Page 34 of Lucian

Lucian laughed darkly. “Cazzo merda?”

“Yeah.”

“Essentially, cazzo is a really offensive word in Italian for a man’s dick, but it’s also used in place of fuck or variations of the word fuck. Merda literally means shit. So …”

“Fucking shit,” Jordyn filled in, nodding. Of course it would be some form of a cuss. “I get it. There was something else, though. Princi … princa-something or other.”

Lucian’s head snapped up as if he’d been shot, his eyes blazing into hers. “Principessa?”

“Yeah. That’s it. What is that?”

Swallowing thickly, Lucian muttered, “It means princess in Italian. For men like us, it means something entirely different. I’ll tell him to cut his nonsense out.”

“I don’t think he meant anything by it,” Jordyn tried to say.

“Yes, he did.”

Seemingly not wanting to discuss it further, Lucian went about untangling the IV tube that had become wrapped in her arm and hand.

“Thank you.”

“Never thank me. Not for helping you, sweetheart. The only thing I need from you is for you to tell me what you need, when you need it. If I can, I will always give it to you.”

“Safety,” Jordyn whispered.

Lucian nodded, his fingers ghosting over the multiple bruises littering her arm. “I can do that.”

Chapter Nine

Jordyn awoke to pitch-black darkness. Perspiration soaked her skin and hair, dampening the sheets and pillows on the comfortable bed. She must have been tossing and turning something awful in her sleep, because the sheets were tangled around her lower half in a terrible knot of fabric, effectively keeping her from moving.

She didn’t have to wonder what woke her up. Jordyn knew. It was the same thing that had been affecting her sleep for the last six days since she woke up after her attack. The nightmares were recurrent of her beating. She could smell her vomit and blood, the tang of propane, and feel the pain like it was happening all over again. Even worse, the nightmare only seemed to get more horrible with every dream. There were more people there, some yelling¸ some urging her attacker on. No one would help when she begged them to.

Jordyn was aware they were just dreams. Not real, not now. It didn’t help much.

The fear from her dream was still running thick through her emotions, and before she could stop herself, she was gasping Lucian’s name. The sound was strained and terrified. Fisting the blankets, she barely called out for him a second time before his familiar, comforting figure was shadowing the doorway.

Did he ever sleep?

Lucian took a hesitant step into the room, staying silent. The thin sleep pants he wore rested low on his hips while his muscled stomach and chest were bare. Maybe he had been sleeping. Jordyn didn’t need him to tell her she was safe. With him there, she knew she was.

“You okay?” Lucian asked.

Jordyn wanted to reassure him, but she couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Jordyn whispered as Lucian watched her warily. “I just …”

What, had a bad dream?

Jesus, she felt like a child.

“Never mind,” Jordyn eventually said, embarrassment slipping into her voice. “Please go back to sleep.”

“Wasn’t sleeping,” Lucian replied easily. “I was just resting my eyes.”

Jordyn snorted under her breath. “Sure. I’m good, though, really.”

Lucian didn’t act like he’d heard her. “It’s a good thing Paulie took your IV out the evening after he put it in, what with the way you squeeze sheets to death every time you panic.”