He pushed her orgasm further with his thumb. Her fingers circled his wrist in protest then imprisoned it as she drew in another breath and the shudder tore through her.
He ceased his movements, cupping her breast in one hand, stopping his thumb but allowing himself to keep his fingers inside her with the other. She trembled once, again, then again, before she stilled, spent, her body leaning heavily against his.
He held her close, his face in the hair at the back of her head, listening to her racing heart as it settled and breathing her scent, letting it consume his senses.
After a while, his hand left her breast and curled around her stomach, pulling her closer as his fingers slowly slid out of her and he cupped her between her legs.
He lifted his head and touched his lips to the now-pink wound.
“How are you feeling, pet?” he murmured there.
She didn’t move or speak.
He lifted his head to look at her profile. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted slightly forward.
“Leah? Are you asleep?”
When she spoke, she didn’t open her eyes and her voice was both very quiet and completely dead.
“You did that to me and I can smell her perfume on your skin.” His body froze and she kept talking. “And when you kissed me, I could taste her blood in my mouth.”
“Leah –”
She cut him off. “You forced me out of my home and my life. You’ve made me leave my friends and my job. During my initiation you caused me more pain than I’ve ever felt in my life. You’ve controlled my mind and my body. You’ve humiliated me. Today, you betrayed my trust. Tonight, you betrayed me.”
“Leah –”
“You win,” she whispered in her dead voice. “I can’t fight you, Lucien. You win.”
Remembering his oath to be patient with her, he rolled her to her back and got up on an elbow to get a better look at her.
“You don’t understand the way of my people, pet –”
He stopped speaking when she closed her eyes slowly in a gesture of defeat that seemed foul when done by Leah.
“Please give me one thing. Just one.” She opened her eyes and he was alarmed to see they were dead too. “Don’t call me pet and please, never, ever again call me sweetheart.”
“Leah –”
“May I go back to sleep?” she asked with genuine, not false, consideration.
In spite of his earlier vow, his temper was rising and with it the feeling he’d had when he saw her discarded lingerie.
“Leah, I’m within my rights to attend A Feast.”
She turned her head and looked over his shoulder. “I know you are. Of course you are,” she said wearily. “You’re within your rights to do anything.”
He decided to try a different tactic and his hand moved to cup her jaw.
Gently, he said, “I wanted to give you something tonight, sweetheart.”
When he uttered his endearment, she winced, her head jerking as if he’d struck her.
At this reaction, the strange, vile feeling was overtaking his temper and he didn’t like it. It felt like pain. Twisting, burning pain and it was magnifying quickly.
He lost hold of his patience but held tight to the anger. If he didn’t the pain would begin to be unbearable.
“Leah, goddamn it, look at me.”
Without hesitation she did.
“We need to talk about this,” he went on.
She shook her head and asked, “Why? I promise to be good, do as you say. Anything you want, I’ll do I. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
No, it wasn’t what he fucking wanted.
He wanted her trust, her acceptance of his power, his dominance, not to wield it against her, but to use it to keep her safe, protected, nurtured, thriving.
“You don’t understand,” he told her.
“Do you want me to understand?” she asked.
“Yes, I fucking do.”
Her eyes locked on his, hers were still lifeless. “Then of course I’ll listen. Whatever you want, Lucien.”
Blinding rage wrenched through him. At that moment, he didn’t know if he was furious at Leah or himself. This mingled with the bizarre, twisting pain and it took every effort not tear the room apart.
He watched her waiting expectantly and pulled in breath through his nose.
He knew he didn’t have the control to deal with this tonight. He needed to seek calm and deal with this rationally not when he wanted to throw the lounge through the window.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
She nodded and asked, “Do you mind if I go back to sleep?”
He drew another breath into his nostrils, attempting to keep a tight rein on his temper, which, fortunately worked.
“You don’t have to ask me to sleep.”
She nodded again, whispered, “Okay,” then rolled to her side, tucking her hands under her cheek again and closing her eyes. “Goodnight, Lucien,” she told her pillow.
His hold on his temper slipped and he growled. Her eyes snapped open and her head started to twist to look at him but he buried his face in her neck as his arms wrapped tight around her.
“You undo me, pet,” he muttered there, seeking solace in her warm, soft body, anything that might subdue that twisting pain.
He felt her grow still before she relaxed then, softly, she admitted, “I don’t know if I can redo you.”
Her words were so absurd, in spite of his anger, his smiled into her neck.
She kept talking. “But I think to redo you, I’d have to figure out how to redo me and that ship has finally sailed.”
His smile died and her head tilted forward, not to refuse him access to her neck but settling into sleep.
“It’s for the best,” she whispered as he lifted his head to watch her tired face. “I was always driving everyone crazy with my personality defects. Aunt Kate’s going to be thrilled.”
Her words made the burning pain intensify considerably.
“Leah, stop talking,” Lucien ordered.
“Okay,” she said then her eyes flew open and to the side and she said, “That’s speaking. Sorry. No, I mean… sorry!” Then she pressed her lips together and turned her face into the pillow.
Lucien didn’t know whether to laugh or to shout.
What he did know was that Kitty was a very bad idea.
He settled behind her, pulling her deeper into his body, something she didn’t resist, and pressing his face into her thick, soft hair.
He had thought Leah had been broken before and he’d been wrong. He took in a deep breath deciding that he’d see what tomorrow might bring.
When he knew she was asleep, he carefully pulled away so as not to wake her and took a shower.
Chapter Twelve
The Understanding
I woke up and pretty much saw nothing but the wide expanse of Lucien’s smooth, defined chest. This was because my cheek was resting against his pectoral. How I slept cuddled up to him like that, I’d never know. I wasn’t a cuddling type of girl.
Memories of the night before and yesterday flooded my brain but, regardless of the pain or maybe because of it, automatically I shifted closer to his hard warmth.
Yesterday, after taking a very long, very cold shower and then just barely stopping myself from breaking everything breakable I could find, I’d found myself in a huge rambling house with nothing to do. I’d finished the only book I’d brought with me. There was no company. No phone. No car keys. No books. No internet. No cleaning to do. No dirty laundry. No ironing.
Nothing.
I realized too late I should have asked Edwina to buy a few magazines. I only had the television and my thoughts and I didn’t want to spend time with either of them.
I avoided the television as I’d found, over the years (with vast amounts of experience) that there was rarely anything on. Plus I usually ate like a pothead with the munchies when I sat in front of the TV, so I made the decision to take a walk.