Page 89

Lucien

L uc had run. From a human. A mere boy . Like a complete, utter coward.

His monster was furious, raging at him for leaving the alleyway. But for the first time in a very long time, Luc was finding it easy to keep control over himself. He didn’t turn back.

We would have hurt him , he argued, trying to appease the beast within.

He had no doubt about the truth of his words. The minute their lips had touched—his and this man’s, this stranger’s —a tsunami of need had crashed over him. Luc had wanted…more.

He’d wanted to bite the strange young man. To sink his teeth into that slender neck. To fuck him into the wall. To claim his very soul.

We could have , his monster whispered, a new tactic from the roars of anger Luc had been ignoring. You could go back right now. Taste him again. Turn him. A new toy for us. A companion.

“If you don’t shut your trap, I’ll drive us straight out of this godforsaken town,” Luc snarled .

A woman walking past gave him a startled glance—talking out loud to his monster, a ridiculous move—but Luc paid her no mind. He needed silence in his head. He needed to think .

His monster had other ideas. Isn’t this what you’ve been searching for? Your flower in the desert. Your mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

Christ Almighty, the beast was actually chanting . Luc was going to lose it.

His monster wasn’t wrong. He had been searching. For decades. He’d been hunting for that fated soul to tether him to his humanity. Ever since Luc had first learned mates existed—that the descent into a feral state could be avoided by a bond to another—he’d been desperate for it.

A way to live forever. A way to avoid eternal damnation.

A way to never end up alone again.

But he hadn’t accounted for the power of that first encounter. All that searching, and at the moment of meeting, he’d been…terrified. Who’s the scared little lamb now?

Luc was a being on the edge, barely in control of his own faculties. How could he expect to accept a mate without crushing him in his overly greedy grasp? Would the monster even let itself be tamed?

Nothing to do but ask the beast itself.

And you would allow that? he asked his monster, keeping his words in his own head this time. A mate? To be shackled by a human?

The monster inside him was silent for a long time. I want him , it finally answered. It almost sounded like a plea.

Well, what the fuck was Luc supposed to do with that?

Luc hadn’t always had full conversations with his monster, like a fucking lunatic. It had used to be a series of urges, long ago, and then it had gradually grown to simple commands.

Feed. Fuck. Hunt. Kill.

But as he’d lost his way, giving in more and more to anger and greed and a lust for blood, the monster inside him had gotten more…

vocal. Persuasive. A snake in the proverbial grass.

Luc couldn’t tell if it and he were melding together or becoming more distinct.

It was hard to know when they so often wanted the same thing.

Like this young man. This desert flower.

Luc wanted him too.

He made it to his car somehow, his mind a hazy fog. He stood outside the driver door, taking in his own reflection with glazed eyes. What had the stranger seen to make him smile like that?

Something beyond the superficial, apparently. Because, Lord…what a fucking mess.

Luc was still handsome, no doubt about it.

It wasn’t arrogant to say, when he’d never in his multiple centuries of living had any trouble finding a partner for the night.

But his thick dark hair, with its permanent smattering of gray at the temples, was overly long, his usually artfully stubbled facial hair overgrown.

His clothing was rumpled, and was that… blood on his collar?

Shameful. Absolutely shameful.

This wouldn’t do.

He thought back to the young man as he climbed into his vehicle, holding a picture of him in his mind’s eye. That wild green hair, the chipped black polish Luc had noted on his nails. His mouth had tasted of cinnamon but also of ash.

He wasn’t who Luc had ever imagined for himself.

I’ve been waiting for you, you know . The words rang in his head. He couldn’t get them out. Nor the image of that open smile, that sweetly crooked incisor.

Why would anyone smile at Luc like that?

He’d thought once, some decades ago, that he’d found his mate. He’d convinced himself that attraction, admiration, and the first stirrings of love were the signs of a soul bond.

Victoria.

Beautiful, elegant, wild.

A perfect match, he’d thought. But he’d been wrong. He’d fooled himself—himself but no one else—and he’d lost it all. The woman and his chosen brother all in one fell swoop.

But his attraction to Victoria hadn’t felt like this . This gut punch, this overwhelming pull .

Luc let out a deep breath, trying to shake off his reaction to the stranger. After a quick search on his phone and a fifteen-minute drive to the outskirts of the desert, he pulled into the parking lot of a massive hotel.

“Welcome to the Oasis,” the elderly gentleman manning the counter greeted as he entered.

Luc didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He locked eyes with the man, after removing his sunglasses. “You’ll give me your best room. Indefinite stay. No ID or credit card required.”

“Our best,” the man repeated. “Yes, of course.” He started fiddling with the computer in front of him.

“Have whiskey sent up to my room,” Luc ordered, then paused. “And I need a salon. The best you know. One that caters to men.”

He was in his room—a massive suite with an adjoining living space, a small kitchen he would never use, and a king-size bed Luc was currently sprawled over—with a whiskey in hand twenty minutes later.

His monster had been uncharacteristically quiet as he made his moves, clearly sensing that victory lay in the waiting.

“We’ll do this on my terms,” Luc muttered, downing a gulp of his drink.

He wasn’t being noble, not at all. Just…cautious. However pleased this stranger appeared to have been to see him, he’d obviously been mistaken. He didn’t know who Luc was. What he was.

And Luc worried if he rushed things—if he scared this little desert flower off—it could botch the mating bond.

He didn’t know enough about how it worked to be sure.

Did the human need to love him before he was turned for the bond to solidify?

If the young man despised and feared him and Luc turned him anyway, would they both be rewarded with an eternity of misery?

And what hope did Luc have for an alternative? Because who in their right mind would want to be shackled to a monster?

Luc’s life had been hell for nearly a century, and it was a hell of his own making. He’d hurt people he loved. He’d killed people who only maybe deserved it. He’d ruined lives.

Luc didn’t deserve a mate.

Luc didn’t deserve anything good at all.

But who was he really kidding? Luc smirked to himself as he took another sip, his monster purring in satisfaction as it sensed his capitulation. Because Luc would take the good anyway. He’d find his little desert flower again and make him his.

What was the point of being the villain if he didn’t get what he wanted in the end?