Until the Sun Falls from the Sky (The Three #1)(84)

I did not.

“I’m tired,” I announced suddenly.

And I was. Very tired. Of my crazy life!

Most especially the crazy vampire who was sharing my crazy life (against my will, I might add).

He was silent for several moments.

Then his body moved like he was laughing. I ground my teeth together when I realized he was, indeed, laughing. He must have heard my teeth grinding because his laughter became vocal.

I visualized myself kicking him in the shin. It was childish, but it worked.

“That wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do, my pet,” he whispered and my body went still.

He’d seen me visualizing.

God, I hated him!

I tried to pull away but his arm locked.

“Will you please let me go?”

“Why?” he asked, still chuckling.

“So I can get comfortable,” I snapped.

Myrna would never snap but screw Myrna. If there was a snapping moment, this was it.

He settled his heavy weight into me, shifting me to my back, his legs tangling with mine, his arm still caging me in, keeping me close.

“This isn’t comfortable,” I declared on yet another lie.

“Mm,” he murmured against my temple and a happy trill glided across my skin (something else I ignored), “I disagree.”

Okay, I had to get control. As much as I detested asking it, I had to.

What would Myrna do?

I wracked my brain. Then I had it.

“Whatever you wish, Lucien,” I mumbled obediently.

He chuckled low yet again, kissed my temple then ordered, “Go to sleep, Leah.”

I didn’t answer. I also didn’t go to sleep.

I decided to fume.

This lasted for about five minutes.

Then his heat, his heaviness, his soft breath stirring my hair, his large, powerful body at rest by mine, a body which could likely keep me safe from just about anything in the world, permeated my subconscious and a second later, I was dead to the world.

Chapter Fourteen

The Explosion

“What’s happened to Leah?”

Even after hearing Stephanie’s whispered question, Lucien didn’t take his eyes from Leah as she slid away from them through the crowded room.

He heard Leah saying softly again and again, “Excuse me,” as she moved amongst the crush of opera patrons on her way to the restroom. Sometimes she would give them a small polite smile.

As she moved and spoke, the patrons turned to look.

The men would keep looking. The women would either stare or glare.

She disappeared from sight and Lucien’s eyes stayed where he last saw her.

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since their Sunday together, a day that started unbelievably well and ended unbelievably badly.

And then she had her dream.

“Lucien?” Stephanie called but, lost in thought, Lucien didn’t respond. He continued to watch the entrance to the hall where he’d last seen Leah.

He feared he’d broken her. Not how he’d intended, in a way he could never have imagined nor would ever have wanted.

For the first week, he saw her come through every once in a while. Often her eyes would flash. Other times she’d look painfully and hilariously undecided, as if she had one reaction but was forcing herself to display another. She also lost her patience while attempting to make him some complicated soufflé that went tremendously badly however her foul-mouthed tirade after it collapsed was immensely entertaining.

The disastrous soufflé gave him hope.

So did the dreams.

She’d had four more, all the same. All of them starting with her moving, nearly writhing against him as if in ecstasy but this would end abruptly in a blood-chilling scream.

Seconds later, he’d hear her words whispered in his head.

I love you.

Shortly after came the choking sobs, she’d wake and attempt to flee. He’d catch her and hold her until her trembling and tears ceased.

After the second dream they’d stopped talking about it. She would simply hold onto him in a way that felt desperate. He’d stroke her back or her hair until her body relaxed and she fell asleep in his arms.

Lucien closed his eyes tightly as the words sounded softly in his head.

I love you.

Those words, those three f**king words, whispered in his head.

It wasn’t even the words, it was the way she said them. As if she’d pulled them out of her soul and offered them to him like a gift.

And he knew she was talking to him, dreaming of him. She wouldn’t be in his head if she wasn’t. He wouldn’t be able to hear it.

He also knew she wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t remember. Something was blocking the memory, likely the power behind the emotion of whatever made her scream and sob in such a f**king heartbroken way it was difficult to witness.

Lucien didn’t know what to make of the intensity of her dream and the aftermath or what they meant to him or Leah except it was pretty clear her earlier hostility toward him, and now her deference to him, were defense mechanisms. He’d managed to establish a connection but she wasn’t allowing herself to embrace it.

Even so, he didn’t like that Leah had them.

Her terror was stark, her pain palpable and he was powerless to stop them, a feeling he never felt and one he didn’t much like.