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He knows. The bond isn’t one-way, and he’s feeding it, pouring more into it, not just memories, but images. Suggestions. He’s lounging like he’s bored, like he’s detached, but there’s a lazy fire in the way he looks at me from beneath his lashes. Like he’s daring me to fall apart.
I almost do when his magic brushes mine. Soft at first. Then firmer. A caress just under the surface, the kind that no one else in the room can feel. Like he’s running his fingers down the inside of my thigh.
My jaw tightens.
And then, he thinks at me. Not words. Worse.
A visual.
His mouth on my stomach. His tongue tracing up. Teeth scraping gently beneath my breast.
I dig my fingernails into my thigh under the table and exhale through my nose like that will do anything to fix this.
He shifts slightly and my eyes, traitorous, betraying me with zero remorse, track the movement of his hand. It drags up his stomach like he’s scratching lazily at his skin, and I see it again. The shirt. The abs. That line of ink. The way he looked at me last night like I was his last meal.
Gods, I should leave. I should scream at him. I should do something.
But instead I clear my throat and shift in my chair, biting the inside of my cheek as Elias catches my eye and winks.
The bastard winks.
Lucien stops mid-sentence and looks at me like I’ve grown another head. “Is there something you’d like to add, Luna?”
Elias doesn’t even flinch.
I force my voice to work. “No. Sorry. Just… tired.”
He smirks. Liar, he mouths.
And now, all I can do is pray no one notices that I’m blushing like a virgin and burning from the inside out while Elias Dain invades my brain with soft porn.