Page 54 of Forsaken Desire
Yet, I’d disrespected her and our bond.
Pressure built at the bridge of my nose.
She hadn’t been dead?—
She’d been in prison.
If the truth ever came out, she could do as she wished to me. She would rightfully be angry.
I deserved her hatred, but I wouldn’t let her go—I couldn’t.
20
Itucked the comforter under my chin, waiting for Lucian to return to bed. He’d disappeared almost an hour ago. The bright, pale light on the digital clock sitting on his nightstand told me as much.
I was an incredibly light sleeper, so when the bed jostled earlier, I woke in time to watch him roll out of bed. It’d been about survival in prison, but now it was habitual. He’d slid on pajama bottoms, and walked out shirtless, his back muscles moving with his retreat.
With his absence, I’d taken the opportunity to call my parole officer and schedule a meeting for him to come to my duplex in a few weeks. I didn’t plan on telling Lucian about the meeting, mainly because I didn’t want to suffer the embarrassment. Once the meeting was scheduled, I waited a while for him to return, but he didn’t.
An hour later, I couldn’t continue to just lie in bed.
I shoved off the comforter and threw my legs over the edge of the bed. Was he avoiding me? Hiding from me because he didn’t want me to see his disappointment?
I released a breath of air and adjusted the button-down he’d let me wear. It was so big it fell to my knees and gaped at the collar, showing the top of my breasts. I didn’t bother sliding the heels on and padded out of the bedroom on bare feet.
When we arrived last night, I hadn’t had the energy to explore, so he’d escorted me past the foyer of the big, quiet house and straight to the second floor. I stepped onto a slim rug covering the dark wood floors. To the right stretched a long, dark hallway, but I took the left toward the stairs, passing one other door at the top of the stairs. A peek inside told me it was an office.
The second step before reaching the bottom creaked. I followed the only path down the hall. Five steps later, it opened to a simple entryway with a coat hanger beside the door. The hall continued, and I padded over the matching rug. The first turn was into a dimly lit kitchen.
I continued past and toward the crackle of a fire. The hall opened to the left, the entryway wide and open. The back of the couch faced me. Lucian sat, staring out of the huge window that almost took up the entire wall. Moonlight spilled in.
He raised a glass to his mouth and sipped. The gold liquid caught a shine from the moon. Deep whiskey that looked brighter with the light shining through it. The color reminded me of his eyes.
He was drinking in peace. If I bothered him . . .
I backed up, and a low creak made me freeze. He didn’t react, taking another sip.
“Josephine.” He said my name abruptly, his voice husky. He tipped the rest of the glass back. In a movement so sudden, he threw the empty glass at the window. Upon impact, it shattered, sprinkling glass everywhere.
I gasped, hurrying forward to make sure he was okay.
What was wrong with him?
As soon as I rounded the couch, I could see he wasn’t all there.
I thought he’d heard me earlier but it was clear he hadn’t. I rushed to his side, propping my knees against the edge of the couch and between his spread thighs. He didn’t react other than closing his eyes and releasing a shuddering exhale.
“Lucian,” I whispered, lifting higher on my knees to lean over his face. I scanned the furrowed brow and turned-down lips. “You’re bleeding.” I peered at the nick on his cheek. Blood stained the surface. I swiped my thumb across it and it didn’t continue to bleed. Thank Moon, it was a surface cut.
“Josephine?” His voice was so incredibly vulnerable. His forehead wrinkled from how hard he squeezed his eyes shut. My heart ached.
“Yes.”
“Josephine,” he repeated, and his arms wound around my waist, pulling me close to tuck his head under my boobs, his ear to my belly. “I’m sorry.”
I stiffened.
Why was he sorry? Had he changed his mind about me?
