Lucien shifted a little, pressing all of himself against all of me.
I stiffened as I became highly aware ofallthe places where we were joined.
A low, rough sound left him, heavy with relief. His arms unbanded around me, letting my back rest far more comfortably on the bed. One of his hands slid up my side, his fingers splaying over my ribs.
He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding against mine. When he exhaled, it wasn’t a broken gasp but a long, shaky sigh. Hisbody softened, melting against me until he was heavy instead of tense, calm instead of burning.
I closed my eyes as his fingers strayed to my waist. His heart still thundered, but the jagged edge finally smoothed. The medical scent of his fever began to fade, replaced by the faint, bitter flavour of blood.
Tilting his head, his lips moved against my throat—not a kiss, just a slow exhale as his hand slipped from my waist and pressed against the mattress.
I expected him to push upright. To break our overwhelming embrace. But...
His breath ghosted over my throat again, slower this time. Hotter.
The world shrank to the weight of him above me, the burning closeness, the tension that cut sharper than a knife.
In a single breath, he made me ache and ache andache.
I couldn’t move.
Didn’t want to break the spell or face the repercussions.
His head lifted, skimming his nose along my neck, my jaw...
The air between us throbbed.
The silver disc over his heart pressed against me with warning.
He shifted closer, his hips sinking deeper between my legs as his mouth hovered over mine.
My eyes popped wide, trying to see if he knew what he was doing, knew how close he was to—
Our lips brushed.
He.
Froze.
His eyes flew wide and whatever trance he’d been in shattered. He jerked off me so violently, the silver metal on his chest flared with a red light beneath his shirt.
Snarling, he crashed onto his back beside me, grunting in pain.
And I did what any crazy, almost-kissed captive would do.
I rolled over and burrowed my face into his damp, hot neck. I hugged him as if I could protect him. And incredibly, he didn’t fling me off.
His hand that clutched his heart clutched my arm that I threw over his chest instead. His fingers bruised me as he held on, but just like before...he slowly calmed as if Ididhave the power to help. As if my presence affected him, just like his presence affected me.
Whisper snorted and paced the edge of the bed, grumbling with worry.
Not daring to move, I whispered, “It’s okay, Whisper. He’s okay.”
With a soft chuff, the cat accepted my assurance, yawned, and flopped down.
Stillness crept over us. Silence eased into the cracks. But Lucien didn’t move which meantIdidn’t move.
I lost track of time before Lucien finally exhaled and tapped my arm to release him.
