Assembly: The Feral Souls Trilogy - Book 2

by Woods, Erica

  “What the ever-loving hell?”

  Short, black hair—the only thing about Lucien that wasn’t always impeccably in place—framed a beautifully angry face as he leaned over me from where he was standing next to the couch. “What the devil are you doing?”

  Pulse pounding in my neck, I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath.

  He’s not gonna hurt you, he’s not gonna hurt you, repeated over and over in my head like a mantra. I knew Lucien wouldn’t physically harm me—at least I hoped so—but his sudden movement coupled with the sheer surprise of seeing him lean in to touch me had old instincts kick in.

  “S-sorry,” I whispered when I could finally draw a breath. “I . . . I lost my balance.”

  His upper lip curled and his nostrils flared. “Yes, you did. But that was not all that happened, was it m—” He stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing. “Was it, female?”

  “I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Lucien stared at me a minute longer before coming to some sort of conclusion. “Very well.” He walked back to the other side of the table and sat down. “Finish your food. We will talk after.”

  Slowly, afraid I’d provoke him into more strange behavior if I moved too fast, I sat back up and stared down at the food. The pleasant smell and the memory of its exquisite taste did nothing to stir my appetite. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You must eat regardless,” came his inflexible reply.

  Arguing would be useless. I scooped more of the lasagna onto my fork and took another bite.

  I might as well have been eating dirt.

  The flavor didn’t register, but I forced myself to chew and swallow, all the while trying to squash the urge to squirm under Lucien’s heavy gaze.

  I could feel his eyes on me.

  My skin was alive with chattering nerves as the heat from his scrutiny trailed across my body. I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, and again I asked myself what on earth he wanted.

  Why now? Why did he want to be friends all of a sudden?

  My arm rose slower with each bite, the food a dense lump in my stomach. My earlier tension returned tenfold, and suddenly I couldn’t sit still.

  I jumped off the couch, a startled, high-pitched sound leaving my throat when Lucien exploded from his seat, his form nothing more than a blur as he placed himself between me and the front door.

  “What is it?” he hissed, knees slightly bent—ready to attack.

  “Oh, I just . . . I needed to move.”

  Moving too slow, a stiffness in his neck, shoulders, back, he turned. “You needed to move?”

  I was starting to resent the way his eyes narrowed when he thought I was being an idiot. Trying to tell myself it made him look stupid didn’t help. No matter what expression Lucien wore, he never managed to look less than utterly gorgeous.

  I must look like garbage next to him.

  “Out,” I blurted, thoughts in chaos. My skin prickled and restless energy kept me from standing still. Lucien’s gaze followed my squirming legs down to my feet, where I kept shifting my weight.

  “And what does, out, mean?”

  I flushed. “I mean . . . could we go out? Get some air?”

  It was getting harder to breathe. The air seemed too thin in here, too used up. I forced my lungs to expand, gulping down mouthfuls of oxygen, but with each swallow, my chest grew tighter. Everything in me screamed to go outside, to find trees and hills and grass, and just run and run and run until my legs were too weak to carry me and I could collapse in a heap on the cool damp ground.

  “No.” One word, hard and unyielding.

  “Please!”

  Lucien stared at me. A calculating gleam entered his eyes, and suddenly they didn’t seem so cold. There was no inviting warmth in their depths, no safe haven to curl up in, but something in them had thawed. “I will allow it. On one condition.”

  “Name it!” I held what little breath I had, prepared to offer him almost anything should he let me out. I couldn’t control this wild energy pulsing through me, the strange power I felt moving my limbs and making me unable to stay still.

  “You have to forget our little misunderstanding from this morning and”—a hardness crept over him, carved twin lines between his brows and flattened his lips—“be my friend.”

  Every muscle in my body froze. “Our misunderstanding?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it a misunderstanding when you basically told me I was whoring myself out so Ruarc and Jason would protect me?”

  Lucien blanched. “I never said that.”

  “Then what did you say?” It wasn’t like me to be this forward, this confrontational. As soon as the words left my mouth I wished them back. I didn’t want to fight. I was bone tired, worrying about my relationship with Ruarc and Jason and wondering if I was strong enough to go behind their backs to the Council like I should, and at the same time, I was being pulled apart by this terrible, fretful energy roaring through my body like a bull on steroids.

  After looking anywhere but at me, a short burst of air hissed between Lucien’s clenched teeth, and his expression darkened. “It does not matter. It does not,” he reiterated with a firm look when I opened my mouth to tell him just how much it had mattered to me. Squaring his shoulders, he loomed above me. “Do we have a deal or not?”

  It burned. Swallowing my pride and putting his callous words from my mind physically burned. My stomach clenched, but I ignored it and caught my angry cries before they could leave my throat. “Deal,” I forced out, wondering where the old me had gone. The person who hardly ever got angry and preferred to shrink away rather than stand tall and hold her ground.

  I wasn’t so sure I liked the person I was becoming, but I hadn’t exactly been a fan of the old me either.

  The sardonic smile spreading across Lucien’s full lips was gone so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it. When he simply gestured at me to proceed him to the door, I rose and gave him a suspicious look.

  Could Lucien be one of the reasons why I’d found my courage? I knew Ruarc’s protectiveness and Jason’s playfulness had helped me open up, but could Lucien’s pointed suspicion and occasional cruelty have helped me toughen up? Or was it just that no matter how mean he was to me, he never actually tried to hurt me?

  I shuddered.

  The very idea that Lucien could have helped me grow in any way was stupid. Ridiculous.

  A lie.

  But then why, when it flashed through my mind, did it carry a ring of truth?

  * * *

  Instead of calming me, being outside had the opposite effect. After Lucien led me around to the back of the cabin and on to a small, winding path through the dense forest, the power thrumming through my body took on a life of its own.

  Everything prickled. It was the same feeling as the one I got when blood worked its way back through a deadened limb. It usually happened after I’d been tied down for too long, kept in the same, uncomfortable position for hours. The prickling—like tiny little needles—hurt, but it was a hurt I could handle because it meant my limbs were finally waking up.

  And that was how this felt. Like waking up.

  The air seemed crisper—charged with a promise of what was to come—and I heard and smelled things that were completely unfamiliar. Like the faint sound of a bird’s foot scraping against his branch and the vague scent of delicious rabbit teasing my nostrils.

  Delicious? I couldn’t eat Thumper!

  Appalled, I glanced over at Lucien—he’d been quiet since we left the house—and was enraptured by the peaceful look on his face. I’d never seen him so at ease. Instead of being pressed in a thin line, his lips were relaxed. Not smiling, but not frowning either. It made me able to appreciate the fullness of his bottom lip, the only soft line in a face carved from unblemished marble. His eyes were watchful, but not cold and distant. Instead, they roamed across the spaces between each tree like he was simply making sure we were alone.

  Safe.<
br />
  “What’s on your mind, female?”

  Female . . . What did he have against my name? “Nothing. Just taking it all in.” I drew another deep breath, lungs thrilling at the fresh air.

  The sound he made next was kind of like a grunt. Almost Ruarc-like, but more sophisticated. If a grunt could ever be called sophisticated.

  “What is the point of the Assembly?” I asked, wanting to take my mind off the strange energy I was finding it harder and harder to suppress.

  “Lycans need laws just as humans do,” he said. “The Assembly helps us define those laws and gives the different packs the opportunity to voice their complaints and suggest new laws without resorting to battle.”

  I felt my eyes widen. “Battle? Like war?”

  Like a gentleman, Lucien held a low-hanging branch aside for me and waited for me to pass before letting go. “That is how we settled things in the past. Full out war, or pack against pack.”

  “Why?”

  He sent me an inscrutable look. “Why does anyone do anything?”

  “That doesn’t answer the question at all.”

  “Does it not?”

  I’d grown used to Lucien guarding information around me, but I found this new and helpful Lucien even more frustrating. Nothing was more annoying than half answers and riddles.

  Lip twitching, Lucien arched a brow. “That is almost endearing.”

  My legs stopped carrying me forward and all I could do was gape up at the man. Had he just complimented me? “What?”

  His lip twitched again. “That cute little frown. I didn’t realize you had the ability to show your displeasure.”

  “W-what do you mean?”

  The way he cocked his head made me squirm. “You seldom express any negative feelings. Instead, you hide your eyes and shrink away.” A thoughtful pause and my gaze shot to him, breath trapped in my chest. “Almost as though expressing anger has resulted in painful consequences in the past.”

  Air gushed out of me in such a rush my head spun. When I tried to take a step back—wanting to escape the dark understanding descending over his expression and shrouding it with lethal shadows—he grabbed my elbow and caught my gaze.

  “Is that too close to the truth?” His voice was devoid of light and emotion, still it was smooth. Silky. Like death delivered on a sigh of pleasure.

  I couldn’t answer. Trapped by his mesmerizing gaze, I could only stare into eyes that darkened with a familiar fury. A fury I’d first glimpsed the day he’d ripped Tim apart.

  “Is that why you are frightened?” he whispered and pulled me closer.

  All the fine hairs on my body rose. Almost like they, too, were captivated by Lucien; thrilled by his nearness and terrified by his dangerous questions. When he leaned in, stealing my personal space, his fury morphed into something else. Something wordless and just as dangerous.

  “I . . . I don’t—”

  His mouth a hairsbreadth from mine, his warm breath a caress, he whispered, “Tell me of your enemies and I shall wipe them off this world.”

  A whimper worked its way up my throat. The small, girlish sound was prey alerting predator. The catalyst to a hunt I wouldn’t survive.

  Lucien stilled. His nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed. His breath stopped.

  And then he attacked.

  His mouth descended on mine and time ceased to exist.

  The soft look of his lips the few times he was relaxed had been a lie. As they fused to mine, there was no softness in them, no give, and no question. They were firm, hungry as he invaded my senses and thrust his tongue past my barriers, devouring my soul.

  Somehow, my hands found his hair, and when he growled into my mouth, I tugged in desperation.

  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All that I was belonged to him in that moment.

  A tormented sound tore from Lucien as he ravaged me. One of his hands found my ass and squeezed. Hard. It pushed us together so the firm length of him pressed against my belly. His other hand mimicked mine. Buried in the hair by my neck, he used it to control my movements.

  My stomach clenched with arousal so sharp it was painful.

  Using his hold to tilt my head back, his mouth tore away to hungrily taste the skin on my neck. Flashes of sharp pain were followed by the sweetest streaks of pleasure as he bit my skin and laved at the small marks with a talented tongue.

  When he reached the sensitive skin behind my ear, a low moan fell from my lips and then the drugging heat of his mouth disappeared.

  For a moment, I could only blink as my body cooled and the delicious shivers of pleasure faded. Lucien stood with his back to me, head clasped in hands that shook, and that was all it took for me to remember.

  I remembered Ruarc and Jason. And I remembered all the times Lucien had devastated me with his vicious accusations.

  I stood stock still, not daring to move, barely able to breathe as guilt, regret, fear, and shame washed over me. I was afraid of making my presence known, of reminding Lucien I was there.

  God, he will probably blame me for this, too, I thought, on the verge of panic. The racing beat of my heart picked up speed as I pictured the disgust on his face when he finally turned back to me.

  The prickling in my skin—momentarily forgotten while I’d lost my mind to his heated kiss—came back with a vengeance, and it took all my willpower to not scratch myself bloody.

  Even my teeth ached.

  When Lucien finally turned, my eyes were glued to the forest floor and I was completely engrossed in studying the tiny insects scuttling across dead leaves and long-stretching roots.

  “Are you ready to go back?”

  My eyes shot up at his even tone, and I was met with an impassive face, showing no trace of either his earlier hunger or the expected contempt.

  “I . . . I don’t . . .”

  “Very well, let’s move to the main path and loop back around.”

  I could only stare after his ramrod straight back, almost losing sight of him before scurrying to catch up.

  What just happened?

  I kissed Lucien.

  But why wasn’t he yelling and making me feel like shit?

  Because I already feel like shit?

  How would I explain this to Ruarc and Jason?

  Hit by a wave of nausea, I hunched my shoulders and avoided looking at the cryptic man who’d only minutes ago made me feel like the sweetest treasure.

  It wouldn’t last long.

  In a few days, the only thing Lucien would feel for me was hatred.

  And it would be well deserved.

  23

  Lucien

  Sunshine. The female somehow tasted of sunshine.

  My hands flexed, wanting to pull her back in; drown in her scent, her taste, the sweet little sounds she made when my tongue invaded her mouth.

  My god, she was dangerously addictive.

  I swallowed a black curse and resisted the urge to rip the nearest tree from the ground for no other reason than to give these burning thoughts an outlet.

  Everything had been blissfully silent while she was in my arms. The chaos she’d caused had stilled. It hadn’t been peace—nothing as volatile as passion could ever be peaceful—but at the very least I had ceased wishing for the separation of my head from my body.

  She made no sound as we walked—except for her feet, which were much too loud for her size. How long did a human need air for, anyway? Did they not know air was all around us? She breathed, did she not? Though she refused to use any of her precious air to talk. To argue. Sparring with her, while vexing, could occasionally be enjoyable.

  And much preferred to this subdued female following me through the dense vegetation.

  I refused to consider that I could be the reason for her sudden meekness. Not after what had been revealed. Someone had trained her to be afraid; taught her that pain was the reward for her anger.

  Was it any wonder she bowed her head and hid her eyes when I prodded at her temper?

&nbs
p; Black rage wound up my spine and thrust a blade between my shoulders.

  Hissing, silently cursing myself for this weakness, I shoved the treacherous emotion behind a wall of packed ice and glanced back at the ruin of my sanity. She was a walking contradiction—or perhaps I was the one being contrary? The fire in her eyes when I’d all but commanded her to accept my friendship had been beautiful to behold. I wished to see more of that fire, and yet I also craved her openness, her vulnerability.

  Her secrets.

  “Lucien, I . . .”

  Her hesitant voice had me swallow a growl. “What is it?” I wanted to curse at my overly harsh tone. It wouldn’t do to make her suspect the degree to which she affected me. If she knew how much my body wanted her, she might one day use it against me.

  Yet another reason to keep an emotional distance.

  Now that I’d decided on a course of action, I was impatient to see it come to fruition. Impatient for her to develop the feelings needed to gain her trust. Her affection. Free access to those sinfully luscious lips.

  “Never mind,” she whispered.

  I spun around, annoyed at the way she hung her head and refused to meet my eyes. “What is wrong with you now?”

  If possible, her shoulders curled farther inward and she inched away from me. “N-nothing.”

  “God help me,” I muttered darkly and tried to find my patience. Though it was difficult when she insisted on being this jittery little rabbit just minutes after I’d made her moan with pleasure.

  I wracked my brain, trying to understand what could possibly have inspired this . . . this vexing meekness when I noticed the slight shaking in her hands and the rapid, fluttery beat of her pulse.

  To my aggravation, I was struck by the irrational fear that the vein in her neck would collapse if her pulse did not slow. Which was absurd. No one had ever suffered a—

  My body turned to rocks. Heavy grinding rocks that had no choice but to stop moving if they did not wish to cause a rockslide.