Squeezing the back of his nape, he sucked in a breath as if to speak then just shook his head and prowled off.
I watched him go, unable to take my eyes off his lean, lethal body. At some point, he’d donned his coat. Unbuttoned, it flared around his legs like black wings, snapping at the furniture as he moved past.
Disappearing into the kitchen, he returned a moment later with something in his left hand.
Whisper jumped down from the couch where he’d been napping all afternoon. Yawning and revealing glistening ivory teeth, he grunted and headbutted Lucien’s hip as he moved past the dopey jungle cat.
Lucien’s lips flicked into a smile before he smothered it with another scowl.
Marching barefoot back to me, he held out his hand. “Here.”
Whisper trailed him, looking between both of us as if trying to understand where the sudden tension had come from.
I narrowed my eyes and made no move to take whatever Lucien wanted to give me.
Exhaling heavily, he grabbed my wrist and shoved the earthen jar into my palm. “Your reward for surviving such gruelling labour.”
My skin sparked and warmed beneath his hold, greedy for touch even if it was from him. Letting me go, he rubbed his fingers as if he’d felt the same tingle then shoved both hands behind his back.
Running a finger over the label, I whispered, “Pear-blossom wine?”
“You smelled of it when you—” He cleared his throat and looked away. “When you helped me the other night.”
My nipples pebbled, remembering the icy shock of wine soaking into my shirt as Whisper knocked me down and dragged me into Lucien’s bedroom.
“I assumed you liked it,” he added softly.
“You assumed correctly.”
He nodded stiffly as if this was the first time he’d ever given something to someone that wasn’t a grave. “Good. Then take it.”
I fumbled for something to say. To ask why he’d rewarded me, but all I could think about was how he’d looked that night in his room. How pain etched his skin, and agony drenched him in sweat. How he’d burned and groaned and clutched me as if I was the only thing keeping him alive.
My skipping heart forgot entirely how to beat as my gaze tangled with his, drifting down his throat to lock onto the black shirt hiding the silver disc embedded in his chest. “Do you feel pain like that often?”
He bared his teeth. “Why? Next time will you try to kill me instead of help me?”
“Your lack of trust that I’m not here to kill you is getting old.”
“You’re annoyed at me for protecting myself?”
“I’m annoyed at your paranoia.”
Anger flared in his eyes. “Is it paranoia when everyone proves me right?”
I sucked in a breath.
How would that feel? Living in a world where everyone he’d ever known had betrayed him?
My heart hurt and I deliberately changed the subject. “How did I help you?”
He braced himself as if the question stabbed right in his vulnerability. His jaw worked as if he contemplated refusing to answer but then he admitted, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
He shook his head. For a second, it looked like he’d say something else—to give me the answers I was desperate for—but he coughed and cut around me. His voice sailed like snow over his shoulder. “Leave.”
The word landed heavy and final.
