Page 53 of Wicked Chains
"It makes even this place look kind of magical," I admit.
"The snow covers a lot of sins." Drake sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Hides all the ugliness for a while."
I'm about to join him back on the bed when his gaze shifts, focusing on something behind me.
"Nice coat," he says, a knowing smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
I follow his line of sight to where Lucien's black wool overcoat hangs draped over the back of my desk chair. My stomach does a weird little flip at the reminder of how it got there, Lucien draping it around my shoulders, his concern about me, his fingers lingering too long.
"It's not mine," I say.Duh, Rose.
Drake's smirk widens. "Obviously. It’s Italian wool and a man’s."
I cross my arms. "Lucien lent it to me. I was cold."
Drake stands, moving toward the coat. His fingers hover over the fabric without touching it. "You should return it to him today."
"Why?"
"Because it's the right thing to do." His eyes meet mine, a challenge in them. "And because I think you want to see him."
I scoff. "I don't want to see Lucien."
"I don’t think that’s true.” He glides his hand down my back. “And I am certain Lucien would like to see you, too.”
“How do you know that?” I watch his face, carefully.
"One advantage of being a ghost, I can watch people when they think no one's around to see."
“Normally that’s called spying.”
He shrugs, unapologetic. "What else am I going to do for entertainment?"
"So you've been watching Lucien?" The thought makes me uncomfortable, though I'm not sure why. It's not like I care what Lucien does in his private time.
Except maybe I do, just a little.
"I've been watching everyone," Drake clarifies. "You learn a lot that way. Things people don't want you to know." He pauses, giving me a look I can't quite decipher. "Things I think you deserve to know."
"Like what?" I ask, suddenly wary.
Drake runs a hand through his hair, choosing his words carefully. "Like the fact that Lucien de Lacroix is nothing if not bound by his own version of morality. His code might not look like yours or mine, but it's rigid, inflexible. Part of that code is his sense of duty and loyalty."
"So he's a rigid, inflexible asshole. Tell me something I don't know."
"I'm telling you that for him to turn against the Crescent Moon Coven, after centuries of service..." Drake gives me a pointed look. "He must have felt very strongly about something. Or someone."
The implication hangs in the air between us. I turn back to the window, watching the snow pile up on the grass and the walkways.
"I don't know what you're getting at," I say, feigning ignorance.
"Yes, you do."
"He's self-serving," I argue. "He probably just saw which way the wind was blowing and jumped ship before it went down. Survival instinct."
"Maybe." Drake doesn't sound convinced. "But I've been watching him for a century, Rose. I've seen him follow Victoria Wickersly's orders without hesitation, even when they went against his personal interests. I've seen him enforce rules he privately disagreed with. I've seen him sacrifice his own desires for what he believed was his duty."
"So why switch sides now?" I ask, more to myself than to Drake.
