My mind is racing, but my body has refused to move toward my own room. The idea of closing myself into that space now feels impossible. No.
Every cell in my body is pulling in one direction. Towards him.
I turn on my heels, my eyes falling on my beautiful princessy gown stained with blood, but I still refuse to go to my room and start walking toward Lucien's wing.
I reach the east wing door and hesitate, my hand hovering over the brass handle. The wood is cold under my palm when I finally push it open. It's not the first time I'm passing the threshold of this wing, but tonight I am not here to talk to Lucien. I just want to be with him so that I'll know he's okay.
I step into Lucien's room, the creak of the door announcing my presence. From the bathroom, the rush of water hit my ears. My chest tightens a little, a tiny voice inside whispering. Go back. Just go back to your room.
I shake my head, brushing it off. No...Lucien has this rule: no locks between us. So technically, I am not crossing a line, not really. I lean against the doorframe of his room and wait. Might as well stick around until he comes out.
The bathroom door clicks open, and my eyes widen before I can stop myself. Lucien steps out, wrapped in a towel, water droplets sparkling on his skin. I gasp and spin around so fast it makes my heart hurt. Fingers pinched at my eyes, trying to block out the image, but it is useless. My voice comes out shaky.
"I...I need to talk to you." I blurt, keeping my back to him.
Lucien moves, probably toward his closet. "Not right now, Anaya."
I turn, hoping for some sign he'll listen, but I freeze. He is standing here, wearing only his boxers. He raises an eyebrow, gesturing towards the door with a tilt of his head.
I walk to his bed and prop myself down on the edge of it. "I am not going anywhere; that is sure."
Lucien sighs, gripping the bridge of his nose. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Matteo told me about her."
Lucien's jaw clenches. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"The girl you loved." I go on but carefully, even though my heart is pounding. "And what happened to her?" I swallow. "And to you as well."
Something flickers in his expression, brief and sharp, and then it's gone.
"You shouldn't believe everything Matteo says." Lucien mutters.
I shrug. "Okay, then you say something and I'll believe you."
Lucien slides into his blanket and leans back on the headboard. "I know one thing: that you shouldn't have come to stop me," he says finally in his rough tone. "You could have gotten yourself hurt."
Something inside me snaps. The words echo in my head. "Matteo said the exact same thing a few minutes ago."
Lucien squints. "Do you think this is something you should be excited about?"
I shake my head and make a tsking sound. "Matteo can talk," my voice laced with a strange mix of amusement and disbelief.
Lucien tilts his head, looking more confused than ever. "Yeah...so?"
I nod, and my voice is a little squeaky now with the excitement. "That means you didn't..."
I stop mid-sentence, realizing I shouldn't say it out loud. I have no idea how he will react. Lucien raises one brow, his lips twitching in the faintest hint of a smirk. "I didn't what?"
My fingers twisted the edge of the slit over my thighs. "Nothing." I shake my head, but my voice betrays me.
The room is quiet for a beat, just the hum of the air conditioner, and Lucien moves forward. "Actually," he says.
I immediately look at him; he narrows his eyes. "I floated two stories."
There is no rush in his voice. "What are you talking about?"
He isn't blinking. "First one, I cut Matteo's tongue out myself." His tone is casual, like he is listing off grocery items. "The second one, I gave him a knife and told him to cut it out on his own or I'd kill him."
A wave of shock courses through me. "What?"
Lucien nods, his eyes still locked on me, calm in a way that makes it worse.
I shake my head and look down over my hands, assuming I have misheard him. I exhale and look into his eyes again. "You are—are you serious right now?"
"Which one did you hear?" He asks, his brows flashing.
I look at him, try to read through his face, but it's like a wall—no twitch, no flinch. "The first one," I murmur.
Lucien smirks. "I told you," his voice dropping lower. "In my world, only I know the complete truth."
I chin up with a humorless laugh. "You have some messed-up ways of proving your point."
He shrugs one shoulder. "At least you are not in the dark."
I slightly snort. "You literally just told me I am in the dark."
That earns me the faintest crack of amusement in his eyes. "You're learning."
I feel exhaustion weighing heavily on my bones, so I also move to the side, rest my head against the headboard, and close my eyes. Not meaning to drift, but too tired to keep them open while talking.
"Mmm." I murmur and continue to talk, believing that I can handle both resting and talking. But then the next words I hear aren't calm. They aren't the same.
"I don't know."
His breathless words sound as desperate as a drowning man. I am confused. For a second, I think I am mixing fragments of my dream with our conversation.
His voice comes again, ragged, almost pleading. "Sonya, no."
My eyes crack open halfway, heart kicking up. I am trying to make sense of what is happening here.
"Come back, Sonya." Lucien's lashes flutter.
My eyes snap open fully. I push myself upright. At first, I thought he was talking to me, then I looked at a blanket over me and realized that I wasn't even awake. I look around, and sunlight is already slipping through the curtains.
Fuck, I slept the whole night in Lucien's bed.
Lucien's bare chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His jaw is clenching as he mumbles; his lips are moving with words that tear right through me. I lean closer, listening. Lucien's face is tight, with sweat along his hairline and muscles twitching like he is fighting something in his sleep.
"Sonya." He whispers again in a painful and desperate voice.
The name cuts through me like a knife.
I don't understand why my throat is tightening. I don't know this woman. I don't know the whole story about her. But the name of another woman on his lips burns no less hot than I want to admit.
I swallow hard and drag my fingers through my hair. What the hell is wrong with me?
I should feel nothing. Hell, if anything, I should feel glad. This shows that Lucien isn't untouchable and that even this dark monster has ghosts that claw at him. Instead, all I am feeling is a sharp pain wedged deep inside my chest.
The hard lines of his face start to soften in sleep.
I shake my head and look away, reminding myself that this isn't my place to care.
Lucien isn't my knight in shining armor. He isn't my savior.
He is my captor.