Page 4 of Lucien

He wasn’t even sure he could tell the difference anymore.

Well, he hadn’t gotten very far at all, had he?

Luc leaned against his car, the hood still warm from his drive. He watched the foot traffic on the street ahead, his jeans-clad legs crossed.

Tucson.

Still in fucking Arizona. He’d thought he’d be crossing the border tonight, with the way he kept getting pulled south, but his monster had other ideas. And now here he was, still in the goddamn desert.

Nonetheless, there was a certain appeal. A—dare he say—charmhere that Phoenix had been lacking. He’d pulled into a street with rows of adorable one-story adobe houses, their front yards a mix of spiky desert plants and decorative rocks.

No Corsica, surely. But cute enough.

The houses were right on the edge of a small downtown, and a good number of people were out and about for so late in the night, more than half of them looking like drunk college students—tipsy infants toddling around looking for the right place to grind against each other before the bars closed for the night. One such group passed by him now, the young men rowdy, the young women wearing tight, short dresses, miles of tanned legs on display.

Luc grimaced as one of the men—clad in a loose tank top and board shorts—bumped into him, displacing Luc’s crossed legs.

“Whoa, dude. Sorry ’bout that.” The man used a hand on Luc’s arm to steady himself, flashing him a smile, the expression freezing on his young face the moment he got a better look.

“Dude. Freaky eyes.”

Luc bared his teeth in the approximation of a grin. “Are they?”

The guy nodded, patting Luc’s arm again, his own eyes glazed with liquor. Or, judging by the look of him, cheap beer. “Yeah, but that’s okay. You do you, bro.”

Luc resisted—just barely—the urge to snap the man’s fingers.Bro?There was only one man Luc had ever called brother, and that man had forsaken him long ago. Driven away by Luc’s rage, by the monster under his skin that called to him at that very moment to erase this buffoon from existence.

But Luc held it together.Again.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as the young man swayed off. The mix of perfumes and body sprays here was giving him a headache and—more importantly—making it hard to grasp onto the one scent he wanted to focus on. There was that cinnamon smell again that kept pulling at the edge of his consciousness, just strong enough to distract him, too faint to pinpoint where it was actually coming from.

A drink. He needed a drink. And not of the hot blood pumping under these coeds’ skin. The alcoholic kind, preferably strong enough to strip paint. Maybe there was a decent bar here, one with passable whiskey. Or would that be too much to ask from a place like this?

Luc reached into a pocket for his sunglasses, the ones he often wore regardless of night or day. He’d had enough of humans staring at him. He took off down the street in the direction of downtown, where the revelers seemed to be coming from. Hopefully where that scent was coming from as well. Maybe—just maybe—he’d get a special treat tonight. A meal that wasn’t the worst of the worst of humanity. Maybe this time it would be a beautiful human, someone small and pliable. Someone Luc could sink his cock as well as his teeth into.

Do you really trust yourself enough to go that far?

Luc didn’t answer his own question. He just walked until his monster pulled him to a stop at a dive bar on the corner, only a few blocks from where he’d started. There was that delicious cinnamon smell again, stronger than before.

Something is here, Luc’s monster crooned.Something delicious. Something just for us.

Luc was about to enter the dimly lit establishment when he realized the scent wasn’t coming frominsidethe bar.

It was coming from out back.

He made his way around the corner on silent feet, back into the alleyway bordering the bar. His monster tensed with anticipation.Herewas the source of the delicious scent. At last.

A young man was there, leaning against the brick wall of the building with his eyes closed, a cigarette in hand, one knee bent with his foot planted behind him. He had on ratty, torn black jeans, and a worn gray T-shirt with cuffed sleeves. His hair, which hung almost to his shoulders in messy disarray, was…green. A deep green with flashes of dark roots peeking through.

My eyes used to be green once.

Luc wasn’t sure whythatwas the thought that came to him, looking at the young man.

Luc couldn’t stop looking.

He wasn’t sure why. The stranger was handsome, sure enough, with a smooth, sharp jawline, tawny skin, and thick sooty eyelashes any woman would kill for. But he wasn’t Luc’s type. Not at all. Luc preferred delicate, refined lovers.

Not wiry alleyway punks with nicotine addictions.

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