But all these fantasies and all these needs might die a miserable death tomorrow because I was about to make her do something she’d probably never forgive me for.
And once it was all over, she’d probably want nothing to do with me.
But even that couldn’t stop me.
Not now.
Not when I was so close to ending it all.
Chapter Fifty
“LUCIEN?” I INCHED MY WAY AROUND HIS door, entering the sprawling quarters that he hardly ever left. “Lucien?” No signs of him as I drifted forward, glancing at all his usual spots. Not on the window seat, in the courtyard, in the wingback by the fireplace—
“You’re late.”
“God, stopdoingthat!” I jumped backward as he popped up from the couch. Pressing a hand to my racing heart, I scowled. “You have got to give me a heads-up from now on.”
“Why should I? When it’s so easy to scare you?” Swinging his legs to the floor from where he’d been reclining, he stood and prowled toward me. “I like having the power to make you react.”
I stilled.
Something about the way he said that hinted he wasn’t talking about making me jump.
My mouth went dry as my body sparked alive.
I’d dreamed about him last night.
Of him touching me when I was actually awake. Of touching him back—
“You’re looking at me again,” he clipped, his tone sharp.
“I am.” I nodded, blatantly drinking my fill.
Black trousers, black shirt, but no black coat today. His thick black hair fell rebelliously over his forehead, his cheekbones stark as if he didn’t have enough to eat or was being eaten alive by pain.
The silver disc glinted through the open neckline of his shirt, making him seem both dangerous and trapped, restrained by a leash and feral because of it.
No one had the right to be that good looking. No one should affect my entire soul just by existing.
“If you’re done,” he muttered. “You have a busy day ahead of you.”
“I do?”
He nodded.
“You know...working me so hard might make me sick.” I did my best to stop being so infatuated by him. “And then where will you be? You’ll have to look after me instead ofmelooking afteryou.”
“You want me to lookafteryou?”
My hackles rose at how offensive he seemed to find that thought. “Calm down. I’m not asking you to be responsible for me.”
“Responsible for you.” He scowled and leaned forward. “You do know what a loaded phrase that is in my culture, right?”
“No.” I swallowed hard. “What does it mean?”
He smirked just a little. “Asking me to be responsible for you is as blatant as offering yourself to me...for life.”
“I-It is?”
