Page 67 of Wicked Chains
When we break apart, that haunted look is back in his eyes, a sadness I can't quite reach.
"Drake, please tell me what's wrong."
He touches my cheek gently. "Later. I promise. After you've talked to Soren and Lucien." His gaze drops to Hank, who's still sitting quietly on my knee. "Keep him close. Don't let Helena near him again."
I nod, scooping Hank up. "I won't. Will you be here when I get back?"
His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll find you."
And then he's gone, leaving me alone in the dusty hallway.
Thirty
Rose
Hank watches me from the desk, his big eyes following my nervous pacing around the room. At least he seems to have recovered from his near-death experience with Helena. Which is more than I can say for my nerves.
"Stop worrying," I tell Hank. "I know what I'm doing."
Hank blinks at me doubtfully.
A knock at the door makes me jump. Three sharp raps, and I know it's Lucien.
I take a deep breath and open it. Sure enough, the vampire stands in my doorway, perfect as always in an impeccably cut suit and tie.
"Hello, Rose. You wanted to see me?"
"Yeah, come in." I step back, gesturing him inside. "Thanks for coming."
He enters, and it looks like he's gliding rather than walking. "Your message sounded urgent. Is everything all right?"
"Not exactly," I say. "I need your help with something."
His eyebrow arches. "My help? How unexpected."
"It's not like I have a ton of options."
Lucien smiles slightly. "And here I thought we were making progress."
Before I can respond, another knock comes—this one more of a lazy thump than Lucien’s.
Soren.
I see Lucien's nostrils flare slightly, and I’m guessing he can probably smell Soren through the door with his vampire senses. This is going to go great.
I open the door to find Soren leaning against the frame, dressed in dark jeans and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his sinewy forearms. His eyes are pure black, not a hint of white, and his smile widens when he sees me.
"Hey, little witch," he says, pushing off the doorframe. "Got your message. What's so?—"
He stops mid-sentence, his eyes focusing past me to where Lucien stands in the middle of my room.
"Well," Soren drawls. "This is cozy. Should I have brought wine?"
"Come in and shut the door," I say, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside before he can change his mind.
Lucien's face has gone carefully blank, but his eyes are stern. "Professor Malric. What a surprise."
"Isn't it?" Soren grins as he looks from Lucien to me. "Though I suppose I shouldn't be shocked. Rose does seem to prefer variety."
