“Leah –” he started again but I began to carve into my fried chicken breast and talked over him.
“You just be you, do what you want, live your life like any vamp would. And I’ll be me and do my job, no troubles for you, no expectations of you. Promise.”
I was looking at my plate, surprised, even at myself, that I’d just let go of the game and came clean.
This was a mistake. I should have kept my eyes on him.
“Your job?” he asked in a silky voice I’d never heard him use before. A voice that was beyond scary. So scary, my eyes shot to his face.
It appeared I’d made some kind of mistake. A bad one.
He was angry. Belatedly, I felt his fury had filled the room and I found it hard to breathe.
I also found myself confused. I mean, it was my job being his concubine.
Wasn’t it?
In an effort to calm his anger, I decided to explain.
“I figured it out yesterday, Lucien,” I told him and, seeing as this was slightly embarrassing, my eyes went to a point over his shoulder, before going back to my plate. I put a bite of chicken in my mouth then looked back to him.
He was silent through this, not eating, his elbow on the table, his wineglass in hand, his eyes scorching into me.
I kept going after I swallowed. “I’d been an idiot.” I thought he’d like that but his face didn’t change. “You’ve been very kind to me, generous with me.” I waved my fork around the kitchen in a lame effort to make my point. “I can’t imagine all vamps are like this and, even if they are, it’s not a bad life. I… I…” I stammered, losing my momentum when his face still didn’t change but I found the courage to sally forth. “I’d been wrong. So, yesterday, when I had all that time to think, I decided I’ll do my job servicing you until you’re through with me. No more fights. No more tantrums. I promise.”
He finally broke his silence and said, “Servicing me.”
I nodded.
“Servicing me,” he repeated.
I nodded again, this time more hesitantly.
“Would you care to explain to me, in detail, what you think your job is Leah?”
I didn’t really care to, and anyway, he knew.
Didn’t he?
“You know,” I told him.
“Explain it,” he said.
My head tilted to the side in confusion. “But… I don’t understand. You know.”
He leaned forward a fraction of an inch, his voice dipped dangerously low, and he clipped, “Explain it.”
“I… you, I…” I faltered then recovered, “I’m available for you to feed and… to… um, do other things, whenever you want.” His mouth got tight and I went on, “And, you know, let you show me off, go with you to places and…”
“Stop talking,” he demanded and I snapped my mouth shut.
Something was wrong.
I’d never expected to say any of this to him but I thought the time was right. Cards on the table. He won.
I thought he’d be happy. He won.
Why wasn’t he happy?
Why did he look so… freaking… mad?
“Lucien –” I started but he interrupted me.
“So you think you’re my whore,” he stated and I winced.
I wouldn’t put it that way. I mean, it kind of was that way but even my mind was shying away from that terminology.
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” I said quietly.
“How would you put it? You think you’re here to service me. You think your job is to let me feed from you and fuck you whenever I want. Your job.” He spit out the last word like it tasted foul and he couldn’t bear it in his mouth. “So, how, exactly, would you put it, my pet?”
“I’m your concubine,” I reminded him, thinking that said it all.
I thought this because it did!
He watched me a moment and I watched him back. Mainly I watched his eyes working and I didn’t like the way they were working.
Then his arm moved, it was a blur and nearly instantly his wine glass shattered against the wall. The strength of the throw was so immense, the glass was sand, the liquid in it splashed in a tall, wide mark against the wall.
I stared over my shoulder at the wall. Then I looked at him, mouth hanging open.
“Have you been paying attention,” he growled, hesitated then kept growling, “at all?”
I felt my body start to tremble at the ferocity in his gaze.
“Lucien –” I whispered, unsure what I was going to say but, whatever it was I didn’t get the chance to say it.
“I’ve a mind,” he talked over me, gone was the growl, his voice was back to silky smooth, “to show you what being my whore would mean.”
I had the feeling this was not good.
My heart started beating so fast I could feel my pulse in my neck.
“Yes, sweetheart,” his voice was still silky smooth, “you wouldn’t like it.”
My breath started coming in pants.
He stood, got close and looked down at me. I tilted my head to look up at him.
“For the record, Leah,” he said softly, “I didn’t fuck Kitty last night.” He leaned in and his voice dropped to a whisper. “She wanted it, even begged for it. She begged to touch me, begged for the chance to take me in her mouth, begged me to fuck her.” He leaned in closer, his hand came up, fingers curling around my neck and I saw him hold his body rigid as if he was controlling an impulse and I held my breath. “I was tempted, I’ll admit, but in the end she didn’t smell like you and she didn’t taste like you and she didn’t look like you so I could scarcely bear to feed from her which is all I fucking did.”
Before I knew it, he was gone. Whoosh.
I heard the garage door go up, the Porsche roared to life and then the garage door went back down.
The entire time I sat there, not knowing what to do or how to feel, especially about the fact that he just gave me another weird, but extraordinary, compliment.
What I did know was that I, again, managed to screw things up. Even though I thought I was doing the right thing for myself, for my family, for Lucien even.
What I also knew was that I really, really needed to call my Mom.
Shakily, I got up and left the fried chicken, the pulverized wine glass and that’s exactly what I did.
Chapter Thirteen
The Dream
I finally understood.
As my head lifted, my legs slid open, his hips fell between and my arms wrapped around him tight as if they’d never let go.
And I never wanted to let him go.
Never. Not for eternity.
My mouth sought his ear.
“I understand,” I whispered, the budding beauty of it flowing through me.
Lucien’s tongue swept across the wound where he was feeding.
His head came up, his beautiful eyes boring into mine, his blazing with triumph and searing into me like a brand.
His hands moved to my hips, lifting, his mouth came down on mine in a bruising, possessive kiss and he filled me.
Through his claiming thrusts, my mouth against his, I breathed lovingly, “I’m yours.”
“Leah.”
Hands were on me, my lover’s hands but they weren’t touching me in a loverly way.
“Leah, wake up.”
“Say it again,” Lucien snarled but I’d lost track.
I was so full of him; I’d never been so filled. It was beautiful, so beautiful I started crying.
“Say it again,” he demanded, his hand in my hair pulling my head back, not gently, the pain mingled with the pleasure of his claiming.