Because today was the day.
By tonight, I would be free...or dead.
And the very execution of my breakout relied entirely on the very woman who’d just scrambled my heart, set fire to my blood, and blown apart my very existence.
All those rules of never going near a girl still stood.
All my promises that I would die a virgin—so I never ran the risk of cursing another like me, remained.
And yet...
If I managed to get out tonight.
If I somehow won after twenty years of slavery?
Well then...
My reward would be her.
As often as she’d have me.
Chapter Fifty-Two
“ARE YOU FEELING OKAY?” I WHISPERED, unhooking the last blood bag from his cuffed wrist and sticking the printed barcode onto it.
I really hadn’t the mental capacity to deal with bleeding him today.
Not after what happened between us.
Not after what wedid.
But it seemed as if I was the only one still utterly drunk on need because Lucien had returned to being cold and callous.
There was something about him that set my teeth on edge. A level of tension that hadn’t been there before.
“I’m fine.” Resting his head against the recliner beside the computers that’d already sent notice that a fresh batch of Ashfall blood was ready to collect, he sighed heavily. Blue painted his lips again and exhaustion muted him, making my heart flutter.
Resting the back of my hand on his forehead, I cursed the contradiction of him.
His eyes flew wide, locking onto mine. “What are you doing?”
I couldn’t look away, even as I dropped my hand.
His lips might be blue, but his skin was fiery.
His face looked almost corpse-like in the harsh lighting, but there was an undercurrent too. Something that made him seem more alive, more dangerous than ever before.
“Well?” he demanded.
“I was checking you don’t have a temperature. You look like you’re coming down with something.”
“What could I possibly be coming down with?” He smiled tightly. “No viruses exist in here and no one gets close to me but you.”
My stomach clenched, ridiculously pleased that I was the only one to touch him, pleasure him.
“Bleeding yourself every three days isn’t sustainable. It’s killing you—”
“You’re calling me weak?” His energy went sharp, daring me to call him out on his suffering.
