Page 97 of Coveted

He gives a faint smile. “No, Sadie.”

“Oh.”

I think it’s confirmed. He might actually have a soul.

Then my brain blares another memory, surrounded by flashing red lights.

On my first day, when Juliette and Clara talked about Lucan’s reputation, there was that other rumor about him killing someone.

Ripping a person apart with his bare hands, to be exact.

He must be able to sense my shift, because his face subtly switches. His smile fades out and his eyes regain their laser focus, like he knows exactly which question I’m going to ask. Maybe he’s even been waiting for it since we met.

As I draw breath, he cuts in.

“Yes,” he says, his deep voice steady.

My stomach drops. “You⁠—”

“Yes.”

“Ripped apart a person?”

“A man.”

Nausea rises in me. “With your bare hands?”

“That’s such a dramatic way to put it,” he says with a grunt, like he’s heard it a million times before.

“But accurate?”

He exhales. “I suppose.”

“You killed someone.”

“Yes, Sadie.”

Processing, I rub my temples. “Why would you tell me?”

“As you pointed out, I haven’t told you enough about myself. I want you to know who I am.”

“But why do you want me to know?”

“Because I want you. Have I not made that clear?”

My cheeks grow warm. “I guess you have.”

“You guess? Fuck, I’d better try harder.”

He goes to move closer, but I put my hands up.

“Stop,” I say. “I’m still on the ripping-apart-with-bare-hands thing.”

Lucan keeps his distance, swallowing the last of his whiskey. “What about it?”

“How are you not in prison? You were eighteen, right?”

He nods. “My father took care of it.”