Neither of us were experienced enough to know what the hell was going on or how to stop it.
At least panic did it for me.
Wrenching my arm out of his hold, I scrambled to my feet. Water splashed off my dressing gown as I wrapped my arms around my middle and squeezed, my bones jangling with cold. “I’ll...I’ll g-get changed and we’ll d-do something together? Okay?”
I didn’t wait for him to reply.
Bolting to the changing rooms, I prayed I wouldn’t slip and pretended I didn’t hear him mutter to Whisper: “That girl is ten times worse than the drugs in my veins. What the hell am I supposed to do with her?”
The panther didn’t reply.
Chapter Forty-Two
“WHY THE HELL DID YOU DRAG me here?” Lucien muttered as we came to a stop outside a door in a part of the palace I doubted he’d explored in years—judging by the amount of dust I’d found when I’d cleaned.
I had a sneaky suspicion that I knew his home better than he did now—thanks to the past five weeks of snooping, hoovering, dusting, and mopping. He didn’t venture out of his sprawling quarters—quarantining himself as if forsaking the world, just like it had forsaken him.
“You’ll see.” Pushing open the door, I stepped aside for him to enter. Whisper streaked from nowhere, slipping inside without an invitation.
When I’d first stumbled on this room a couple of weeks ago, I’d thought it was some sort of odd torture chamber. A tomb with no windows, one door, and a single chair beneath a domed white ceiling. I’d never seen anything like it, and it wasn’t until I’d been dusting the control panel, tucked behind a booth by the wall, that I’d accidentally pressed a button and it all suddenly made sense.
“I want to go to bed,” he grumbled but went inside anyway, his black coat whipping behind him, cloaking his black trousers and shirt.
He’d dressed when I had, but unlike him wearing actual clothes, I wore the only thing I’d found in the changing room—the thickest, cosiest white robe that was miles too big for me. The hood hung down my back, the sleeves swallowed my hands, and the hem drowned my feet. I probably looked ridiculous, but my God, I was toasty beneath the fluffy wonderful fleece.
Following him, I closed the door and flicked the switch.
A single lamp by the control panel sprang to life, granting enough illumination to spy the single recliner right beneath the apex of the dome. “Go sit over there.”
He turned to glower at me. “Why? What are you up to?”
“The fact that you’re asking means you don’t know what this room does, do you?”
“I’ve lived here twenty years. Do you honestly think I don’t know every inch of this cage?”
“Just sit.”
His hands balled. “You’re really starting to get on my nerves.”
I grinned. “Do as you’re told. You can scold me after.”
His gaze shot to the door and my heart stopped as he swayed to leave. But with a huff, he obeyed and reluctantly made his way to the recliner. His bare feet made no noise on the thick black carpet, the white domed ceiling falling to meet it, giving the impression we existed in the middle of a sphere.
Whisper went to sit by the chair, his ebony pelt making him become one with the floor.
“I don’t like surprises,” Lucien warned as he sat down, arranged his coat to cover his legs, and gripped the armrests. He winced a little as he reclined—the cut on his shoulder pressing against the chair.
I hoped he’d at least put a bandage on it because he hadn’t allowed me to tend to him.
“You don’t like anything,” I muttered, heading toward the control panel.
He glowered at me.
I smiled. “Which is completely understandable and not at all your fault.”
His growl was soft but threatening. “You have two minutes before I’m leaving.”
Tapping the master button to wake everything up, I thanked my past of working in a high-tech company like Snowflake Corp and regularly playing with projector screens when I should’ve been studying. I might not be good around people or feelings, but technology was different. It wasn’t messy or complicated but logical and didn’t stress me out.
