As his pet curled against him, her long leg winding through his as if to ensnare him, he knew there was no way she couldn’t feel his heart racing. The erratic rhythm was something normally reserved for a man about to jump from a great height.
She fell instantly asleep, but he laid there staring up at the ceiling while sifting his fingers through her silky locks. For the first time in his life, for Markus, he hesitantly took that step up to teeter right on the very edge of life. As something inside him waited, seeking his brother’s approval, he looked into the familiar darkness in the abyss below…and felt fear. How did one deal with such an emasculating emotion?
He had no idea, so, as he’d done all his life, he buried it in a grave already overflowing with possibilities, and fell into a fitful sleep. In his dreams were faceless enemies mocking a solitary figure too overcome with uncertainty to allow even a portion of happiness into his heart.
TWENTY-FIVE
All Yasmeen could think as death came for her was she should have known better.
She should have known he’d lied about wanting her. She should have known the soft tones and gentle touches after his tantrum couldn’t be trusted. It had all been about Lucian luring her deeper and deeper into his web. She should have known better.
But she hadn’t, so, when she’d seen him alone in the hot spring that used to be the moat, she hadn’t hesitated to undress and join him. They’d swam naked, intertwined in each other’s arms. He’d been kissing her so tenderly. Until something changed and he’d come on so strong he’d begun stealing her breath.
Now he was setting her away from him, watching her float away with that vacant expression on his face that she hated. She kicked her legs as her head went under and her arms began to flail. She was paying the price for trusting him. She couldn’t swim, and he was already too far away to help keep her afloat. The water closed over her again, and she kicked harder to break through the surface. He’d promised. He’d promised only days ago never to let her drift beyond his reach. He’d promised.
He’d lied.
But she would forgive him. She knew she would, if only he would make an effort to save her.
She watched his beautiful form disappear as she went under for the last time. The water was dark but hot. So hot. Heavy. Suffocating. And it hurt. Her throat was aching as if it was about to be crushed from the pressure closing in. Her lungs were flaming. About to explode. She kicked and clawed at her throat, panicking worse than ever…
Yasmeen’s eyes flew open. Lucian was on top of her, his face a mask of malevolence that would have had her running for her life had she’d been able to get away. She couldn’t. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get him off her, and she couldn’t loosen the hold he had around her throat. Her collar was cutting into her skin.
“Stop,” she tried to say. “Lucian…stop.” But he didn’t.
It was funny. As weakness settled in and her limbs grew too heavy to lift, her last thought before leaving her lover wasn’t about her dying, but about how he would live with the knowledge that he’d killed her.
♦ ♦ ♦
I stood over him and smiled as he bled to death.
Lucian squeezed Sergei’s neck tighter and waited for that final breath to pass through his lips.
He called for you. Over and over he called out for his brother. Where were you, Fane?
This man had to die. Lucian couldn’t keep him alive as he’d wanted to. He couldn’t hear these things and survive his failure.
Where were you when he needed you most? You abandoned him. You gave in too easily, and you allowed me to get to him. Thanks for that.
Why was he still hearing that voice, the Russian accent, when he could barely feel a pulse anymore? How was it possible those damaging words could still reach him when not a slip of air could get into the man’s lungs around Lucian’s tight grip.
Lucian. Stop.
The sound of Markus’s voice in his head gave him such a jolt it shattered the nightmare and dislodged him from where he’d been lying on top of Yasmeen.
He stared in disbelief, his lung shearing through his harsh breaths. He hadn’t been choking Sergei in the nightmare that just wouldn’t end. He’d been taking the life of his precious pet in the cocoon he’d imprisoned her in to ensure her safety.
“Yasmeen,” he whispered, terrified at how still she was. He reached out and splayed his hands on her chest, inching them up. Markus’s still pulse came to him again, causing him to shuddered with terror. “Please, iubita mea. Don’t leave me.” His fingers found that spot…
The light, sluggish flutter was a gift from God that he vowed right then not to waste.
He snapped her up and was out the door in a blink. He raced through the corridors until he reached the small sickbay that was slightly larger than a doctor’s office. It wasn’t equipped to perform surgery, but it had what Lucian required.
He brought her to the examination table and laid her out without looking at the blue line around her lips that made him want to rage. He grabbed the mask, twisted the knob on the tank, and brought the life-giving oxygen to his pet’s mouth and nose.
“Breathe. Take it in and open your eyes. Allow me to fix this.” His chest clamped tight at the knowledge of what he was about to do. He disregarded it and the ferocious feelings of possession rising like an enraged army inside him.
She belongs to us.
His demons were angry. As usual, he paid no attention to what he didn’t want to deal with.
She belongs to us! they roared, refusing to be ignored.
I know. He couldn’t deny it, so he didn’t try.
They settled back after his acknowledgement, not knowing it wouldn’t change anything.
“Yasmeen. Wake up, my pet. Wake up, please, I beg of you.”
Apparently, she’d been waiting to hear him plead with her because that’s when she coughed and did as he demanded. Her lids lifted to show him a window to the loneliest soul he’d ever encountered.
“Very good. Just breathe. Do not sit up yet.” He held her down with a hand on her navel. “Let me give you what I took. Just breathe.”
She blinked slowly, sleepily, and held their connection. He didn’t look away. He took what he could while he could. She slipped her hand in his and something inside him rumbled and shook as if a small earthquake was taking place. The plates of his protective shell shifted, allowing minuscule pockets of steam to release.
After a few long minutes, she lifted her free hand and took the mask away. “I’m okay.”
“I do not know what to say. I am sorry is worthless and insulting in comparison to what I wish to convey.” He was sickened to the bone when he saw his hand-marks darkening around her neck, becoming permanent reminders that wouldn’t fade for days, maybe weeks. His study narrowed, focusing on something, and he reached out to lift her collar…
“Oh, iubita mea, what did I do to you?”
The edge of the platinum collar had cut into her skin to form a perfect ring that was beading with blood now that he’d removed it.
“Nothing. It was an accident. I’m okay.”
He was shaking his head, and he didn’t know if she was reacting to him or if it was her own thoughts, but she began to look afraid.
“No, it is far from okay,” he said. “What do I say to this?” How could he make her understand the scope of his regret?
She sat up and hugged him. “We’re good. Seriously. You don’t have to say anything.” Her voice was raw. “I can see it in your eyes. You don’t have to say anything, baby. I see it.” She held him tighter, offering comfort only minutes after he’d almost killed her.
He banded his arms around her. “You were Sergei. You were Sergei in my mind, and you were taunting me for leaving Markus an easy target for him. I…I had to silence him.” He would have woken next to her corpse.
She ran her fingers through his hair. “Well, I’m just glad it wasn’t my snoring that finally got to you.”
Her immed
iate forgiveness wasn’t right. Nor was her attempt to lighten the atmosphere with humor. “Would you like me to call a doctor? Do you feel—”
“I feel fine. Wide awake, actually.”
“That would be the oxygen,” he murmured as he pulled back and scrutinized her pale face. Why had he never considered he might be a threat to her? “Yasm—”
“Yeah, of course. The oxygen.” She kissed him to prevent him from finishing, then slid off the table.
“Yasmeen. Why are you not acknowledging what I have done?”
She came up on her toes and kissed him again. “We did acknowledge it. It was just one of those things, and now it’s over. Will you feed me? I’m starving.”
She yanked him into motion, pulling him along, looking back at him when she didn’t know which way to go because, to his knowledge, she’d never been in this area of the castle before. “It is not that simple,” he insisted.
“Sure it is.” She smiled at him over her shoulder as they entered the dark kitchen. Her eyes looked bruised. “Don’t tell me you’re going to over-analyze this. What’s the point? Like I said, it’s over. Let’s move on.”
He was afraid she was right. It was over, and it was time to move on.
She flicked a switch that lit up the track of lights above the stove. “Since no one is here, will you let me cook for you?” The hopeful look she gave him when she turned branded itself into his heart.
“I would rather you sit. I will fix something for you.”
“Don’t be silly. I feel like I just shot a pot of espresso. I need to move.” She proved she was fine when she skipped over to the refrigerator in the silver nightgown he’d put her in earlier.
He watched her root around as he walked to the far wall to turn on the rest of the lights.
He watched her as he came back to the island.
He watched her as he sat and tried to deny what this was.
And as he realized he couldn’t, he watched her.
Because it would be the last time he would have the pleasure.
♦ ♦ ♦
As Yasmeen took bread, eggs, and milk out of the fridge and whipped up some French toast, she felt Lucian’s observation. Already she was trying to deny the pain inching in. And she wasn’t referring to the stinging ring she could feel around her neck. Every time she swallowed, it felt as if glass shards were mixed in with her saliva.
He almost killed you.
She ignored the anxious voice she hadn’t heard since she’d woken in the limo that first day here.
It was an accident. Just one of those things, she defended. He didn’t mean it.
With that settled, she chattered while she worked. “I know you’re used to something fancier, but Miranda loves my French toast. Says she doesn’t get how something so simple can be so good. She’s a nightmare in the kitchen; Eric is not. He’s a chef at Pour Moi. Have you ever been there? Miranda’s so proud of him. She stands back and allows him to rule his domain when it comes to their kitchen. Me and Kristen—remember, my other roommate from college? When we all lived together, Kris and I did the cooking. Miranda did the eating and cleaning up. I doubt you ever met Kristen. I know you and her stepbrother are friends, but she’s been in Paris for a while now. How friendly are you and Vex? Or are you just associates? Do you do business with him? What’s he like? The way Kristen talks about him, you’d think he was a god.”
She grabbed a couple of forks and carried two plates over to the table. She ducked her head and smiled when she saw Lucian’s focus go to her throat.
“Hey, up here. We’re good. It’s just a scratch.” She placed his breakfast in front of him. “Let’s eat, okay? It’s nothing. Do you want coffee or juice?”
He shook his head and took her wrist to bring her over and settle her in his lap. She put her plate down next to his and curled against him, trying to memorize the way he felt.
“Let me.”
She nodded, not about to argue when he took a fork and cut a piece of the toast. He dipped it in syrup, waited for a drip to fall to the plate, then brought it to her mouth. She took it, then did things her way by picking up a triangle with her fingers. Breaking a piece off, she prepared it and offered it to him. She kept a small smile on her face, refusing to allow it to leave even though darkness was invading her like a disease. This was familiar.
“It is not nothing.”
She fed him another piece and shifted so she was straddling him. She snugged up closer, holding him between her legs as she watched him chew. “Talk to me about the horses you keep here. I met the one but haven’t seen the other yet. Can you give me a lesson tomorrow? I’ve never ridden.”
“The lesson will have to wait.”
“Why? I’m good, Lucian. Honest. Don’t put it off for nothing. Let’s do something…normal. Please.”
He placed the fork down on the table. “I almost killed you, Yasmeen.”
“No.” She dropped the toast on the plate and grabbed his face. “You didn’t. You wouldn’t have.”
“I would have choked the life out of you if Markus had not stopped me.”
That made her pause. “What?”
“Markus came to me. He stopped me from crushing your windpipe.”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t have. You would have woken up first. I know it.” She swatted his hand away when he feathered the tips of his fingers down her throat. She needed to distract him. “Did you, uh, take advantage and visit with him? Did you tell him how much you miss him? Did he tell you not to let his death do this to you? Did he? Did you talk to him, Lucian? He would have told you. If he loved you, he would have told you not to hurt yourself by sending me away.” She wanted to cover his face. “You are, aren’t you? I can see that look in your eyes. Don’t send me away. Please. I don’t want to leave you.” She didn’t. Not ever. “I thought I did, but I don’t.”
She shoved off him and stumbled to her feet, her body starting to shake.
“Please, don’t. You don’t know how many times I’ve seen that look in my lifetime. I hate it. I hate it. What did I do to have it aimed at me so often?” She coughed the lump out of her throat. “I don’t want to see it in your beautiful eyes.” She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself as she spun away when it didn’t leave those amber depths she wanted to look into every day for the rest of her life. “Don’t send me back, Lucian. I love you, and I know I can help you. Please let me. Please,” she begged roughly, her throat aching with the need to cry.
She allowed him a full minute, finding encouragement in his silence.
“I love you,” she repeated in a stronger tone, finding it easier to say the second time. “What happened is something we’ll get past. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you through this. If you’ll let me.”
Aside from Miranda, she’d never said those three words to a single soul. She turned to see what Lucian’s reaction was to them.
She was alone.
TWENTY-SIX
A few hours later, Lucian stood in the open doorway of the castle, cold air pouring in from outside. He watched Sorin bring Yasmeen down the last few steps and across the foyer, and nodded sharply when Sorin said he’d wait in the car.
Yasmeen didn’t say anything. She just stood there and looked up at him with an expression that never should have entered her eyes, but must have so many times in her short life. The evidence of his violence against her was covered by a silky black scarf that perfectly matched her black outfit of boots, leggings, sweater, and wrap. She appeared to be in mourning. Weren’t they all?
He bent and pressed his lips to her forehead, taking only a small portion of her scent in because his breathing was oddly labored. “I wish you a beautiful life, Yasmeen.” When he dropped his hand, the collar he’d locked around her neck was in it, a small key fitted into the hidden lock.
Her tears fell. “Lucian,” she whispered as she came up on her toes and nearly strangled him with a hug that was almost childish in its desperation. “Why won’t you le
t me help you?”
“Because there is no help for me, draga.”
“Yes, there is. I know there is.” She stroked his cheeks, and he felt an odd sense of wonder as he studied her distress. Because it wasn’t for her. She was feeling this for him. “I’m sorry I told you how I feel. Please forgive me and let me stay with you.”
He put her away from him and took her hands off his face. Hearing her utter the words that had sent him fleeing from the kitchen earlier had felt as if someone had driven a spike right through the center of his body. The impact had sent cracks spider-webbing outward, and his protective shell had been crumbling away faster than ever.
“You are forgiven. But, no. It is time for you to go. I have realized, as others have before me…” It was time to end this once and for all. He looked right into her exquisite face and delivered a cruelty even he hadn’t thought himself capable of, but one he was only now realizing was necessary. He discharged the weapon she’d herself had given him. “You are just not what I am looking for, Yasmeen.”
It was as if her beautiful body turned to glass and he could see streams of pain shoot out from every emotional scar she’d ever received. Her lashes came down in a prolonged blink. When they swept up again, it was to reveal a stark pain created from a lifetime of rejection.
“Go,” he forced out. He nudged her out of the way and reached for the door handle so he could pull it closed. “Sorin will make sure you get home.”
She nodded, looking disoriented as she dropped her head and turned away.
Lucian, what are you doing? Let her in. Accept what she is offering you. Please.
Like a blow to the head, Markus’s tortured voice came to him as surely as if his baby brother was standing next to him. Moisture filled his eyes as loss devoured him.
If this is what I fear it is, I do not want another installment of what people consider happiness, my brother. I will not survive it when it ends either by my hand or someone else’s. So I am saving myself from something far worse than what I feel when I sit alone at night and miss you.
Grievous (Wanted Men Book 5) Page 27