Page 34 of Wicked Chains
"Well, good," I say, trying to sound firm despite the sudden warmth in my cheeks. "Because Hank and I are a package deal now."
Lucien shakes his head, and something about his expression makes me pause. There's a softness there that I've rarely seen, a hint of the man beneath the perfect, controlled exterior. For a moment, I can imagine him as something other than the Coven's enforcer, the stern vampire who switched sides at the first sign of trouble.
And then I remember the conversation I overheard. Ash taunting Lucien, telling him he stayed for me. Telling him he was risking everything to protect a girl who didn't even want him.
Was it true? Did Lucien align himself with Ash, with the Blood Moon Coven, just to keep me safe? The thought is laughable, but…
"What is it?" Lucien asks, his head tilting slightly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
I blink, realizing I've been staring. "Like what?"
"Like you're trying to solve a particularly complex puzzle."
"Just wondering if vampires can freeze if it’s too cold out," I deflect. "You know, since your whole body temperature situation is already pretty chilly."
His eyes narrow. "You're deflecting. And lying. Poorly."
"Well, maybe I'm just admiring the view," I say, because apparently my mouth has a death wish today. "Is that a crime?"
"No," Lucien says, his voice dropping lower. "But there are better things you could do with that mouth of yours than lie to me."
The air between us changes, charged like right before lightning strikes. "Like what?" I challenge him, holding his gaze.
For a moment, I think he'll back down, retreat behind that wall of perfect control. But then he moves, faster than humanly possible, his hand cupping the back of my neck as he pulls me to him. His lips find mine, hard and insistent, and I'm so shocked I freeze for a second before responding.
The kiss is not gentle, not hesitant, but confident and consuming. His other hand comes up to my face, holding me as if I'm something precious, something that might break. Or run away. My eyes flutter closed, and I lean into him, my free hand gripping the front of his shirt.
I should push him away. I should be furious. This is Lucien, the Coven's lapdog, the vampire who betrayed?—
But his mouth is kissing me in a way that makes rational thought impossible, and I find myself kissing him back with an intensity that surprises even me.
Then, suddenly, he pulls away. His eyes, now definitely glowing crimson, aren't on me anymore but fixed on something over my shoulder. His entire body goes tense.
"Merde," he curses softly, then steps back from me. "I have to go."
"What?" I blink, disoriented from the sudden shift. "Lucien, what?—"
But he's already turning away, his movements quick and purposeful. "Keep the coat," he calls back over his shoulder. "And go back inside, Rose. Now."
I watch him stride away, confused and frustrated by his hot-and-cold behavior. One minute he's kissing me like his life depends on it, the next he's rushing off without explanation.
That's when I see the cat, Galanthis, slinking along the edge of the walkway, its sleek black form unmistakable. I thought he’d gone with Wickersly, after all, he was supposed to be loyal to the Crescent Moon Coven. But he’s apparently switched sides just like everyone else. Its yellow eyes watch Lucien go, then he turns and trots off in the opposite direction.
I watch the cat leave, and freeze when I spot a familiar figure standing at the edge of the quad.
Ash. He was there the whole time, watching us. Watching me with Lucien.
The blood mark on my arm throbs in warning, and I know that whatever game Ash is playing, whatever power struggle he's engaged in with Helena, I've just given him more ammunition.
And I have absolutely no idea what move to make next.
Sixteen
Rose
Sleep is not happening tonight. I've been tossing around in these sheets for hours, my brain replaying the day. Ash's eyes on me as Lucien walked away, Helena's threats, and then there's the pressure of the mark on my arm, a constant reminder that I'm owned, that I’m not free. I flip my pillow for the dozenth time, as if the problem is my bed and not the fact that my life has turned into a nightmare ever since I got the one thing I’d always wanted my whole life: real magic.
'Be careful what you wish for' has never been more accurate.
