“Believe what exactly?”
“I’m not here to kill you and I’m not here to get impregnated by you.”
His face turned unreadable. “Then what do you want?”
Finally.
A crack.
The smallest, tiniest crack.
“Honestly?” I began to tremble, little white spots fireworking in my vision. “I just...” I looked down at the glass; at the way my fingers quaked around it. Forcing myself to meet his eyes again, I said, “I just want to make our days here a little easier. We’re stuck together and won’t be getting out anytime soon, so...the outside world doesn’t exist right now. It’s just us. And...I’m willing to make it better.”
Shock flared in his gaze as if I’d slapped him. “Better?”
I nodded.
“How exactly?” He studied me warily.
I swallowed, my pulse hammering. “Maybe by trusting each other a little? By not being so suspicious all the time?”
His shoulders turned rigid.
I kept talking so I didn’t lose my courage or hear how crazy I sounded. “I doubt you’ve been touched in a very long time—especially without someone taking something from you.” My voice softened. “We might not share the same pain, but I know you hurt. And I’m willing to try to help you not hurt.”
His eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t hide the quickest flicker across his face that looked like a starving animal being offered sustenance before his frosty mask slammed back into place. “What exactly are you proposing?”
God, I have no idea.
I laughed under my breath, my system jittery and slightly nauseous. “Oh, I don’t know? I’m making this up as I go along. How about a massage?”
“A what?”
Rook! Are you insane?!
I just kept digging my own grave.
I should’ve left.
Should’ve run far, far away—
“If this is a trick to get me naked.” Every part of him drew up and shut down. “You won’t like what will happen—”
“It’s not!” I dashed toward him but then skidded to a stop as he backed up. Ugh, this was going so badly.
Throwing the rest of the wine down my throat, I slammed the glass next to the untouched dinner and had no choice but to double down on this ridiculous, suicidal idea. “Whenever my head hurts and nothing helps, I find...” I sighed heavily, already knowing he’d reject me. “I find a massage really helps.” I touched my temples. “The pressure points here really do work.”
He didn’t speak for an eternity.
Already, I heard his refusal, most likely followed by a savage reprimand.
Never taking his eyes off me, he finished the wine, placed the empty glass on the sideboard and pressed his fingers against the silver disc implanted in his chest. “I’ve already told you that just being in your company seems to soothe the constant burning I feel.”
The fact that he hadn’t left. Or kicked me out. Or refused to talk.
I froze in absolute shock.
“How?” I asked softly. “How do I help? If you tell me...I could do more of it.”
“No idea.” His hand dropped as he studied me as fiercely as a hunter. I felt him deep inside me, ransacking my mind and heart. Thoughts scattered over his face before he drew his shoulders back and gave me a reprieve. “Fine.”
“Fine?” I blinked.
“I’ll try.”
“You’ll try?”
His eyes tightened as his temper sparked. “Are you taking back your offer?”
“Wait...” Comprehension finally caught up. “You’re...agreeing? You actually want me to massage you?”
His lips twitched as if my shock entertained him. “I might be sheltered from the outside world but I’m fairly sure you won’t get pregnant just by touching me.”
A nervous laugh escaped. “Not the last time I checked.”
“Okay then.” He pushed off the doorframe and stalked into the living room.
I couldn’t move.
He looked at me over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”
Nervousness exploded through my blood, making me sway on the spot.
Don’t you dare pass out now.
I’d suggested this, yet never in a million years did I think he’d agree, but...I couldn’t back down now, could I?
Maybe this was a test?
A test to see if I would try to seduce him, after all? Yet another attempt to force me to admit all my secrets?
I slouched as my heart hammered. I would have to touch him. I would have to willingly get close to him, all while he waited for me to show my true intentions, merely to prove he was right to hate me all along.
I needed more wine.
“Are you going to get this over with or are you planning on camping in my kitchen?” Lucien’s voice sailed, cold and curt from where he sat on the couch.
My head pounded. If I made it through massaging him without passing out, it would be a miracle.
“Coming...” I choked.
Every step cost me as I made my way into the cavernous yet somehow cosy living room with all the mismatched lamps and lanterns keeping the shadows at bay. I could imagine in winter, when the fireplace roared, it would be extremely toasty and romantic.
Ugh, will you stop?
There is no romance.
None.
Don’t even think about it.
Drifting to a stop in front of him, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
With his legs spread and coat missing, he looked like a heartless king on his throne.
I swallowed to lubricate my suddenly dry throat. Whisper padded past and vanished through the open door to the courtyard. “Eh...how do you want it?”
“Want it?” His eyes tightened, even as the corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t know. I’ve never had it before.”
His wary guardedness was genuine, yet I had the sneaking suspicion he was playing with me.
“Well...” My voice came out a little high. “I usually just like head massages when I’m suffering a migraine but you...if you tell me where you hurt the most, I can try and...” I couldn’t finish, my gaze becoming traitorous and drifting down his body.
His hand came up, tapping the silver plate over his heart, the metal clinking beneath his shirt. “This is what hurts the most. Think you can help with that?”
I flinched, wishing I had a medical degree so I could make his request come true. “Unfortunately, I’m not skilled in removing whatever pacemaker-type torture device you have.”
His eyes flared before settling back into that cold merciless glint that’d become so familiar. “Alright then. I’ll trust you to show me what’s so great about letting another person touch me.” His jaw clenched. “But if you’re doing all of this for my blood, then it would be better just to mop the floor.”
“I’m not.”
“I’m also never going to sleep with you.”
“Like I said, never is a very long time—”
“It is. And I mean it.”
“One day, you’ll believe me that I’m not trying to seduce you.”
“Doubt it.”
“I’m also not looking for compensation with your blood. I’ve endured this pain for over seven years. I don’t need you to save me.”
“Then why bother being nice to me? Why even offer to do this?”