Page 25 of Blood & Lace
I made a face. "You know they're keeping me safe from you, right?"
He smiled even harder. "I would never hurt you! You're too perfect."
Fuck. Seriously, if he wasn't so insane, Lucero would totally be my type. He was strong as hell, dumb of ass, and his body was so delicious I wanted to lick every inch of it.
Again. No. OMG. Do I have Stockholm syndrome? This is what psychosis feels like. I just know it.
"Lucero."
"I love when you say my name." He sighed. "It's like your voice just reaches right into my pants and wraps around my cock so tightly it hurts." He pressed against me more, his eyes half glazed. Whether it was from lust or blood loss, it was a toss up. "Come on, help me figure out who wants me dead. If… If you do that, then I'll leave you alone."
My brain screamed in sirens and clanging bells. Clearly, this was all bullshit. Right? And yet I couldn't pass on the opportunity to be rid of this colossal pain in my ass.
"Fine," I said. "Once we figure out who tried to paint you as a diddler, we'll go our separate ways."
Lucero's eyes widened. "They painted me as awhat?" His eyes darkened, his mouth in a straight line. "I'll fucking kill whoever did that. Is that what you thought I was all this time?"
I stared at him. "Well, yes."
"Fuck that," he growled. "I don't do that shit. That's disgusting!" he growled. "Ugh. I feel sick."
He pushed off me and plopped into a chair. Lucero stared at the ground and he genuinely looked as if he would throw up at any moment. I sat up and moved to him. If I wasn't sure about what he was before, but I was now.
"No wonder you didn't want anything to do with me," he muttered. "I'm going to murder whoever said that shit."
Lucero was talking to himself now, mumbling under his breath as he discussed how many ways he would hit the person who had made me think that of him. I let him have his moment, my brain still too scrambled by everything that had transpired.
"Mr. Auclair." Summers came back inside. "You have a visitor."
"Who?" I asked.
"He says he's Emir Marino."
I glanced at Lucero. "Someone you called?"
"Yep! He's the family doc." He grinned, completely forgetting his anguish for the moment. God, he had worse memory loss than a hamster. When a thin, small man walked in with a bag and a frown, I remembered him from the wedding. His dark hair was piled into a bun that spilled curls on either side of his face. "Emir!"
The man turned and glared at both of us.
"What the hell, Lucero? Let me see the injury."
He swept in, all confidence and full of concern. As Emir looked at Lucero, I felt awkward. But it also sent a familiar pang through my chest. He finally took the towel off and growled.
"Who stabbed you?"
"My husband," Lucero said proudly. "He held my hand."
Emir spun on me. "I should slit your fucking throat."
"Try it," I challenged.
8
LUCERO
Hot glorious waterwashed over my skin. I was careful with my injured hand. It itched but I was certain it had nothing to do with the wound and everything to do with the fact Onyx wasn't next to me. Every inch of my body had an underlying itch that no amount of scratching would ever help get rid of. I popped my neck, easing some of the tension there. Sleeping out on a park bench was, in fact, not the best idea. I could feel aches and pains that I would have never noticed before. They were all worth it.
Ringing penetrated past the sound of running water.
