6. Lucien

Chapter 6

Lucien

S he is in my house. Luna. She is here.

It is the longest I have ever spent in her presence. When I visited the bookshop, our conversations were fleeting. When I watched her, I never allowed myself to watch for too long.

And now she is here.

Now I know what it is like to touch her, to be so close I can feel the pulse in her neck and the warmth of her breath. Close enough to see the way her cheeks pink when she looks at me, the way her eyes darted down my body and the way she immediately looked away. Embarrassed. Confused.

I am confused, too.

I told myself I brought her here for her protection, but as we walk through the mansion and she follows close behind me, her feet making gentle tapping sounds on the hard floor, I wonder whether that is true.

My gut tells me the vampires in the shop weren't a coincidence. That she wasn't a random choice of victim on their quest for blood. But is that because I want to believe she needs me?

I resist the urge to glance over my shoulder at her, even though it already feels like too many seconds have gone by since I drank in her soft features, and her pale hair, and her glistening blue eyes.

"Here." We arrive at the guest room which sits closest to my own. I push open the door and stand back so she can enter. "There are toiletries in the bathroom." I gesture to the ensuite.

She raises an eyebrow at me.

Fuck, she looks delicious when she does that. I'm not sure if it's because of the way it makes her eyes widen or because she has the nerve to chastise me with just a glance, but I can't get enough of it.

She nudges the bathroom door open and takes in the toothbrush, the women's razor, and the coconut shampoo. Her shampoo. The one she uses to make her hair smell so good I want to bury myself in the scent of it.

"Did you know you were going to bring me here tonight?" she asks, folding her arms in front of her stomach.

I hate it when she does that; as if she's trying to hide the most delicious parts of herself. I want to tug her arms down by her sides and demand she never does it again.

But I can't do that.

Not yet.

Not until she is mine.

In that moment – that exact moment – I realize that no matter what the circumstances that brought her here, this is what I've always wanted since the moment I first saw her.

To make her mine.

"No, I did not." I lean past her and tug the bathroom door closed. I feel her breath hitch as my body moves closer to her.

"Then you have a lot of female guests staying here?" she asks.

"No, I do not." I lean on the doorframe, arm positioned above her so she is sheltered beneath it.

Now, she lowers her arms. She drops them to her sides and grips the frame. Her pelvis tilts toward me. She doesn't even know she's doing it, but her body tells me things she does not.

"Who was the queen?"

The question catches me off guard. I was lost in the vibration of heat between us, but now I stand back, lace my fingers behind my back and pace away from her.

"That doesn't concern you." I don't look back. I stand in the doorway, facing the dark hallway instead of her brightness.

"I think it does. I think it has to do with why I'm here."

"It is a business matter." I wrap my fingers around the handle. "And something you are best staying away from."

I wait a beat longer than I should. Curious to see whether she will challenge me more. But then I feel her sigh. Her energy shifts. I hear her sit down on the edge of the bed. Is she resting her head in her hands? Is she rubbing her aching back?

"Get some rest, Luna. We will talk tomorrow."

I close the door and take a key from the hook on the wall beside it.

Then I lock her in.

It takes me only a few seconds to reach my office. Moving at speed isn't something I like to do unless there is true urgency, but knowing Luna is here, locked in my house, is doing something to the instincts I usually keep under control.

I feel like I've consumed some particularly powerful blood, and yet I have drunk nothing all day. My muscles are tight and alert. I want to run, jump, climb. Use the power that I restrain and keep buried.

I want to feed.

It has been months since I fed on a human. Occasionally, I have my men bring me a donor. Never females, always males. I make them sit in the armchair by the fireplace in my office, and I feed from their neck. Standing behind them. I slide my hands down their chest, beneath their shirt. I feel their breathing change as I drink, their pulse quickens, and their blood becomes more acidic as the adrenaline in their body starts to run riot.

I take them to the brink. To the point where they think I might be about to end them for good.

And then I let them go.

I have often wondered whether it is my way of proving to myself I still have control. That the reason I am so powerful, and can command this godforsaken city, is because I am better than the rest of the vampires who live here.

I don't need the rush of a feeding session.

I can live without it.

I can fight the animal inside me.

I can control the demon.

Right now, though? For the first time in a long time, I think I would struggle to control myself if a thick, throbbing vein was offered to me.

I slam the office door closed, open up the computer and reach for the flask in my desk drawer. The good stuff. Aged but not fermented; I do not do drugs. Never have. And I don't know a single vampire who takes Fermented Human Blood who has kept hold of their sanity.

I take a long, thirsty drink.

The crimson liquid coats my teeth, and gums, and slides exquisitely down my throat.

I sit down at the desk and type in my password. The bank of hidden cameras appears on screen. Twenty of them. I navigate past the bookshop and the streets surrounding it. I move past the cameras positioned outside Luna's house, and the ones that line her journey to work. I keep going until I find the one I'm looking for.

The one that shows her sitting on the edge of the large four-poster bed in my bedroom.

In my house.

I sigh and lean back in my chair, relief flooding through me, chasing the thrill of her blood.

She is safe.

I have her.

She is safe.

When she stands and begins to pace back and forth, bracing her hands on her lower back, I force myself to close the feed and instead open up the recordings from the past twenty-four hours.

The bookshop. I need to see what happened when she opened the box.

The glow of the monitor casts eerie shadows across my face as I lean in, captivated by Luna's movements. My eyes, far sharper than a human's, catch every subtle shift in her expression as she sets the box down on the countertop.

As she traces the carvings on the lid, I frown and lean closer.

I hit pause, skip back a few seconds, then play it again.

Fuck.

I was right.

She is staring at the box, her breath is quickening, and all around her… the shadows that live in the crevices between the bookshelves, and beneath the desk, and in the hidden corners of the room, seem to respond to her touch.

She does not see them, but I do.

They stretch and curl in ways that defy natural light.

My breath catches. I have suspected it for so long… but I thought I was confusing my obsession with reality.

I thought I had come to believe she was special because I found her so irresistible.

But what if I was right?

When Luna finally opens the box, the room around her darkens, as if the very night is drawn to her presence. The shadows coalesce, forming a velvety cocoon around her. It's subtle, almost imperceptible to mortal eyes, but to me, it's unmistakable.

I watch, mesmerized, as she examines the contents of the box. Her hands are steady now. There's a strength in her movements that I've longed to see. The same strength that shimmered on her skin when she watched the video of her tormentor being tormented.

It makes my heart swell with pride.

Oh, how I wish she could see how strong she is.

The moment she realizes what — who — the parts belong to, I lick my lips. Will this be the catalyst? The shadows pulse. A laugh bubbles up from her chest – a sound of relief, of liberation.

My cold heart swells with affection. She understands. She sees the gift for what it is – freedom from the man who made her life a living death.

As she lifts out Steven's tongue, the shadows grow denser, absorbing the flickering light of the bookshop. They move with purpose now, as if Luna's emotions are giving them form and direction. It is breathtaking to behold.

But then she looks up. The door opens.

I pause again and skip back. This time, I pay attention to the window and try to see past the shopfront into the street.

A figure moves into view.

More than one.

They were watching her.

I skip back further, to before the box arrived.

Luna moves slowly around the shop, cleaning up, getting ready to close. I try not to watch her and focus on the window instead.

There, the same figure.

They were watching her before the box was delivered. Which means they were not drawn to her by the scent of Steven's blood.

I clench my fist and slam it so hard onto the desk that it leaves a large imprint in the shape of my knuckles.

"Fuck…"

For the first time in my many centuries on earth, I did not want to be right.

I grab my phone and raise it to my ear. It rings twice then… "Kim?"

The only human I trust, apart from Luna, answers with sleep in his voice and irritation in his breath. "The fuck time do you call this, Lucien? We had a deal. No more night jobs. I'm your daytime guy. You have your vampire henchmen for nighttime."

"I need you for this."

I picture him putting on his glasses and pinching his nose, his stupidly floppy hair falling over his eyes. "For what?"

"Just get here. Now. It's nearly morning."

"For what Lucien?"

My jaw tics. "It's about the Covenant."

There is a long pause. Kim's breathing changes, and when he speaks again his tone is more urgent. "I'll be there as soon as I can."