Until the Sun Falls from the Sky (8 page)

I quieted.

“I took too much from you last night,” he murmured against my lips. “You need to rest.”

My mouth opened under his and I began to speak, “I –”

I stopped speaking when his tongue darted in and touched mine, startling me. It was a fleeting touch but even so, his open eyes kept mine captive and I registered a distinct, excited flurry in the region of my belly.

Now.

Exactly.

What was
that?

A flurry? Caused by a kiss from my near-murderer?

That proved it. I was deranged.

“Rest,” he whispered against my mouth.

Before I knew it, he was gone.

* * * * *

I opened my eyes again when I sensed movement in the room.

It was light, I could still see the sun shining around the curtains so it was not yet “tonight” which meant, I hoped, the movement wasn’t Lucien.

It wasn’t. It was Edwina tiptoeing around the bed.

“I’m awake,” I announced, cautiously getting up on an elbow.

She jumped at the sound of my voice and whirled to face me.

“You’re awake,” she repeated.

I nodded, focusing on her. She was a beautiful, older woman, older than my mother. How I knew this I didn’t know because her face was nearly unlined but I guessed it to be true. Her hair was thick, long and white and it looked soft. It was pulled back in a ponytail at her nape. Like yesterday, she was wearing a gauzy outfit, a swirly, peachy-pink skirt and beige-pink flowy blouse cinched with an equally flowy scarf belt low on her waist.

She looked like a stylish hippie. Strange but true.

“Lucien spent the night,” she declared on a strangled whisper.

I kept staring at her.

Then I asked, “What?”

“Lucien,” she said then spoke no more.

“Yes, Lucien –” I prompted.

“
Spent the night,
” she breathed in what sounded like deep surprise.

God, she was weird.

“Yes, he did,” I replied slowly.

“Why?” she asked, still in a breathy, stunned voice.

Why did Lucien do anything? Because Lucien wanted to, that was why.

“He just did,” I answered.

“I don’t… he never…” She stopped then pivoted jerkily and walked briskly to the windows, throwing open the curtains as she wittered on. “This is unheard of, unprecedented. I don’t know what to say. I can’t even –”

“Edwina,” I cut her off.

She turned again and the minute her eyes hit me they grew so big, they nearly popped out of her head and she gasped. Loudly.

At the same time her hand flew to her mouth.

I knew I’d passed out before I’d been able to pull a comb through my hair and take off my heavy makeup but even what I knew was the sight of me the morning after her fervid ministrations couldn’t induce
that
response.

“What?” I asked in a frightened voice.

“Your throat,” she whispered from behind her hand.

My hand flew to my throat. It still felt that weird numb and Edwina’s horrified stare was making me strangely embarrassed.

I covered the area Lucien fed from last night and pushed up from the bed. I was still lightheaded but I fought it, put my feet on the floor, got up and headed to the bathroom.

My bedroom…

No. Strike that.

Lucien’s
bedroom (I wasn’t going to claim
anything
he gave me) was the biggest bedroom I’d ever had. Painted a warm blush it had a king-sized bed covered in a decadent, fluffy, down comforter with a slightly darker blush, cotton-sateen cover with beautiful embroidery heavy at the bottom of the coverlet and snaking to lighter up the bed. Stacks of downy pillows of all sizes from king, to European to standard in cases and shams that ranged from the deepest to the most delicate blush adorned its head, some of them smooth, some of the embroidered. There was a chaise lounge in a corner covered in cream velvet, edged with gleaming dark, intricately carved wood. Positioned strategically next to its only arm was a small, ornate, circular table. Matching stately but comfy-looking armchairs, each with their own tall, plush, round, tassel-bottomed, button-topped ottomans were arranged in another corner. The chairs shared a carved wood table. A charming writing desk with a laptop computer and stylish desk accessories faced the room from the opposite corner to the chairs.

I didn’t see any of this.

Yesterday afternoon after I’d arrived, I’d inspected the entirety of the lavish cage Lucien had provided for me. I perused the six-bedroom house from top to bottom. Why he thought I’d need six bedrooms with a gigantic kitchen including breakfast nook and comfy seating area, a formal dining room, a sitting room, a living room, a family room, a study, four and a half baths… the list went on… I’d never know.

At that moment I didn’t want to know. All I could think about was my throat.

I went into the bathroom. Another huge room with two sinks, a big mirror, a large, blush-marbled tub set in a platform, under a stained glass window (if you can believe), separate shower cubicle with multiple heads (some
on
the walls
) and the toilet had its own room.

I turned to the mirror and slowly, wincing slightly to prepare myself for the mutilation I’d see, took my hand from my throat.

Then I blinked.

There was only an insignificant, inch long, slightly glistening, pinkish scar.

“What on earth?” I whispered.

“I know,” Edwina said, materializing behind me. “Can you believe it?”

“No,” I gaped at the non-wound, remembering the tearing sensation last night, the pain, the powerful suction from Lucien’s mouth, “I can’t believe it.”

“I can’t believe it hasn’t healed,” Edwina breathed.

My eyes flew to hers in the mirror. “What?”

“It hasn’t healed. How can that be? They always heal before morning. Usually sooner.”

My mouth dropped open.

I snapped it shut moments before asking, “Are you joking?”

Her head quirked to the side. “Of course not. You know that.”

No, I didn’t know that.

I’d been expelled from blinkety-blank Vampire Studies and the time I’d been there I didn’t pay a lick of attention.

I moved away from the mirror, walking toward the huge dressing room that was on the opposite side to the bedroom.

This room was also enormous, the walls filled with rails, shelves, drawers and a full-length, three-way mirror. There was enough space to house the wardrobes of a family of five. It even included a lavish, built-in dressing table with dozens of drawers, a big mirror surrounded by Hollywood starlet lights and fronted by a blush-velvet padded stool. No kidding, the place was out of a movie.

Most of it was un-utilized as I’d only brought two suitcases and a carry-on with me. My mother and aunties were packing up whatever else I’d need to be shipped. Even when they did, it still wouldn’t fill the space and Lucien was seeing to the renting of my place while I was servicing him.

As I stormed into the dressing room, I announced, “I need to call my mother.”

I walked to the dressing table and had to put a hand out to steady myself. I was still feeling woozy and weak. I needed food. And, as much as I hated to give it to the guy, Lucien was right, I needed rest.

“Um…dear…” Edwina said behind me as I caught my breath, controlled the dizziness and reached for my purse to get my cell phone.

I ignored her and started digging through my purse.

“Dear…” Edwina called from closer.

“Where is it?” I muttered, “I’m sure it’s –”

“Leah,” Edwina said from beside me, “Lucien told me you weren’t to phone anyone.”

My head snapped up and I looked at her. “Sorry?”

“Direct orders. No calls.”

“Why not?” I asked.

She shrugged looking uncomfortable.

I looked back down at my purse and kept digging, “Well, he can order all he likes. I’m still going to –”

“You won’t find it. Lucien took your phone.”

My head snapped up again and I stared.

All I could do was stare. My heart had stopped beating which was pretty strange since my blood was boiling.

Finally I found my voice. “He
took
my
phone?
”

“Yes, and he told me to lock away all the others.”

“Did you?”

She nodded.

I straightened and faced her. “Well, unlock one.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“Lucien would be angry.”

“I don’t care,” I snapped.

Her face grew pale. It didn’t take a mind reader to know she didn’t want to do anything that would make Lucien angry.

I could understand that. He could be a pretty freaking scary guy. And, I didn’t know her, but I still didn’t want to scare her.

Thwarted again by the hated
Lucien
.

“I’m going to
kill
him,” I bit out, my emotion got the better of me and I had to lean against the dressing table to stay standing.

“You need food. Lucien said the minute you woke, I needed to feed you.”

“Lucien can go to hell,” I clipped.

She studied me a moment, surprise behind her eyes, her head angled to the side like a bird’s.

“I think something’s not right here,” she announced.

“You
think?
” I asked sarcastically.

“Why are you angry with Lucien? No one is ever angry with Lucien. Well, not no one. He has enemies, of course. But not his concubines. Never his concubines. They all love him.”

Oh please.

“I’m not like the others,” I proclaimed.

“I’m sensing that,” she agreed on a comprehending nod.

I dropped my head and lifted my hand to my forehead.

“I think I need space,” I told her, not wanting to be rude but I did.

In this moment of tumult in my life, I hated to admit it, but I really needed my mother even though she and her ancestry of rabidly adoring vampire concubines had gotten me into this mess.

Suddenly, I felt Edwina’s hands gentle on me as she pulled me away from the dressing table.

“What you need is bed and food, in that order,” she declared.

I went with her because I didn’t have the strength to fight.

I blamed that on Lucien mainly because it was his fault.

And I filed it away in my Why I Hate Lucien Vault.

Edwina put me to bed. She came back with a tray covered in food half an hour later, time I spent organizing all the many,
many
files in my Why I Hate Lucien Vault. A stack of light, fluffy, buttermilk pancakes drenched in melting, real butter and warmed syrup. Crisp bacon. Succulent berries. Grilled sausage links.

I ate it without complaint.

Normally I would never eat that much food as food like that, especially in those amounts, magically expanded to ten times its size and weight before it settled on my ass.

But I needed my strength. For tonight, I would be battling
Lucien
.

That Night

Lucien drove toward Leah’s house feeling a welcome sense of anticipation after a not very good day.

She was, he knew, going to be cold or furious but he couldn’t care less.

Whatever she was, it would not be eager, it would not be sycophantic, it would not be adoring and it would not be complaisant.

It would be something different, something he relished, something he had not had in a very long time.

That morning after he arrived at the home he shared with his mate, Katrina had been waiting for him.

The minute he closed the door behind him, she unleashed the fury that he knew she’d kept pent up all night waiting for his return.

Even though he was still furious with her for the plot she’d attempted to unleash at Leah’s Selection, she had every right to be angry. A vampire did not sleep with his concubine, not in any sense of that word. He or she didn’t spend the night.

Goodly portions of it, maybe. The entirety of it, never.

Vampires slept with their vampire mates in every sense of that word.

Things might, and often did (and The Dominion turned a blind eye), get out-of-hand at Feasts but not with concubines. The lines were drawn, the boundaries understood and no one, not even Lucien, could break them.

He ignored his mate, something he’d been doing a great deal for the past decade, walked upstairs straight to their bedroom, disrobed and got in the shower.

She followed, not ceasing for even a breath in her blistering tirade.

Lucien was angry with himself for losing control with Leah and nearly taking her life, something which he would miss, even knowing her such a short time. Not only because her blood was heavenly but also because she didn’t intend to grow up until she was ninety-three years old.
That
was a concept he found intriguing and very much wanted the time to explore.