Until the Sun Falls from the Sky (The Three #1)(140)

“What if they don’t?”

“Leah, they’ll find in my favor.”

“Okay, Lucien, but what if they don’t?”

“They will.”

I pressed both hands to his chest not to push him away but to communicate my need to know and repeated, “What if they don’t? Will they punish you? Vampire torture? Vampire prison? What are we talking about here?”

Lucien grinned. “There is no vampire torture or vampire prison.”

“So what if someone does something wrong?”

“If their transgressions are discovered, they’re told to stop doing it and pay compensation, if The Council deems it necessary.”

My eyes got wide. “That’s it?”

“Often the compensation is significant.”

I couldn’t believe this.

“So all forms of vampire punishment are paid through fines?”

“No. If a vampire breaks a very significant rule or continues to break a rule they’ve been penalized for before, they’d pay with their life.”

I sucked in breath and my body went solid.

Lucien’s big hand framed my face. “The rule I broke wasn’t that significant.”

“Holy heck,” I breathed.

His hand pressed gently into my head even as he gave me some of the weight of his torso. “Leah, listen to me. The rule I broke was not that significant.”

“There aren’t any crazy, redneck vampires on The Council who pass down insanely ridiculous sentences for minor infractions are there?” I asked, Lucien stared at me a second then threw his head back and burst out laughing.

I slapped his chest and snapped, “I’m not being funny.”

He visibly struggled to quell his laughter and looked back at me. “Sweetheart, there are no crazy, redneck vampires at all. So no, there definitely aren’t any on The Council.”

That was a relief.

“So, they rule against you, they’ll make you pay a fine?”

The laughter moved out of his face but he held my eyes and I didn’t know he lied again when he stated, “Yes.”

“And you’re a gazillionaire,” I remarked.

Humor hit his features again when he murmured, “I might fall short of that.”

“A billionaire then,” I stated and Lucien didn’t answer which meant yes. I powered through understanding this insane, totally unbelievable but still true tidbit of Lucien’s life and carried on, “So, essentially, it’s water off your back.”

Something drifted through his eyes, it wasn’t fast and it didn’t seem pleasant but I still couldn’t read it. Then it was gone like it had never been there.

Then he replied, “Essentially, yes.”

“Okay then,” I mumbled.

“Feel better now?” Lucien asked gently.

“Yes but you’re a billionaire so we can probably access arms dealers. Therefore we’re buying a flamethrower and I’m manning it should someone on The Council get a wild hair, do something stupid and they come after you.”

At that, a statement I made in jest (partially), Lucien’s entire face changed and I felt his body get tight. I also couldn’t read this change but I knew to my bones it was significant.

“Lucien?” I called when he didn’t speak.

He blinked, his body relaxed and his hand slid into my hair on the pillow where he started to twirl a lock around his finger.

“A flamethrower is unnecessary,” he whispered, his eyes warm, his face soft and even the air around us in our bed felt snug and safe.

“Of course,” I whispered back, sliding into his mood, the look on his face, in his eyes. “You could probably take on the lot.”

“Without a doubt.”

“So I have nothing to worry about.”

That thing drifted through his eyes again even as he murmured, “No, my pet, you have nothing to worry about.”

I didn’t like whatever was drifting through his features but, even so, I decided to trust him.

“Good,” I whispered.

His gaze moved over my face then his head dipped and even as his fingers kept twisting my hair, his lips moved on my neck. Lazy. Sweet. Nice.

My arms circled him. “Are we done talking?”

“Absolutely.”

“Are we going to sleep?”

“Absolutely not.”

I grinned. Then I twisted my neck, his head came up and our mouths met.

And we absolutely didn’t sleep.

Not for a long time.

And when we did, we did it close. Our bodies snug.

And, for my part, I did it feeling safe.

Chapter Twenty-One

The Attack

I turned the faucet off, wrung out the washcloth, smoothed it over the edge of the basin and looked into the mirror as I grabbed a towel to dry my hands.

Lucien and I had just made love and he’d fed. It was beautiful. As good as always. Ecstasy.

I’d cleaned up and was wearing nothing but a short, ivory silk nightie. In the mirror, I could see the angry pink wound at my neck morphing, fading, healing. It didn’t take long now, less than half an hour, then it would be gone.

I watched the wound grow fainter for long moments thinking that was wild and totally freaking cool.

I folded and returned the towel to its loop and looked back at my reflection the mirror.