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?”
“Wantit?” His eyes tightened, even as the corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t know. I’ve never haditbefore.”
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’lltrustyou 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?”
I sighed, frustrated but also full of pity. How awful had his upbringing been that he’d never learned to relax aroundanother person? Never understood that people did things for one another without needing to be rewarded?
“Can’t I do something without needing something in return?” I asked gently.
“No.” He frowned, his hands fisting the couch cushions on either side of his thighs. “There’s always a catch.Always.”
