Page 44 of Forsaken Devotion: Part 2
I sat up in the plush bed, blinking sleepiness out of my eyes. It took a moment for me to yank myself out of my disorientation. Lucian’s bedroom . . . Last night roared to the forefront.
Where was he?
And that bang—had he been hurt? I shoved to my feet and ran out of the bedroom.
Lucian was trying to keep his leg straight while bending to pick up the broken mug from the floor. He gripped the single crutch in a hard grip. He didn’t have shoes on, and he was right next to the broken ceramic.
“What are you doing?” I snapped, hurrying forward.
His eyes flew to me and followed me until I crouched to collect the smaller pieces onto the larger one. It was fortunate it was just a mug.
“You should have woken me up if you wanted tea.”
“I’ll clean it up,” he groused.
Ignoring him, I carefully collected a pile of the largest pieces.
“Don’t move.” I jabbed my finger at him and rushed to get his slide tucked under the bed. With one in hand, I returned and dropped it on the floor before him. He slid his foot in and grabbed the crutch, leaning on it.
“Just leave it, I’ll have someone come clean it up.”
I arched my neck to meet his earnest hazel eyes. My heart responded, making me quickly drop my gaze to the mess on the floor.
A tray rested on the slim hallway table with a flower on it. I crouched and plopped the wet tea bag on the pile.
My heart throbbed like I’d been stabbed.
Warm chamomile tea, the flower . . . He’d been bringing it for me. Emotion swelled to a suffocating extent. I stood and cleared my throat. Lucian watched me, his mouth pinched, disapproval clear on his face.
“Let’s get you back to bed,” I mumbled, pressing against his side. He slid his arm around my shoulders.
A knock came from the door, insistent and loud.
“I’ll get that.”
“Not without me,” Lucian barked.
The rapping of knuckles on wood came again.
“Coming,” I shouted.
I didn’t bother arguing and helped him down the stairs. We reached the door together to find Alex hovering at the entrance.
“Uh, hey,” he said awkwardly.
“Any news on Duane or Cierra’s whereabouts?” Lucian snapped.
“No,” he dragged the word out.
Lucian grunted, “What do you want then?”
“I’m not here for you.”
Lucian stiffened, and a snarl lifted his lips. He made to step forward, and I grabbed his arm.
“Your ankle.” I stepped in front of Lucian, my back against his front, while I faced Alex. “What’s wrong?”
“Your phone kept ringing.” Alex’s eyes skittered away from mine, and he angled his body to the side as he shoved his hand in his pocket. “The screen is shattered, so I accidentally answered.” He wrinkled the bridge of his nose, handing me the device. “It was your parole officer, asking where you’ve been. He dropped by your house multiple times yesterday.”
