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His shadows opened the doors to his chambers before he reached them, swallowing the darkness beyond as if they, too, were desperate to obscure what Lucan had done. He carried Elarian inside and lowered her onto the edge of his bed with a care so gentle, it almost felt mockingly cruel.
Still, Elarian refused to look at him.
“Look at me.”
Nothing. Her hands remained folded over the torn fabric covering her chest. The blood had already begun to clot, silvery streaks staining her fingers as it dried. His blood still moved through her veins, healing what he had lacerated.
But he knew nothing could repair the fragile bond of trust he’d broken.
The irony of it all nearly made him laugh.
He’d spent centuries believing himself a monster that Aurelion had solely created, yet the first thing he did when someone offered him a chance at redemption was prove everyone right. Lucan cursed himself as his jaw tightened.
No…no, gods, he couldn’t think like this. Not when there was still a chance of saving her.
Even if saving her meant making her hate him.
“Get dressed.”
The words left his mouth colder than he intended. Good, he thought bitterly. Let her remember why she came here.
Elarian finally looked at him, and the emptiness in her expression fractured something inside.
“What?”
Lucan turned away. He could not bear to see her face and that faint tremble of her lower lip.
“Your wound will heal soon. The blood will keep you alive long enough to escape if you are clever.” My blood, he wished to say. Lucan’s fingers curled into fists at his side. “Leave. Now.”
For a moment, confusion painted her face before melting into understanding.
“I see.”
She paused, biting her lip in that way he found positively irresistible, before continuing, “So that is it, then? I leave here and, what? Become your enemy again? Become the woman who fucked you in defiance of my goddess because I thought that maybe you, too, were a broken soul searching for something more?”
His shadows stirred.
“You are a coward, Lucan.”
Stomach lurching, Lucan reached for the wall to steady himself.
“No,” he replied quietly. “I am being practical. You do not understand who is coming, Elarian.”
“Oh, I do.” She laughed. “Daddy Aurelion is coming, and now you’re a simpering child on hands and knees, begging for his forgiveness because you’re too weak to fight for the one thing you claim to want.”
At that, Lucan closed the distance between them. His hand wrapped around her slender throat just as it had so many times before. Only this time…this time, he almost wished to snap her fragile bones.
“You think you know me?” he challenged.
“I thought I did.”
Her gaze bore into him until Lucan looked away. She did know him—at least part of him—but how could he ever find someone who could accept everything he was, even the ruined lapdog of Aurelion? Because for one impossible night, she saw beneath every layer of cruelty, arrogance, and blood-soaked pride he had spent five centuries constructing. She had looked at him and found the frightened man buried beneath the monster.
And then he rewarded her faith by becoming exactly what she feared.
“The alliance is over,” he said at last. The lie tasted like ash upon his tongue.
Elarian stared at him. “What, because I hurt you with words? Because you can’t handle the fact that you’re incapable of anything beyond sadistic pleasure at tormenting my heart?”
