Until the Sun Falls from the Sky (The Three #1)(66)

First, because Lucien did not have open reactions, unless he was in a position of complete trust with the person with whom he was talking and all those around him. Which would mean not under the hundreds of watching eyes at A Feast.

Second, because his reaction betrayed his feeling for his concubine which went beyond a desire for a simple taming.

This was familiar. Cosmo had experienced this emotion from Lucien once before. When Lucien took Maggie as his mate, expecting to live the rest of eternity with her only to have her captured by their enemies during The Revolution, tortured then executed.

They had not known it at the time but this, for Lucien, had been a boon. He and Maggie both would have died during The Hunt. Neither would denounce the other, Cosmo knew it to the depths of his soul. Further, Maggie’s murder had inflamed Lucien to the point where he was an unstoppable killing machine during the war, albeit controlled and strategic, but nevertheless immensely successful and exceptionally deadly. Avenging Maggie’s murder had made him a hero of The Revolution to such an extent, with his added mesmerizing abilities and his unparalleled wealth, centuries later he was now an idol.

If she had lived to see it, Maggie would have laughed.

Back then, Lucien had been content with modest wealth (for a vampire, for a mortal, he was fabulously wealthy).

And he had been more than content with Maggie.

Being a hero, and definitely an idol, would not have been something he would have sought, although he didn’t. It also wasn’t something he would have allowed, although he had no choice.

He would have found a way to return them to their simple life, just the two of them, for eternity. No hopes for children but no disease, no death, just Maggie’s oft-used dry wit, excellent cooking skills, flashing gray eyes and Lucien’s complete devotion.

Not for the first time, nor likely the last, sorrow for his friend and his loss gentled Cosmo’s tone.

“Maybe you should feed,” Cosmo suggested.

Lucien didn’t hesitate. “Excellent idea,” he murmured his reply.

Lucien’s eyes moved to the blonde on the dance floor. His mind sought hers and he called to her.

Come to me.

She had her back to him and he watched her body twitch then she whirled around, her eyes seeking his.

She looked surprised, even anxious. It wasn’t something that happened, hearing someone else’s voice in your head.

Then her anxiety melted and she smiled smugly. Without hesitation, she moved toward him, slithering adeptly through the crowd.

As he watched her move, Lucien made a decision. He didn’t make her come to him, he moved with the intent to meet her at the doorway to the maze that led into The Den.

He wanted to be done with this and get home to Leah.

He had intended to return tomorrow evening for a feeding and another attempt at her taming. However, he decided he’d talk to her, not instruction, but explanation. And he also decided to do it without delay.

Perhaps that would hold some sway or at least enough for her to beg him to take her.

All day his body had reminded him of his own unfulfilled need to be buried inside Leah’s silken, wet, warmth. It had been an error of judgment to give his c**k even the hint of a feel of her. It had taken a supreme effort of will to set those thoughts aside during the day. No matter how little he had of her, what he had had been exquisite.

“Lucien,” the blonde breathed when she made it to his side.

He didn’t greet her nor did he touch her.

He walked into the hallway, knowing she’d follow.

She did.

This hallway didn’t snake to The Den, or feeding room, of this Feast. Instead, it was a maze, the center of which held The Den. Every vampire knew the layout, none of the mortals did. A mortal could only go to The Den in the company of a vampire at his or her invitation. If they wandered back in hopes of melting into the feedings, at this particular Feast, they could be lost for hours, even days.

Lucien moved swiftly, surely, feeling her struggling to keep up, not allowing her to get her bearings and within minutes they were in The Den.

Lucien’s eyes went immediately to the steward who noticed him and jerked his head toward another door. Lucien wended his way through the bodies on the floor, feeling her behind him, smelling her scent which was no here near as delicious as Leah’s.

Most definitely lemonade. And not good lemonade.

“Master Lucien,” the steward murmured as he inserted a key and opened one of a half dozen doors leading off The Den.

“Clive,” Lucien returned the greeting and walked into the small room.

It was much like any Den, decorated in rich colors, the furniture comfortable and inviting, meant for lounging, covered in soft, plush fabrics.

Lucien had intended to lead Leah to a room off The Den they visited last night, not to feed, to indulge in other pleasurable activities. However, her extreme reaction stopped him from doing that. He’d been disappointed but only until she’d explained. Then he’d been elated.

The door closed behind them and Lucien turned to the woman.

“I’m Kitty,” she said in her breathy voice.

Lucien regarded her for a moment then he gave his honest, dispassionate opinion. “What a perfectly ridiculous name.”

She blinked both in surprise and, he noted instantly, stupidity. She had no idea if he was being serious or teasing and with the way the wheels churned behind her blue eyes, it would take far longer than he intended to spend with her to figure it out.