Page 57 of Necromance
“And the letter,” I continued quietly, ashamed at my accusations. I remembered that vision clearly. Lucien reading the letter and Serena’s signature on the bottom before age and decay had erased it.
I cleared my throat. “The letter was from Serena too.”
I left out the vision of my grandmother, unable to face the betrayal I knew he would feel… not yet. I couldn’t.
He stared at me, his expression neutral. I had hoped he would grin or tease me for accusing him of being a rake, but he didn’t. His gaze dropped to the floor as he crossed his arms over his chest. The silence reached on and I shifted uneasily.
“I am sorry,” I finally managed, filling the silence with my weak apology. Sorry for everything.
He shrugged, a tight smile playing on his lips. His eyes softened just a little, though the tension in the room didn’t dissipate. “Iknow, little witch,” he replied. His voice had an edge of sadness to it that clutched at my guilty heart. All hesitation, all the guilt, all the lies I was keeping faded away.
My feet moved without my permission, closing the distance between us. I reached up, my hand hesitating for a moment before I cupped his face. I thought he might pull away at my touch, but he didn’t.
His dark, penetrating eyes held mine, searching, curious.
Without thinking, I stood on my tiptoes and brushed my lips against his. He stiffened— but for only a moment.
His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me against his hard, warm body. His mouth moved over mine softly, gently at first. Then, he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping between my lips, tangling with mine. A sound deep in his chest vibrating against my breasts, sending hot shivers down my spine.
My hands tangled in his hair and I pressed into him further, desperate to be closer. His mouth left mine and I nearly cried out from the loss, but it stuck in my throat when his lips found the curve of my jaw, trailing warm, heated kisses down my neck.
“Lucien,” I breathed, his name low and husky on my lips.
He stilled, his name breaking the spell. Slowly, he placed small kisses on my neck then pulled back, resting his chin on top of my head as he held me to his chest.
“I’m sorry—“
“Stop,” I said, still trying to catch my breath. “Don’t apologize.”
He smoothed my hair with his hand and I felt his lips brush over my head.
“I remember other things too,” I admitted, tilting my head back to look up at him. “I may have been influenced by the potion, but…” I hesitated, my cheeks warming.
He searched my eyes, his heavy with something dark, passionate, hungry. “But what?”
“I meant what I asked for.”
His gaze fell to my lips briefly before his mouth found mine again with one, gentle, lingering kiss before I felt his arms tighten slightly as my feet left the floor. I blinked, the world falling away as we moved through space and time. When I opened my eyes again, we were in my bedchamber.
I sucked in a deep breath, but before I could shake off the disoriented feeling, his lips were on mine again. I melted against him, a small sigh escaping me. Whatever would come, could wait. I wanted this… needed to savor one last memory with him before my betrayal tore us apart.
The future be damned.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
His hands were still cradling my face, his touch a tether in the storm raging inside me as he pulled back, his thumb traced the curve of my cheekbone, a wisp of a touch. He searched my face as if collecting the memory of it to savor. The moment burned into my very soul. Every lingering touch, this was it. We didn’t have much time left. Whether from my inability to break his curse or my lies, the fact remained the same.
I was going to lose him.
The thought made a fresh sob burn the back of my throat. The realization struck me like a sudden blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. I loved him.
I was in love with a man who barely existed anymore. A man whose body lay hidden somewhere in the cold bowels of this cursed place, while only a flickering shade of his soul lingered beside me night after night. A man I barely knew.
And yet… Every bit of him felt engraved in me.
The way his voice dipped when he was amused, soft and velvet-smooth. The way his eyes darkened when he was angry or afraid or pretending not to care. The way he looked at me when he forgot to guard himself.
Like I mattered.
