Page 72 of Coveted

Despite my misgivings about Lucan, the promise of a sprawling view draws me onto the roof. I’ve always loved being up high, because it feels almost like flying.

Stone bricks litter the platform, like leftovers from construction that nobody ever got around to moving. Past a single spindly balcony, the shingled roof falls away steeply.

Far below, Benedict Darkbloom’s statue guards the front of the college.

“Wow,” I say under my breath, moving to the balcony railing.

The inky-blue grounds are broken up by the lake. The silent black water reflects the stars and a smiling crescent moon.

Lucan joins me at the railing, his arm brushing mine.

Moving away to break contact, I lift my hand to wipe his blood from my forehead.

“Here,” he says, licking his finger as if to turn a book page.

Before I can duck clear of him, he holds the back of my neck and cleans off the blood while I grimace.

“You’re being dramatic,” he says when he’s finished. “It was a dab of blood.”

I lean back. “You say that like it’s normal to mark a woman on an altar.”

“Fuck normal. It’s overrated.” He rakes his gaze swiftly over the landscape, like he’s too annoyed to properly take in the majestic view. “Why do you keep acting like⁠—”

“What?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Like you’re scared of me.”

I pause. “Because I’m scared of you.”

“Why though? What are you so afraid of?”

CHAPTER 17

Sadie

“What am I afraid of?” I repeat. “You have a terrifying amount of access to various security systems. You have an armory at home. You’re rumored to hunt people for sport. You want to cage me.”

Lucan’s features relax. “I have no desire to cage you. I just want to own the sky you fly in.”

“So much better.” I stare out into the velvety night. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

At least he’s honest about what he wants, I guess.

It’s a pity that his desires border on psychopathic.

“I’d never hurt what’s mine,” he says.

“I don’t know what that’s got to do with me,” I reply airily to annoy him more.

Lucan grasps the balcony railing. “I think you do. I also think you’re fucking liar.”

Forgetting my attempt at nonchalance, I glare at him. “How so?”

“Everything that just came from your mouth. Lies.” He speaks over me when I try to object. “You’re not afraid of any of those things. If you were, you wouldn’t be here with me. You wouldn’t have come to Altar or my house.”

The wind picks up, blowing my hair like I’m on a rollercoaster ride.

“What then?” I ask. “What am I afraid of? Since you’re such an expert on me.”