by Woods, Erica
Even so, I was hesitant to leave the relative safety of Ash’s bedroom. Guilt plagued me. Technically, I hadn’t done anything wrong—they’d told me it was up to me if I wanted more from Ash or Lucien—but no matter how I tried to justify my actions, I couldn’t get away from the fact that I should have spoken to them about it before anything happened.
Thank god Ash stopped us from going further.
My heart raced and my hands were clammy as I crept through the quiet cabin.
“Hungry?” Standing alone by the stove, Ash glanced over his shoulder, eyes warming as they swept over me. “You look nice.”
Blushing, I looked down at the clothes he’d picked out for me. Light blue jeans, a white top, and a pair of pink socks decorated with pouncing cats—a gift from Jason after he’d called me ‘kitten’ as a joke. “Thanks. Um . . . where are the others?”
“They will be here soon.”
I took a seat by the counter without offering to help—the only one that ever accepted my help in the kitchen was Ruarc. Speaking of . . . “Have you seen him?”
The muscles of Ash’s broad shoulders flexed. “Not yet.” He kept his back to me and continued cooking.
“When . . .” I cleared my suddenly dry throat. “When do you think he will be back?”
“Soon.”
When he didn’t elaborate, I slumped in my chair and mindlessly traced invisible patterns over the countertop.
A door opened and shut behind us, the soft sound like a gunshot in my mind. Every cell in my body stood at attention as I twisted to see who’d come to join us.
A flash of cool green—pines covered in a sheet of frost—and a rawness scraping over my skin. “You are up.” Impeccably dressed in yet another expensive-looking suit, Lucien strode through the living room like he owned it, taking a seat on the far end of the kitchen counter. His cold gaze raked over me once more, but though his lips tightened and a muscle along his jaw jumped, he kept quiet.
“You are just in time,” Ash said mildly. “Breakfast will be ready in two minutes. Although, I am afraid my cooking skills are not on par with Ruarc’s.”
“Have you heard from our reckless brother?”
“How would you like your eggs, banajaanh?” Ash asked me, and Lucien stiffened.
“Any way is fine,” I mumbled, all too aware I was the reason for all this tension. If only I’d never seen Matthew none of this would have happened!
But then you’d have carried the guilt of his death forever.
I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, worrying it with my teeth. Just because he hadn’t died didn’t mean I was absolved. Matthew had suffered because of me, saved me in a way I could never repay. And living with the guilt of his death was nothing compared to living without these—
“Good god, woman!” Lucien got up so fast the stool he’d been sitting on toppled over with a crack. Then his exquisitely beautiful face was inches from mine, glowering as though I’d mortally offended him. “There’s no wrong answer. No one will—” He grabbed my shoulder, nostrils flaring. “Just pick your damned eggs!”
A startled yelp pushed past my lips. I flinched away from that hot, burning anger and promptly lost my balance. Arms spinning like windmills in an attempt to regain my footing; a crack against my knuckles, and I howled, pulling my hand tight to my chest.
My stomach bottomed out and I squeezed my eyes shut, prepared to hit the hard surface of the floor, but then strong arms came around me and my face pressed against a warm, solid surface.
I blinked, heart racing, body still preparing for impact, and looked up at a too-pale face.
“What—”
Before I could finish my question, Lucien hurriedly placed me on the counter and used his body as a cage. “Why are you always determined to fall over when I am around?” he asked, the arms he’d put on each side of me shaking—with anger or something else?
“I . . . I’m sorry?”
He gritted his teeth. “Let me see.”
“See what?”
“Your hand.”
I angled my chest away from him to hide the throbbing hand in question. Harder than it sounded, when he stood so close his nose nearly brushed mine. “No.”
The sound of grinding teeth. “Why on earth not?”
That was a good question. Why didn’t I want him to see it? “Uh . . .” I cast about for an answer, even looked to Ash for help, but he only raised his brows and made no move to save me from Lucien’s examination. With a heavy sigh, I extended my arm.
His touch was gentle despite the hard set to his jaw. “There is some bruising,” he said and lightly ran his thumb over my knuckles. “But nothing feels broken.”
Despite the throbbing pain, butterflies tumbled around in my stomach when Lucien’s warm, masculine scent wrapped around me. Flashes of memory intruded.
The silky feel of Lucien’s hair sliding through my fingers.
His hands squeezing my backside.
The thrill of his lips on mine—lips that could be so cruel yet felt so heavenly.
“That’s good.” My low whisper made me realize I was too caught up in this, too mesmerized by him to think clearly. With molten heat trying to invade my belly, I tried for a joke to ease the tension. “I guess I won’t have to take revenge on the counter then.”
Lucien blinked. “Why would you seek revenge on the counter?”
“Because it almost broke my hand.”
“It was not the counter,” Ash said, coming up behind me and placing an arm around my waist. To my embarrassment, my body melted into his before my brain could catch up. “Your hand hit Lucien when he moved to save you from a hard encounter with the floor.”
I gasped. “I hit you? Where?” My eyes roamed up and down his body, looking for an injury or some sign that he’d been hit. If my hand hurt this bad, surely there must be some damage to the man.
Lucien muttered something under his breath.
“What?”
“His chin, banajaanh,” Ash said, and even though his face remained impassive, I could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. “Lucien is not used to being caught unaware. I think his pride is suffering from taking a hit by a female. A small human one, at that.”
As if to prove Ash’s point, Lucien whipped around and speared him with an icy stare. “I was not ‘caught unaware’,” he said. “I decided to allow the touch when estimating my chances of catching the girl before she broke her fool neck.”
I jumped up and almost fell again when Lucien abruptly let go of my hand.
“Careful now, Hope, or Lucien may just end up with a black eye.”
I frowned and reached up to feel Lucien’s jaw. As soon as my hand touched his skin, I knew I’d made a mistake. The slight bristle from his stubble rubbed delicious friction over the sensitive skin on my palm. Underneath the stubble, his skin felt smooth, a stark contrast to the sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones. His scent whipped around me, the enticing smell luring me closer until I stood on tiptoes—my free hand resting on his shoulder as my nose sought the source of the smell. Somehow, I knew it would be stronger near his neck, and if Lucien wasn’t standing ramrod straight, tendons straining, I might have lost my head and followed the strange urge to bury my nose in the tempting space.
As it was, I remembered who I was dealing with just in time to pull back and hang my head. “I’m so sorry, Lucien. I didn’t mean to hit you.” I dared a peek up at him, taken back when, instead of the icy disdain I was expecting, a dazed look had taken hold over his normally impenetrable expression. “Does it hurt?”
The dazed look faded and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “You believe a flimsy blow delivered by a tiny human could hurt me?”
The way he said ‘human’ made me bristle and forget my apology. “It hurt me!”
“You are human.”
“Well, my hand almost broke!”
Regret flashed over the beautiful planes of his face before disappearing beneath drawn brows and tense lips. “It did not! A
nd if you would stop jumping like a scared rabbit every time I moved, none of this would have happened in the first place!”
“I wasn’t scared,” I argued, annoyed when one perfectly formed brow rose in a way I could only describe as mocking. “You just . . . you surprised me with your yelling.”
“I did not yell. Did I?” He turned to Ash.
I turned too. “You heard, right?”
A slow smile spread across a face I swore grew more handsome by the day. Wide lips twitched, the cutting sharpness of his blue eyes grew soft. For a second, I forgot what we’d been talking about, too entranced by him and the rarity of the moment to gather the thoughts running circles in my brain. Then, still smiling but not showing any teeth, Ash tilted his head to the side and looked between us. “I think it will be better for me if I stay out of this.”
The sound of the front door rattling on its hinges killed the argument and had us all spin around.
“Ruarc!” I exclaimed, about to rush to him when his silver gaze simply glanced off me and settled on Ash.
A sharp, painful tug on my heart turned my legs to useless jelly. Instead of throwing myself into his arms, I stood still, frozen, locked in place while my pulse roared in my ears and my hands shook.
“You find out who she met with?” he asked gruffly.
While the ache inside me grew, my gaze remained fixed on Ruarc, on the first man I’d ever loved. I didn’t miss the way his shoulders slumped when Ash murmured a low “No” or the subtle flinch that pulled on his scar and left him looking disturbingly defeated.
The ache expanded, filled every part of me.
“Ash was a little busy,” Lucien said with a dark look at Ash’s hand where it had come to rest on my lower abdomen.
Frowning, Ruarc followed his gaze. “What’s this?”
When Ash pulled me back against his body and rested his chin on top of my head, I could have sworn all the air drained from the room, leaving behind an empty vacuum that perfectly matched the hollowness in my stomach.
I wrenched away from Ash and took a step toward Ruarc with my hand outstretched, wanting to touch him, to reassure myself that he was alright and that we would be alright. “Ruarc, I—”
His heavy stare cut the words from my mind before they could form. There was no expression on his hard face, even the eyes that normally watched me with a furious swirl of emotions looked blank.
Empty.
Time became elastic as we stared at each other. Each second dragged its heavy feet past us, moving further and further, slower and slower, stretching thinner and thinner. Until it snapped, hurtling back to its normal state, ripping us back to the present.
Ruarc yanked his gaze away and I nearly stumbled forward.
The heavy beat of my heart echoed in my ears, so loud I wondered how he didn’t hear it and understand that it was for him. That I loved him and would never want to hurt him. Just as I loved Jason, and—
Isn’t that part of the problem? That you have feelings for all of them?
Without saying a word, Ruarc turned and walked away. I’d expected shouting, angry accusations, at the very least a door slamming shut behind him, but instead he barely made a sound as he closed the bedroom door and left us staring after him.
“Oh, god.” The words came out broken, defeated. If a stool hadn’t been right behind me, ready to catch my weight, I would have slumped straight to the ground. Tears threatened, but I pushed them back.
I didn’t deserve to cry. Ruarc was the one who’d been hurt. I’d stolen his fire and replaced it by a hollow nothingness. That’s what I’d seen as I looked at him.
Nothing.
No emotion, no rage. The savage fury I’d spent my days fearing as much as I enjoyed the feeling it gave me—of being protected by a warrior who’d do anything to keep me safe—was gone.
Why hadn’t I taken the time to speak with him before jumping in bed with Ash? He deserved better. They both did.
“I should have talked to him first,” I said brokenly to no one in particular.
“Yes,” Lucien agreed. “Or better yet, you should have told me.”
Told him? If I wasn’t so heartbroken I would have been upset he inserted himself into this very private matter. But maybe he had a right to know as well? It was only yesterday I’d kissed him with all the passion my treacherous body was capable of.
God, I was a mess!
“I . . . maybe,” I said, misery urging me to curl into a ball and never look either of them in the eyes ever again.
“You agree? Of course you agree,” Lucien quickly corrected. “Now that you have come to your senses, woman, you may explain yourself so we can put this matter behind us.”
“It’s too late.” What did it matter now? It was already done.
A big hand settled on my shoulder and Ash’s familiar scent—hay, horses, and untamed, unending plains—brought comfort of a different kind. “It is never too late, banajaanh.”
“But . . .” I looked up, hoping my eyes didn’t betray my pain by letting my suppressed tears escape. “It already happened.”
Brows drawing together, Lucien asked, “What already happened?” Then a dark, thunderous emotion rolled over his face and changed him from the cold, marble-like statue I’d gotten used to, into an animated, darkly furious man who could have easily passed for an avenging angel. “You found a way to meet him? How!” He shook my shoulders while I stared dumbly up into his narrowed, flashing eyes. “We stood guard all night!”
“W-what?” I twisted to look at Ash, expecting to see my confusion reflected back. But when he met my gaze, a scary predator stared back at me with chilling harshness. “But—”
“Answer Lucien,” Ash said in a silky voice.
“I don’t understand! We were there together. Both of us,” I added with a quick glance at Ash’s serious face.
Going completely still, Lucien turned to Ash. “You let her meet him?”
“Of course not.”
“She says you did.”
Ash cocked his head while I attempted to follow their rapid-fire-but-too-quiet exchange. “I thought you never believe anything Hope says.”
“Things change.”
“I am glad,” Ash said, then squeezed my shoulder. “But in this case I think not all is what it seems.”
Lucien’s stare burned as he turned to me. “Where did you meet the male?”
“What male?” I cried, suddenly happy Ash was at my back again. I clutched at the arm around my waist—how did he keep doing that without me noticing?—and took comfort in his steady presence. “You know I was with Ash!”
“But you said—”
“Hope,” Ash interrupted before Lucien’s angry interrogation could begin. “What did you mean when you said you should have talked to Ruarc first?”
Even though they were both aware what had happened between me and Ash last night, my cheeks heated uncomfortably at the question. “You know what I meant. You and me. What happened between us.” Despair tightened my voice. “I should have asked him first. Made sure he was okay with it.”
They went quiet. A few seconds passed, then a few more. Until Lucien dropped to his haunches in front of me, studying me with an intensity that made me squirm. “You truly believe that.”
I didn’t understand what was happening, but I definitely disliked seeing Lucien in such a subservient position. “Don’t do that,” I muttered and leaned down to tug on his sleeve. “I’m not . . .” I’m not worth a display like that.
“You are not what, banajaanh?” Ash engulfed me in his strong arms, not lifting me away from Lucien but holding me in an embrace that allowed me to keep hold of the lowered man’s sleeve.
A lump formed in my throat, and the longer Lucien remained on the floor, the sadder I felt. A proud male such as him didn’t belong on the floor. Suddenly, I was sure this was wrong. All wrong. An image flashed in my mind of Lucien kneeling at another time, head bent and fury contorting his beautiful face until all that remained was
an ugly grimace of unfettered rage.
“Get up,” I pleaded again.
His brows drew together while he searched my face, then he finally rose with a grace I could never hope to imitate. “Very well,” he said crisply, dusting imaginary lint off his sleeves. He exchanged another look with Ash, then turned to me and whatever had been present on his face before was wiped away like it’d never been. “Now that we have settled that particular matter, we should move on to the one thing that is important. What is the name of the male from yesterday?”
* * *
The rest of the morning continued in the same manner. Ruarc didn’t leave his room, and I was too much of a coward to go to him. When just the thought of him rejecting me hurt down to my soul, I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle the real thing. So I stayed with Ash and endured Lucien’s endless interrogation.
It wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
Lucien didn’t once attack me personally when I refused to answer his questions. He hadn’t last night either. Oh, the biting tone occasionally made a reappearance, and a couple of less-than-flattering comments about females in general were tossed out, but he acted surprisingly civil considering I was actively disobeying his orders.
Eventually, the tired steel I’d used to prop my spine up stopped being needed. Quivering muscles loosened, my jaw relaxed, my hands unclenched. I was still nervous, still anxious, but I no longer feared what Lucien would say if I continued to defy him. He was fire and ice—cool anger and hot rage. But whenever the emotions rose in him, whenever his eyes flashed and he got that look, the one that said he was three seconds away from cutting me with words that would leave me battered and bruised, he’d spin around, pinch the bridge of his nose, and curse under his breath.
What changed? I thought, watching the rigid lines of his shoulders beneath his black suit. It can’t just be the . . . the kiss?