Page 46 of Lucien

Luc didn’t have a high success rate with mortals. It had been so easy to kidnap Roman’s Danny. To hurt him. To take his life. The terrifying truth was that every day Jamie was mortal was a risk. A chance for him to be stolen from Luc. By illness. By injury. By accident or malicious intent. It didn’t matterhow.

But to turn him would be to hurt him. Jamie thought he was ready, but he didn’tknow. He didn’t understand the brutal reality of being a newly turned vampire. The endless, overwhelming urges. The horrible mix of feeling at once too empty (key pieces of humanity simply gone) and too full (filled with a new, hungry presence).

Luc wondered again how the poor, lovely boy he’d turned was doing. Did Danny regret giving in to his mate bond? Did he regret his choice, staying by Roman’s side, even knowing what he was?

Luc pondered Jamie’s suggestion to just…call them up and ask. What a fucking concept. To call Roman on the phone and ask how he was faring.

But Luc needed to make a choice.

He didn’t have his old friend’s number, but he had someone else’s…

If Soren would even pick up his call.

“Did you have to kill our driver? We have to be hours still from the nearest town.”

Evrard sighed deeply in that way he did when he was driven to the edge by Lucien’s very existence. “Don’t whinge, Lucien. We can travel faster by foot than carriage.”

“It’s raining though.” Lucien knew he sounded petulant, but he couldn’t stop himself. The skies were pouring down, thundering onto the carriage roof, and now they were stuck, unless one of them was willing to take the reins.

Lucien certainly wasn’t. It was just as wet in the driver’s seat as anywhere else outside the carriage.

He didn’t understand Evrard’s actions. They’d both fed two nights ago, each having their fill of an unsuspecting village girl. And still, halfway through the journey, Evrard had leaped out of the carriage window and into the driver’s seat, draining poor Jacques in less than a minute.

And for what reason?

“You can’t have been all that hungry,” Lucien grumbled, folding his arms against his chest. He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. There was a strange rotting smell in the carriage, one that couldn’t be coming from the freshly dead driver.

Evrard shot him an irritated look. Or at least, Lucien assumed he was irritated by the sighing. His maker’s face was incredibly hard to read, even at the best of times.

At first Luc thought Evrard wasn’t going to explain himself at all, but after a moment, Evrard sighed again, deigning to reply. “It’s not only hunger for blood that drives us,” he told Luc haughtily. “You’ll see as you put more years behind you. Sometimes you just need to…devour.”

How many years Evrard meant, Lucien had no idea. His maker had never told Lucien his age, and it was impossible to tell just by looking at him. And not only because his physical signs of aging would have halted the moment he was turned.

Evrard just had one of those disconcertingly ageless faces. The palest skin Lucien had ever seen, framed by white-blond hair he kept unfashionably loose, hanging down past his shoulders. And at night, such as now, he insisted on maintaining his “true face.” Black eyes, sharp fangs. Sometimes he seemed ancient. And sometimes he just seemed…other.

Inhuman.

Like he was driven by monstrous instincts Lucien—even in his newborn, blood-hungry state—couldn’t begin to comprehend.

Like with this useless fucking attack ruining their night.

Evrard tapped a sharp fingernail against the carriage window. “It’s all for the best anyway,” he mused.

“How?”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“I’m not going to Limoges with you, Lucien. You’ll be continuing on your own.”

On his own? Lucien hadn’t been on his own for a single minute since he’d been turned. They were coming onto a year now, and Evrard had always been by his side. “But—I can’t— When will you return?”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

An interminable silence. Then, “Don’t be dense,” Evrard scolded. “I won’t be returning.”

It was like a punch to the gut. However frustrating, however unknowable Evrard may have been, Lucien had assumed they were tied together. Bound by blood. “You’re…leaving me?”

Evrard sighed deeply at the frantic edge Lucien knew was in his voice. “I’m doing you a favor, young Lucien. Staying by my side at this point would only be a danger to you.”

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