by Jane Kindred
“So you know.” The realization tied his stomach in knots. She had utterly turned the tables on him, and he had no defense. “You know what my family did.”
“You mean that they essentially owned mine.”
Lucien blinked at her in confusion. “Owned? They were Madeleine Marchant’s patrons, if that’s what you mean.”
“So they received her property when she was burned at the stake. Including her daughters. They became the wards of the Vicomte de Briançon, who sold them off to his cronies.”
This was something Lucien had never heard. There was only one daughter he knew about. The one who’d married the vicomte’s youngest son.
“You didn’t know about that.” Theia studied him. “So what were you talking about? What did your family do?”
Lucien rubbed his hand over his mouth, smoothing his fingers over his stubble. Hell. Might as well just tell her. Everything was fucked anyway.
“The vicomte’s family—his wife—denounced Madeleine Marchant.”
After a stunned silence, Theia lowered herself to the couch. “Wow.”
“It was apparently a not-uncommon practice. A way for noblemen to steal what little their vassals had. Unless their families could prove to have had no knowledge of the witchcraft, the belongings of the accused went to their patrons by default to pay for the execution.” Lucien shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry.”
Unexpectedly, Theia began to laugh.
“What in the world is funny about that?”
“Everything. This entire fight. I’m supposed to be mad at you because of something some people who were distantly related to us did over five hundred years ago? I mean, it’s ridiculous. You’re apologizing for the Vicomte de Briançon.”
Her laugh was infectious, and Lucien had to lower his eyes to keep from smiling. It was ridiculous, but she was still a demon. And she was still part of the curse Madeleine had put on his family.
Theia’s laughter subsided. “But you’re still mad at me.”
Lucien looked up. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the universe. I mean, yes, I’m angry that you kept the fact that you have demon blood from me—”
“I thought you knew. You’re the one who brought up my tattoo at the wedding and kept talking about blackmail and witches.”
“Your tattoo...”
Theia held out her arm. “You called it the mark of Lilith. You obviously knew about Madeleine’s claim.”
“Her claim, yes, but not what it meant for her descendants. Not about the Lilith blood and the generations of seven sisters.”
“And now that you do, I suppose I’m on your list.” Theia rose, her gray eyes darkening. “Should I watch my back, Lucien? What would one of those arrows do to me?”
“I would never come after you.”
“Oh, well, that’s a relief. You know what? You can take the job at Smok Biotech and shove it up your ass.” She brushed past him, reaching for the door, but Lucien grabbed her arm, and tears spilled over her cheeks.
“Don’t go.”
Theia looked up at him, miserable. “Why?”
He was too close to her. His skin touching hers. It would enhance any empathic vibrations she was picking up. Polly had warned him to stay away. His own instincts had warned him. She could read him now. He was an open book.
“Because I need you,” he said simply and drew her into his arms. “I don’t want to, but I do.”
Theia’s tears were still falling. “Then I guess I’m insulted and flattered.”
Lucien laughed, the release of tension he needed, and kissed her.
It was a mistake. All of it was a mistake. But right now it felt like the most delicious mistake he’d ever made. Screw the Fates and his own infernal blood.
Theia tasted like lemon drops, and her hair smelled like violets, and nothing mattered. Lucien had been with his share of women—he hadn’t been kidding when he’d bragged to her at the reception about the effect the Smok name seemed to have on some—but he’d never felt anything like the jumbled-up confection of desire and nervous excitement and worry and affection and, yes, need that was threading through his veins as he drank her in. He gathered her to him like she was a figurine made of glass, delicate and hard at once. He couldn’t stop touching her, stroking her arms and her hair, holding her face between his hands as he kissed her deeper and with greater desperation until he finally had to let her go to breathe.
Theia’s skin was flushed and her pupils dilated, her eyes shining as liquid danced in them in the dim light of the one lamp he’d fumbled on as he’d made his way to the door.
Lucien stroked his thumb across her still-damp cheek. “These are yours, right?”
Theia laughed weakly. “I think so. Unless kissing me makes you sad.”
Lucien smiled. “It does not.” He kissed her again to prove it, this time less desperately, lingering over the texture and taste of her lips. “You taste like lemon candy,” he murmured against them, and Theia laughed again.
“Laurel made lemon bars. I had them with tea.”
“Laurel?”
“My sister. My half sister.”
“You have a half sister?”
“Three of them.”
“Three...”
Theia nodded. “And four makes seven.”
That little feeling of alarm was back, rattling against the walls of his skull, but Lucien wasn’t about to give it free rein. Not now.
“I guess you didn’t read through all of my research.” Her body had gone tense.
Lucien was determined to drive the tension out. He let his hand slip down her arm and wordlessly led her to the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he drew her onto his lap and kissed the back of her neck beneath the little point of hair at the center of her bob.
“What are you doing?” she murmured, softer already.
“Tasting you.”
Theia shivered delightfully.
Lucien was only wearing a towel, and there was no way of hiding what that shiver did to him. The little moan she followed it up with only made things worse.
He wrapped his arms around her, stroking hers once more. “I like touching you.”
“I can see that.” Theia’s arms crossed over his.
Lucien chuckled. “Well, I don’t think you can see it, exactly. Not yet.” He pressed his lips to her nape once more and began working his way toward the front, lingering in that spot just beneath the hollow of her jaw.
“Lucien.” Theia’s voice was a soft gasp.
He tucked her hair behind her ear and licked her earlobe. “Hmm?”
“I should probably...tell you something.”
Lucien shook his head, planting more kisses along her collarbone as he peeled back the edge of her shirt. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“I think you might want to know...this thing.” Theia gasped again and grabbed his hand as it slid downward between her legs, not pulling it back but not letting him move it any farther. “I think you might need to know it.”
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
“Not wrong, exactly. It’s just that, well...” Theia cleared her throat. “I’m a virgin.”
Chapter 13
She waited for Lucien to laugh or for things to get awkward. Guys generally had one of two reactions to this announcement: pulling away or pressuring her. But Lucien did neither.
He kissed her neck again. “So?”
“That’s...not a problem for you?”
“I guess it depends on what you want to do about it.”
“Well, I... I’m not sure.” Theia turned to look at him, and he caught her mouth in a kiss that made her forget what they were talking about.
After a moment, Lucien moved his mouth to her neck once more, nuzzling beneath her ear. “You don’t have to decide right
now, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just want you near me. We can just cuddle. Or I could...”
“Could...what?”
Lucien smiled, a devious little upturn to one corner of his mouth. “I could keep tasting you.”
“Oh.” Theia felt her whole body blush, heat rising in her skin for a multitude of reasons. She could also feel his heat beneath the towel. It wasn’t that she hadn’t gone that far before—she had, once or twice—it was how much she suddenly wanted him to that was making her flushed.
Lucien slid her off his lap onto the bed and ran his fingers along the hem of her T-shirt. “Can I take this off?”
Theia nodded and let Lucien draw the fabric up, lifting her arms so he could pull it over her head. He tossed the shirt on the floor, tracing her curves through the thin barrier of her bra. Fortunately, she’d worn a nice one, black mesh lace with a halter closure. Theia closed her eyes, clutching the edge of the bed, as Lucien lowered his head and closed his mouth over the fabric, the heat and damp of his tongue making a mess of it.
She opened her eyes with a whimper of disappointment when he let go, but he’d dropped to his knees and was staring up at her with his hands at the button of her jeans. “These, too?”
Theia nodded again, not trusting her voice, raising herself off the bed as he unbuttoned them and worked them off and down, pausing to take off her canvas flats. He positioned himself between her legs with his hands against her thighs, looking like a Roman centurion in his towel, and without removing her panties he parted her with the flat of his tongue.
Theia bit her lip, fingers curled around the bedspread, as Lucien’s tongue prodded and teased against the cotton. If the bra was a mess, the panties were going to be wrecked, wet from without and within. Lucien’s teeth nipped at the fabric, tugging the damp cotton and shaking it with a little growl like a puppy playing tug-of-war as he grinned up at her. At the same time, he’d moved his hands along her thighs, his thumbs slipping inside the legs of the garment, and Theia gasped as he pulled the panties away with a swift motion of thumbs and teeth.
As they fell to the floor, Lucien gently loosened her grip on the bedspread. “Let go. Hold on to me instead.” He threaded his fingers through hers and locked them tight, as though to keep her grounded in case she floated away.
Theia let out a moan as he buried his head in her lap, tongue persistently and enthusiastically opening her until she was writhing and rocking into him and forgot to care about how much sound she was making. And Lucien seemed to revel in it, rewarding her with faster, deeper strokes of his tongue and answering moans of his own the more noise she made, until she arched back, hips raised, and crooned as the waves of her climax rolled through her. Her vision had gone blue.
Completely spent and utterly relaxed, Theia flopped back onto the bed, and Lucien persisted until she had to stop him, overstimulated. He responded to the little twist of her hips without her having to say a word, raising his head and resting his cheek on her thigh.
Lucien softened his fingers in hers and stroked his thumb along the heel of her palm. “You okay, beautiful?”
Theia giggled, not sure if it was more at the question or the endearment. “I am very okay.”
He lifted his head from her thigh and climbed onto the bed, the towel catching and sliding off, revealing his still very enthusiastic erection.
Theia rolled onto her stomach beside him. “Do you want me to...?”
Lucien leaned back against the pillows, stroking himself idly. “Take this off,” he murmured, tugging on the band of her bra.
Theia sat up and loosened the halter at her nape to let the bra drop open, cheeks warming at the little sound he made as she unhooked the back.
He shook his head. “Damn, girl. Just stay there, just like that.” His fist around his cock was sliding up and down in more deliberate strokes.
Theia sat back on her heels, watching with fascination. She’d never actually seen a guy jerk off before. Lucien’s hand picked up pace, and his breathing matched it as he watched her back, the soft sighs and grunts of his exhalations punctuating the sounds of skin against skin. After a moment, he screwed his eyes shut and let out a whispered string of obscenities and went off like a geyser, pearly white drops spattering the tight washboard of his abs as he choked the blushing head.
With his eyes still closed, the long, dark lashes stood out against the flush in his cheeks. “Come here,” he whispered, holding out his hand.
She crawled toward him and curled beneath his arm, and Lucien kissed her, his lips still sticky with her and her taste still on his tongue, unexpectedly pleasant.
Theia cuddled against his side. “Why didn’t you want me to...return the favor?”
“It wasn’t a quid pro quo, darling.”
She flinched at the sardonic tone in his voice. She hadn’t heard it since he’d given her the tour of the lab.
Lucien opened his eyes. “Sorry. Reflex.” He rolled toward her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m not used to not behaving like a prick just because I can.” He kissed her again, the honesty in his touch reassuring. “When someone asks, ‘Do you want me to?’ it’s generally not because they want to but because they think they ought to.”
“It’s not that I didn’t want to—”
“Theia, it’s okay. I would never want you to do something you weren’t ready to do just to appease my arousal. I’m not one of those men who thinks he’s owed something just because he’s given something. The pleasure was in the gift.” Lucien grinned. “Believe me.”
Theia smiled. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind. In case it...comes up again.”
Lucien laughed. “And I have no doubt that it will.” He snuggled closer to her. “Possibly after a short nap.”
Theia closed her eyes for a moment, but they opened in a flash. “Oh, shit.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I was supposed to feed Puddleglum.”
“Can’t he wait until morning?”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had a cat.”
“Well, you have a stomach, don’t you?” Theia sat up, scrambling for her clothes. Her panties lay in a soggy heap at the foot of the bed.
Lucien laughed as she held them up and scowled at them. “Just toss them in my hamper. The cleaning lady is coming in the morning.”
“I can do laundry at Phoebe’s.”
Lucien took them out of her hand and tossed them into the hamper across the room. “I’m sure you can, but that’s what I pay the cleaning lady for.”
Theia wasn’t a fan of going commando, but she’d have to grin and bear it. She pulled on her jeans, zipping them carefully, and wriggled into her top while stuffing her feet into her shoes. The bra she tucked into her back pocket.
Lucien’s phone buzzed, and he picked it up from the nightstand, studying the message with a frown.
“Bad news?”
“No, just a client. I have to go to Tucson.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah, somebody’s got a poltergeist problem at the university. Lucy’s on her way over to pick me—”
The bell chimed on the door.
Lucien inclined his head toward the sound. “—Up.”
But Lucy hadn’t waited for an answer. The front door opened, and Theia stood frozen in her tracks as Lucien’s sister came down the hall, while Lucien remained where he was—nudity, sticky abs and all.
Lucy paused in the doorway, staring at Theia a moment before glancing at Lucien and rolling her eyes. “I see you found your way home just fine, Lulu.”
“Don’t call me Lulu.”
“I should go.” Theia scooted past Lucy through the door.
“Hang on.” Lucien followed her to the front door as if his nudity were incidental and gave her a kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“With what?”
Lucien shrugged in acknowledgment. “I’ll get another phone in the morning.”
Theia lowered her voice. “Aren’t you a little uncomfortable...like this...with Lucy being here?”
“Why?” Lucien shrugged. “She’s seen me naked. Don’t worry about it.” He kissed her again and opened the door. As it closed behind her, Theia realized her bra was dangling out of her back pocket.
* * *
“Give me five minutes,” Lucien called over his shoulder as he went into the bathroom.
Lucy appeared in the doorway as he stood over the toilet. “You really think this is smart?”
“What, taking a piss?”
“Fucking that witch.”
“She’s not a witch. She has visions. She’s an empath.”
“Oh, well, that’s fine, then. Nothing could go wrong there.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“You just seem a little bent on giving away all your secrets to someone you barely know. And some of those secrets belong to me.”
Lucien flushed the toilet. “It may surprise you to know, but we didn’t actually spend any time talking about you and your secrets when we were in bed. We were occupied with more interesting things.”
“Just clean yourself up and let’s go. Our ride is waiting for us at the airport.”
The ride turned out to be a helicopter. At least he could avoid small talk with Lucy on the flight.
* * *
Rhea called just after Theia got out of a long, luxurious soak in the tub and started getting ready for bed. She thought about not answering, but that would only make Rhea suspicious.
She hit the speaker and tossed the phone on the bed. “What’s up, buttercup?”
“You sound cheery.”
“No, I don’t. I’m just getting ready for bed. I do have a big bowl of ice cream waiting for me, though. I’m pretty pleased about that.”
“I told you to call me when you got home last night, and you didn’t.”
“Oh.” Shit. “Sorry. You’re right. I forgot.”