that came around a few times a decade.

“Cheer up, mon ami,” Luc urged. “We’ll find you something pretty to drink tonight.”

Roman frowned into his scotch and soda. “Not every problem can be solved with a pretty face, Lucien.”

“Why, sure it can.” Luc relaxed back into his chair, feigning easy indifference. It didn’t pay to give in to Roman’s moods when he was feeling somber. “What else would there be?”

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