Page 96

Lucien

T he sound of the glass shattering was incredibly satisfying.

As was the blood running down Luc’s fist, even if the myriad of cuts would be healed before the hour was through.

He’d have to compel his way out of paying for the damage to the mirror, but that could wait until he checked out of the hotel.

Luc stared at his jagged, broken reflection, baring his teeth at his own image.

Coward. Spineless, worthless coward.

He’d run from the human. Again . He’d let himself be intimidated by the prospect of…

meeting the parents? Run off by the first mention of easy domesticity.

Luc hadn’t been around anyone’s parents in—well, in his entire time as a vampire.

It wasn’t his habit to meet the families of his meals before biting into them.

But Jamie had wanted Luc to meet his family . To—what? Drink afternoon tea, chat about local sports teams or the weather?

You’re in America, you idiot. Nobody drinks afternoon tea.

It was incomprehensible to him. Jamie wanted Luc…enmeshed…in his life. Wanted him to see his favorite places, meet his favorite people. He wanted Luc for some reason. All of him, it seemed.

Resident monster. Vengeful psychopath. Destructive killer.

Nobody actually wanted all that in their life, did they?

Go back. Go back. Go back . Jamie. We want Jamie .

The monster’s chanting was a relentless litany in his mind.

Now it fucking spoke. Around their human it had been quiet as a fucking mouse, as if mesmerized by him.

Like the young man was some kind of goddamn snake charmer.

And maybe he was. Maybe, along with the Sight, he had some secret powers of persuasion.

Because none of Luc’s actions made any sense where this human was concerned.

Luc had thought, with Jamie knowing what he was—accepting it, even—that he’d turn the young man immediately. And why wouldn’t he? He had his mate. What he’d been searching for all these decades, right there in his grasp.

So why couldn’t he just take it? Take him.

But Jamie was so…vibrant. So alive. The way he charmed the people around him, smiling that gorgeous fucking smile at everyone, laughing with his whole goddamn body. And he had a family, apparently. One he loved and trusted enough to share his life with. To share Luc with.

Could Luc take that away from him? How much of a monster could he really be? How much of a monster could he be to his soulmate?

How far was he willing to take being the villain of the story?

Freshly turned vampires couldn’t be trusted to be around humans in the beginning, after their transition. They were too bloodthirsty, too impulsive. Too deadly. Luc knew that truth all too well. To turn Jamie would be to take him away from everything he knew and loved.

Luc looked around the room for something else to break. He considered the window, the flimsy little hotel desk chair. But ultimately he stayed right where he was, shoulders drooping in resignation.

For so long, he’d been devoured by anger.

By vengeance. By envy. He was comfortable with every one of those bitter emotions.

But now he was consumed with want . He wanted to touch Jamie.

Wanted to run his fingers through that messy green hair again.

Wanted to sink his cock into that rosy mouth.

Wanted to fuck him until he begged for mercy.

But Luc was afraid if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He wouldn’t just fuck—he’d bite. He wouldn’t just bite—he’d drain. And he wouldn’t just drain—he’d turn.

Would Jamie hate him then? For snuffing out all that vibrant life? For chaining him to a monster he didn’t know the first thing about? And what did it matter to Luc if Jamie hated him, if Luc’s progression to a feral state was halted? Since when had he started caring about other people’s feelings ?

Luc sidestepped the broken vanity and made his way into the bathroom, using the sink there to wash the blood off his hands. His monster was snarling and growling and just generally giving Luc a massive fucking headache with its ceaseless noise.

Hush, beast , he ordered. We’re not going back. I don’t trust you with him .

We’ll be good. We’ll be so good. Gentle. Patient. We won’t bite. We won’t turn.

Luc took that in—those pleading promises—staring at his own black eyes in the bathroom mirror, this reflective surface unblemished and unbroken. His monster did a lot of things. It raged. It cajoled. It wheedled.

But it never lied.

Luc couldn’t fucking believe it. This was the same internal force that had urged him incessantly to hunt, maim, and kill for centuries. And now it was promising…gentleness? Patience?

Did you take our flower’s request so seriously? he asked. To not make my life miserable any longer?

He pictured it in his mind again. That unbelievable moment, Jamie holding his face with those long, slender fingers, staring so intently into Luc’s soul. Asking the monster to be good for him.

Luc received no answer from within. Just that restless, tortured feeling of his monster not getting its way. Like Luc’s very skin was going to come off from the internal pressure.

Leaving Jamie’s side was driving the monster wild.

Was that it, then? Would the monster actually listen to Jamie?

That could…change things. If Luc’s monster could be tamed, then it was just Luc who had to be trusted with Jamie’s well-being. Luc who had to be patient, who had to be gentle.

Well, not too gentle , he thought with a smirk, recalling the way Jamie had so happily gagged himself on Luc’s cock the night before. His flower may be breakable, but he was hardly delicate.

Luc could do this.

He straightened his spine, letting out a deep breath. And then his thoughts turned somewhere he didn’t usually let them go. He thought of his old friend.

Roman.

Someone Luc very much tried not to let into his mind these days. But Roman had been patient when he’d met his lovely human. He hadn’t turned Danny right away. He’d let the boy develop feelings first. He’d let the boy love him.

Until Luc had forced his hand, that was.

Were Roman and Danny still in Hyde Park? Luc had made it a point not to track them, not to follow up. He was afraid if he gave in to any of the old impulses, he’d give in to all of them, tormenting Roman just because it soothed that angry, injured part of himself.

Could Luc be as patient as Roman had been? Jamie wanted Luc already; that much was certain. The human kept offering himself up on a goddamn platter, for fuck’s sake. But could he grow to love Luc? Enough to choose Luc over his human life?

No one had ever chosen Luc before. Not unless they were under incredible duress (memories flashed through his mind—Roman on that battlefield, bloody and broken, asked to choose between death or a companion, not knowing what he was really agreeing to).

The thought that someone might made Luc’s heart feel like it was going to stop in his chest.

Luc made a decision then, moving to throw on a fresh shirt before inspecting his hands to make sure all the blood was gone.

He would go out tonight. The sun had long since set.

If he was going to play nice with humanity, for Jamie’s sake, then he needed to make sure the monster was sated.

Luc couldn’t have it urging him to snap someone’s neck when Jamie was introducing him to his loved ones. Luc needed to kill.

Which meant he needed to suss out the evil in this town.

He stopped at the front desk on his way out, where the same old man who’d checked him in was on duty now.

Luc lowered his sunglasses to meet the man’s rheumy eyes, deciding to kill two proverbial birds with one stone.

“There’s been an accident in my room,” he said, pushing a thread of compulsion into his voice.

“A faulty vanity. No need to replace it until after I leave. You’ll let the staff know. ”

“Faulty vanity,” the man—Gustav, his name tag read—repeated slowly.

Luc nodded approvingly, still holding his gaze. “Tell me where you’re afraid to go in this town. Tell me where the bad people are.”

Luc had thought the concierge would perhaps name a dive bar, some sleazy spot with unruly patrons.

But the man had led him to a residential neighborhood.

A nice, affluent-looking neighborhood at that, all expensive cars and meticulous landscaping.

Apparently, where Gustave was afraid to go in this town centered around an old neighbor.

One he’d never been fully comfortable around.

One he’d once seen systematically pulling the legs off a tarantula, with a dead look in his eyes the concierge had never forgotten.

Luc grinned to himself as he exited his vehicle. A serial killer in the making, perhaps? His blood heated at the thought. He’d let the monster smell him out.

His monster had a knack with evil. A way of sussing out the worst in people.

For over half a century now, it had been leading Luc to prey worth killing.

People he could drain dry without remorse.

That was their compromise, their covenant with each other.

Luc would give in to the monster’s urges—violence, blood, death—but only for people who deserved its wrath.

He told himself it slowed the descent into madness, to draw these lines. But who really knew?

Gustav had given him an exact address, one the old man had never forgotten. Luc lurked in the shadows near the house, getting a feel for how many humans might be inside. He was too far away to distinguish heartbeats, but he could make out noises from within the home.

His monster had perked up at the thought of the hunt, momentarily halting its incessant whining for Jamie. Sure, Luc’s skin felt too tight, and his chest ached in a way he wasn’t very familiar with, but the beast within was at least sensing something else it could indulge in here.