Page 42 of Made in Malice

After closing my room, I check to make sure it’s locked, even though I know Alden has a key. I haven’t seen my brutish escort in several days. For all of Rory’s insistence that I have protection, the need seems to have dried up now that they know I’m not going to run away like my mother did. I’m still curious about what made her give all this up, but no one on the island seems to want to talk to me, let alone give me answers about the past.

“Headed out?” Astrid catches me breezing past a hall, and I backtrack to answer her.

“Yes, for a few hours.” Her gaze slides over me, and the small sigh she lets out leaves me with the impression that I’ve disappointed her somehow.

“How’s school? Making lots of friends?” Now she sounds hopeful.

“It’s good, a big change, but I’m adjusting.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. It’s been a while since an Umbra attended Cadieux. I bet they are all enamored with you.”

She couldn’t be more wrong, but I’m not going to burst her bubble, so I just smile and hope it doesn’t come off as forced.

“Have fun.” She waves me off as if she thinks I’m headed out to a party, then picks up her wine glass to sip it.

I make it off the island without any other run-ins, but that’s where my luck runs out. As soon as I park my SUV in the side lot, I spot a familiar physique. Tall, broad, covered in tattoos, and carrying a chip on his shoulder, Lucian Morningstar is hard to miss. I sink lower into my seat, hoping he hasn’t spotted me and it’s only a coincidence he’s walking up the block. He’s alone, which doesn’t strike me as odd, but the way people seem to avoid him does.

Instead of watching him, I scan the people walking around on the warm night, and I’m surprised by how many people wait until he’s past them before stealing a glance in his direction, as if they don’t want to draw his attention. Does everyone know who he is, or is his presence just that visceral?

Once he disappears around the corner in the opposite direction of the bar, I slink out of my car and speed walk to get inside in case he turns around for some reason.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t more nervous today than I was my first night. Jimmy made it clear that my job here is contingent on me not making any waves, so I’m pretty sure he would fire me on the spot if Lucian walked in and said one word to me.

I didn’t bother with a purse tonight. I have my small wallet tucked into my pocket, so I avoid the need to head to the back room and go straight to the bar. Mickey is perched on a stool, speaking to a man while he glances between the man and one of the large televisions near the ceiling.

Instead of interrupting him, I punch in, then check if the cooler needs to be restocked before taking a rack of dirty glasses to the washer in the back. He’s still chatting when I return, but he gives me a nod in greeting.

I serve a few drafts and bottles before I have to intrude and ask him for a mixed drink. “Sorry to bother you.” I smile at the man Mickey’s seated nearby.

“No bother, darlin’, what do ya need?”

“A Long Island.”

Mickey lets out a long sigh. “Guess I need to get my old ass moving. We’re picking up,” he says, rising slowly to his feet and stretching a little before grabbing the stool and putting it near the other end of the bar.

We’re nowhere near as busy as Saturday, but it’s steady enough that my night goes by quickly, and before I know it, I’m cashing out at eleven.

“See you tomorrow, darlin’. It’s only going to get busier,” Mickey warns as I send a wave in his direction.

There’s a welcome breeze coming off the water as I make my way to my car. I’m a little tired from the long day and regretting how early I need to wake up in the morning.

Without warning, an arm wraps around me from behind, and a hand clamps over my mouth so hard, I can barely draw a breath. I claw at the fingers over my face, but a few angry words whispered in my ear stop all my fight, despite how hard I’m breathing. “Evening, little lamb.”

My mind is going a hundred miles an hour, but my ability to act seems to have been sucked right out of me by Lucian’s voice.

“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” I swear he runs his nose up the side of my neck, inhaling. I try to shake my head, but it doesn’t dislodge him. Instead, he steps even closer to me, so I can feel him against my back. My thundering heart pounds out an erratic rhythm, missing beats, or maybe it’s just going so fast, it feels that way.

“I want to talk, and I don’t want any interruptions, even from you,” he tells me as if holding me immobile and preventing me from speaking is a perfectly logical way to accomplish that. I give him a little nod, hoping if I’m agreeable, he will release me, or at least my mouth, since I’m afraid I’m going to hyperventilate.

When he doesn’t budge or say anything else, I tap his fingers over my mouth, asking him to release his grip. A swell of panic begins to rise in me right before he finally drops his hand. I lean my head back, sucking in thirsty gulps of warm air with my mouth open.

His fingers stroke over my neck, and I realize I’m leaning against him, relying on him to keep me up while I regain control of my breathing, and there’s nothing I can do to change that yet. It’s like my body went through too many reactions, and now it’s just too busy making sure I survive.

“Keep walking,” Lucian says darkly, and I turn my head to see a couple of guys who were at the bar. They don’t even make eye contact with me as they pass, and I think I hate them more than I hate Lucian. They have no idea if I’m in any real danger or not, but they do nothing, say nothing, as they leave me with the devil.

“You can…let me…go now,” I pant as I raise my head off his chest.

“Why would I do that?”

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