Until the Sun Falls from the Sky (The Three #1)(143)

He felt it, I knew it. Whether he understood that was the last he’d ever get from me I didn’t know. I also didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. Not anymore.

My life yawned before me. Years of being forced to live with a man I loved but didn’t love me back and I could never really have. Then years of bitter memories taunting me.

I knew this. From the beginning I knew this.

But did that stop me?

No!

Stupid, stupid Leah.

I forced my arms to squeeze him and my lips to whisper, “You need to go.”

He lifted his head and looked down at me. Then he dipped it, touched his mouth to mine, pulled back slightly and murmured, “I need to go.”

I drew in breath.

Then I was no longer in his arms. With vamp speed, he left the bed.

Numb, I lay still and listened to him brush his teeth, his short shower. Before I knew it, he was wearing one of his fantastic suits, looking gorgeous standing by the bed. Then I was mostly out of bed, my legs dangling, my feet brushing the covers, my torso held close to his with his arms tight around me.

I looked up at him and blinked away the disorientation his speed created.

“I’ll be home soon,” he whispered.

“Okay,” I replied, my hands drifting to rest on his broad shoulders.

He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to mine.

I used everything in my reserves to stop myself from sobbing.

He lifted his head and opened his eyes.

“Thank you, sweetling, for giving that to me.” He was still whispering, his voice deeper, again rough but now with a different kind of feeling. In any other circumstance, I would think it was beyond beautiful.

Then, obviously, I didn’t. Because he was expressing gratitude for me giving my love and outside of a great house, fabulous clothes, beautiful shoes and unbelievable orgasms, that was the only thing he would ever give to me.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, my voice strange, void, dead.

He didn’t miss it.

“Sweetling –” he whispered.

“You need to go,” I reminded him.

His arms gave me a squeeze before he ordered, “Busy yourself. Don’t think of this while I’m gone. When we talk, Leah, I promise, you won’t feel the way you feel right now.”

He was full of it. He’d promised me a lot. And all of it was bullshit.

“Lucien, you have to go,” I told him.

“Busy yourself and don’t think of this,” he repeated.

“Okay, I’ll busy myself and not think of this,” I lied.

He held my eyes.

Then he whispered, “You’re lying.”

Whatever!

Jeez!

Why wouldn’t he just go?

I held his eyes right back.

Lucien sighed.

Then he reiterated, “I’ll be home soon.”

“And I’ll be here.”

His arms spasmed around me again as his eyes continued to hold mine captive.

Then, if you can freaking believe, the big, fat, vampire jerk’s lips tipped up.

His lips tipped up!

“Yes, pet, you will,” he whispered then touched his mouth to mine.

Then he was gone.

* * * * *

It happened after I made my plans and executed them.

I couldn’t get out of the talk, this I knew.

So I would be prepared for it.

I did not cry. I did not curl up and give my mind over to contemplating my bleak future. I didn’t open up the forgotten Why I Hate Lucien Vault, catalog its multitudes and nurse my fury. I didn’t immediately hit the kitchen and consume everything edible within reach.

I took a shower. I took forever doing my hair. I spent a great deal of time on my makeup. I studied my vast wardrobe selection and picked the perfect outfit. And I strapped on a pair of fabulous shoes.

I did this with only the aid of coffee supplied by Edwina who took one look at me and knew things were not right. And fortunately she also knew that I was in no mood to discuss them. So she brought me coffee but otherwise let me be.

I was coiffed. I was made up. I was wearing a freaking great pair of dark, bootcut jeans that I paired with a fabulous dusky blue, somewhat see-through top that clung to my midriff and h*ps but had a deep scoop at the back. I had a white racerback tank under it. And my feet were in high-heeled, beige suede, wedge sandals that had a wide strap across the toe and a wide, sexy ankle strap. In this getup, mentally prepared for what lay ahead, I walked downstairs.

My stomach felt hollow but I wasn’t hungry. This was unusual. Usually, when I stupidly broke my own heart by picking the way wrong guy to give it to, I could and did eat everything in sight but only if it wasn’t good for me.

Now it felt like I’d never feel hungry again.

And the alarming thing was, now it felt like I’d never feel anything again.

That was how deeply Lucien wounded me.

No. That wasn’t correct.

That was how deeply I allowed Lucien to wound me.

He fought to get in and I let him get in. But he knew he’d never give himself to me. And I knew he never could.

I just chose to ignore it.

My foot hit the floor of the foyer, my mind shoving away these thoughts, forcing itself toward eating something.

I needed to keep my strength up. Lucien had been gone for nearly an hour. His office was half an hour away if you didn’t drive a Porsche. He drove a Porsche and did it fast considering he couldn’t die unless his crash was fiery. So he could drive it in twenty minutes and he did. Regularly. He said he’d make the meeting short but I didn’t know what that meant. I just knew there was a probability he could be home any minute.