Until the Sun Falls from the Sky (The Three #1)(70)

Too lazy to go back, I forged on and, as they do, things occurred to me as I walked.

For instance, the fact that Katrina had marked Lucien. It wasn’t something that registered on me at the time seeing as I was freaking out but, looking back, the scratches were ugly and savage. His skin had been broken. Katrina not only had not held back, she had the power and speed to get a bit of hers back.

And she hadn’t responded in any way shocked at their fight. It had been like it happened all the time.

Even Lucien’s baiting, “Try,” sounded, in retrospect, as if it wasn’t the first time he’d ever said it but as if he’d said it lots.

And lots.

And Katrina hadn’t hesitated to attack.

Katrina had attacked Lucien, not the other way around.

She had also attacked me, something which Lucien not only protected me from (easily) but also it infuriated him (greatly).

Then there was their conversation, Katrina saying I was “life” to Lucien.

I still didn’t know what that meant.

What I did know was that something important was going on. Something I didn’t understand, told myself I didn’t want to understand but something that was happening regardless.

It was Katrina who left and Lucien didn’t go after her. As far as I knew, he didn’t give her a second thought before he’d turned to me.

This all made me distinctly uncomfortable or more uncomfortable than normal.

Mainly because I was afraid Lucien was right. I’d jumped to conclusions.

I had a lot of bad qualities but I’d never been judgmental. I hated people who were judgmental. They were the worst.

But I feared I had been with Lucien.

Regardless of Katrina’s words, it was clear that Lucien wasn’t sending her “severance papers” (it wasn’t hard to figure out what severance meant) because of me but because of something that had been going on far longer.

And, no matter how much I tried to stop it, his deep voice saying that love was a blanket that keeps you warm kept playing over and over in my head.

He said this not like he’d read it somewhere and liked that quote or as if he was simply explaining what he thought love should be. He said it like he’d felt that before, like he knew it to be fact.

This fascinated me, scared me and, for some reason, made me very sad because whoever taught him that lesson was not Katrina.

The house Lucien gave me was surrounded by woods except for the huge yard, immaculate garden and the pool (yes, pool, with a small pool house, no less). During my house inspection the day I arrived, I’d noticed a path leading into the woods and I took it.

Upon realizing I was a judgmental person and that I probably owed the Mighty Lucien an apology (which sucked), the winding, woodsy path led out onto a lake.

And what a lake.

It was huge. The day was warm and sunny, a gentle breeze blew but it didn’t disturb the glassy surface of the water which went on forever, the wooded hills around it rising to the blue, cloudless sky.

It was gorgeous.

There were big, beautiful homes nestled in the hills with paths or steps leading to the water. There weren’t many of them though. I counted five.

Seriously exclusive real estate.

I could see at the bottom of the path a long, wide, sturdy pier. Not rickety and ill-kept, of course not. It was the kind of pier you tied a fancy speed boat to (or a small yacht).

I walked out to the end of the pier and sat in the sun, staring out at the tranquil beauty of the lake, wondering if Lucien provided such luxurious locations for all his concubines. If he did, it must cost him a whack. He had to have dozens of concubines still alive. If he didn’t, this had still cost him a whack.

Either way, it didn’t change the fact that he’d provided this for me.

“I am so f**ked,” I told the lake.

The lake, not surprisingly, had no reply.

I sat staring at the water and tried not to think of Gentle, Generous Lucien or the fact that, in all fairness, I should open a Why I Might Like Lucien Vault even if it was only a small, fireproof safe. I also tried not to think about my many bad traits which maybe got my fool self into this mess in the first place.

Being a vampire’s concubine was my family’s legacy. It was their business, as it were, and had been for five hundred years. In fact, this whole practice had been going on for centuries and people liked it. It was their way of life.

Who was I to buck the trend?

Cosmo’s money had kept my mother, sister and I clothed, fed and housed rather nicely, I had to admit, until Lana and I moved out. Lana and I shared the same Dad or, I should say, we shared the same sire. Our sire, from what little I remembered, drank a lot, yelled a lot and got kicked out on his ass by my Mom backed up by the arsenal of my aunties. Then he took off, sending birthday cards for the first couple of years before giving up. I hadn’t seen him since I was six.

Cosmo still kept my mother in manicures, pedicures, a three bedroom ranch-style house, designer handbags and martini lunches with my aunties.

I should have thanked him when I first met him, not been cold to him.

And then there was Lucien.

Well, of course he was pathologically controlling and a pain in the ass but when he wasn’t being those two things he was other things. I couldn’t help but think about the way he was with me when I was drunk (before he became a jerk, I hasten to add) and the way he was at The Feast (and he never became a jerk then).