5. Luna

Chapter 5

Luna

H e is standing by the fireplace. Shadows dance on his face, heightening his features; the strong line of his jaw, the thick dark eyebrows, the stubbled chin. His hair is jet-black with a slight curl in it. Longer than most men wear their hair, but not long enough that he'd be able to tie it back.

Shrugging off his suit jacket, Lucien tosses it onto the chair he was sitting in a moment ago. His shoulders ripple beneath his shirt, and I can't help wanting to run my thumbs under his black braces then press my palms to his broad chest.

"You are not going to answer me?" I ask, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

Thornfield tilts his head. He picks up his glass from the mantlepiece and strides back to his chair.

As he moves, my gaze flicks to his waist, then his crotch. I bite my lower lip and internally chastise myself; why the hell am I checking him out when I should be running for my life?

Why did I follow him in here?

Why am I sitting in his armchair drinking whiskey instead of screaming and fighting my way out?

I could lie to myself; claim it's because I'm afraid of him and that I know I wouldn't outrun him. But that's not true.

I am sitting here staring at him because he intrigues me.

From the second he came into the shop all that time ago, I couldn't get him out of my thoughts. I tried to. But every now and then I'd find myself daydreaming about his face. The way he looked at me. The way he said my name.

"No, Luna," he says slowly. "I am not going to answer you. But I do have something to show you if you'd like to see it."

I frown at him. Once again, my eyes dart to his crotch. This time, he notices and lets out a deep dark chuckle that trickles over my skin like warm honey.

"Not that," he says, meeting my eyes as I start to blush furiously. "Unless you'd like to see it?"

I suck in a deep breath, my cheeks pinching inwards.

Several men have hit on me since Steven disappeared. A guy I went to college with. A customer. The barista in Starbucks.

Each time, I felt a sense of panic bloom in my chest. The thought of being intimate with a man, any man, terrified me. Because how could I ever trust anyone again after Steven so skillfully tricked me into believing he loved me?

Yet, here, with this big muscly vampire – I wait for the panic to arrive and it doesn't.

"Maybe another time," Lucien mutters, still smirking. Then he walks to a large oak desk and pulls open a drawer. He pulls out a large black tablet then crosses the room and hands it to me, taking my whiskey glass and setting it down on the coffee table.

"Press play when you're ready." He sits down opposite me again, and leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, steepling his fingers.

He licks his fangs.

I glance down at the screen, then tap to bring it to life.

I can feel Thornfield watching me, but I cannot take my gaze from the image on the screen; a blurry still of a dark room. A man sitting in a chair.

Steven.

"What is this?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper, my heart hammering in my chest.

With fear or anticipation? I cannot tell the difference anymore.

"It is a gift," Thornfield replies.

I inhale sharply, gripping the sides of the screen so tightly my knuckles whiten and my fingers ache with the pressure.

With a shaking hand, I press play.

Steven blinks at the camera. Blood stains the side of his face, but other than that he looks unharmed. His eyes widen as a shadow moves across his face; someone else is in the room. They do not speak but I know exactly who it is.

The camera zooms in. Steven stares straight down the lens.

"Luna," he says, his tongue tripping over my name so it comes out like a choked curse word. "I have an apology to make."

He looks past the camera, and I picture Thornfield nodding at him, perhaps holding up some kind of poster with the exact words on it that Steven is supposed to be repeating.

"I treated you very badly, and you deserve better." He swallows hard. He never apologized to me once in the two years we were together, no matter what he did or how much he hurt me. All the times I went to bed crying or begged him to just be kind to me... he never said he was sorry.

"I am truly, very sorry for the way I treated you." Steven's hands are shaking. He looks suddenly terrified and begins to speak quicker. "I am a monster. A narcissistic, control-loving, power-hungry abuser."

There is a pause. "Say it again and mean it this time." Lucien's voice growls.

Steven clears his throat. "I am a monster. A narcissistic, control-loving, power-hungry abuser."

"Again," Lucien barks.

"I am a monster. A narcissistic, control-loving, power-hungry abuser."

"Again," Lucien commands, louder this time.

He makes Steven say those words again, and again, and again until finally... finally... it sounds as though he means them.

They break as they pass his lips. Crack and splinter and are swallowed up by his tears.

A choked sob thickens in my mouth. I close my eyes tightly. I feel the warmth of Lucien's gaze on me. But when I open my eyes again, he's no longer there. Pressure lands on my shoulders. Gentle but firm.

He is standing behind me.

One hand moves from my shoulder to my chin. He holds my face, tilting it down so I'm forced to keep watching. His lips are by my ear, his breath strangely warm and comforting on my sensitive neck.

"This is the best bit, Luna," he whispers.

Steven is crying loudly now. Big, thick tears are rolling down his pale cheeks. He shakes his head. "Please," he whispers.

Silence greets his plea. He looks back at the camera. At me.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness, Luna, and I don't deserve an easy death." His eyes widen. He is trembling. "I deserve to suffer for what I did to you." He starts to pull against the restraints on his wrists. "I deserve to suffer because a man like me will never know how to treat a woman as special as you."

A shadow falls over him.

The silhouette of Lucien's broad, muscular body appears. White shirt, black braces. Just like today. He is holding a large, curved blade in his hand.

"I'm glad you think so," Lucien says slowly. "Because I'm going to make sure you get exactly what you deserve. I'm going to make sure you can never hurt her again."

I don't think I'm breathing. I have forgotten how.

The heat of Lucien's hand on my shoulder, and on my neck, and the closeness of his body as he leans over the chair behind me... it is dizzying.

"Does watching that make you feel powerful?" he asks.

My palms and fingers are clammy. "I don't know what it makes me feel."

"Maybe you should watch it again," he whispers.

I watch the video three more times.

Each time, I notice something different. The fear in Steven's eyes. How weak he looks. How pathetic. Like a field mouse caught in the talons of a predator it can never hope to defeat.

On the second viewing, I notice that he has pissed himself and I have to fight the urge to laugh.

On the third viewing, I start to wonder how in the world I ever found him so terrifying.

How did he have so much control over me for so long? How did this man – this pathetic specimen of humanity – systematically destroy every flicker of joy and replace it with darkness?

Insecurity?

Doubt?

Anxiety?

Pain?

"I've seen enough." I turn the screen off and sit back in my chair.

Lucien takes his hands from my shoulders, and I instantly miss his touch. He puts the screen back in the desk drawer, then leans on the edge and folds his arms in front of his chest.

"Are you waiting for me to thank you?"

He shrugs. "If you feel thanks is appropriate, I welcome it, but I did what I did because he deserved it. Not because I was seeking your approval."

"So, this isn't some kind of weird vampire mating ritual? Kill off the boyfriend? Mail his body parts to the woman you're trying to seduce?"

For a moment, Lucien frowns at me, but then he chuckles again. It is so unexpected, it makes me smile. Dark, and delicious, his laugh is like liquid sin.

I feel myself blushing again and angle my body away from the fire as though it is the flames that are making me warm.

"I can honestly say, this is a first for me," he says, rolling up his sleeves. "And I can't imagine it's something I will be doing again."

"You've never cut off someone's penis and put it in a box before?"

Lucien tilts his head. "Oh, I've cut off all kinds of body parts. But the box was new." He taps his foot on the wooden floor. "I wanted you to know there was someone looking after you."

"You wanted me to know you were looking after me?"

"Not true," he says. "I did not intend for you to find out it was me, but the evening's events got away from me."

I reach for my whiskey. I have always hated whiskey, but it is cleaning the taste of the vomit from my mouth, and calming my nerves, and I need something to do with my hands.

A thick, stubborn ache is nestling between my bones, and I feel suddenly exhausted.

As if he can tell, Thornfield looks me up and down and his expression changes. "You should rest," he says firmly. "We can talk more tomorrow."

"Rest?" I almost laugh; he expects me to rest? Here? In his house?

"There are chambers you can use tonight. You'll be comfortable."

"Chambers?" This time, I do laugh. "Mansions don't have bedrooms?"

Thornfield doesn't seem to get the joke or, at least, doesn't respond to it. Instead, he stands and holds out his hand for mine.

I quirk an eyebrow at him. "And if I don't want to stay?"

"That would be unfortunate because it really is best that you do."

"I want to go." I stand up, deliberately not taking his hand. Instead, I down the rest of my drink then put the glass down firmly on the coffee table.

"I would advise you not to."

"And what if I insist you take me home?"

Lucien's jaw twitches. Those familiar little flecks of red appear in his eyes, and I notice his tongue moving over his fangs behind his pursed lips.

"I cannot take you home, Luna. I would prefer you stay because you understand it is best for your safety. But if you insist on leaving…" He sighs heavily. "I will do what I have to in order to keep you safe. You might not care whether you live or die, but I do."

"Which brings me back to why do you care?" I put my hands on my hips and close the gap between us.

"It doesn't matter why. What matters is that if you leave, those vampires will track you down and finish what they started."

"Why? I'm nothing to them." Even if for some reason I do matter, none of them stand a chance against Lucien. He proved as much when he crushed those vampires beneath his feet.

I stare at him and a look I can't decipher flits across his face. There is something more happening here; something he's hiding from me.

A long quivering moment passes between us. And then, just like that, the fight is gone. I have nothing left. Exhaustion scrapes its jagged claws down my bones and leaves me barely able to stand.

The thought of making it back across the city and then being at home alone, in the dark, with images of Steven's groveling face dancing behind my eyes... I can't even contemplate it.

"Are you staying, Luna?" Thornfield's fingers twitch at his sides as if he's resisting the urge to touch me.

I fold my arms in front of my stomach and stare into his eyes, summoning as much defiance as I can muster. "It seems I have no choice."