He chuckles, and keeps tickling my face with my hair.
"What happened to Georgianna? Is she still alive?"
"No," Lucius says, and pulls his hand away. I press my lips together, keeping my questions in, and after a few moments he resumes stroking my brow.
I stare at the ceiling. Outside, the sky lightens to a rich navy blue. The high windows frame one bright star. Venus. The morningstar. Dawn's coming, and any second Lucius will leave me.
For now, he seems content to lie beside me and watch me. Is this normal? Am I so fascinating? Two thousand years, and his maker and his lover both died at his hands, along with countless vampires he sired.
"So, over the years, one way or another, everyone close to you has died?"
The heavy silence is my answer.
"Sounds lonely," I tell the ceiling.
"Pet," his sigh creaks in my ear. "you have no idea."
Selene
OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, I fall into a dream. Lucius must have shut down Club Toxic for the whole week, because he takes me there again and again to train me.
"I'm going to break you in, pet. Bring you to heel…"
Maybe it's what he told me of Georgianna, or how much I look like her, but I find myself striving for Lucius' approval as if I'm competing with his first submissive.
I'm not jealous of his first love. I'm not. I just want to entice Lucius as he entices me.
I tell myself I'm being smart, gathering intelligence. But I haven't made any inroads to finding a way to get his guard down. The only time he lets his guard down is after a scene, and I can't exactly stake him during aftercare. He wouldn't expect it, but I'm in no position to outmaneuver him, not while I'm recovering from the ecstasy he unleashes.
There are stretches when Lucius leaves me to run his empire, but he works me over beforehand. I sleep while he's gone, and when I wake, he's with me, ready to play again.
One night, after a heady session, I wake to him leaning over me.
"What--?" I croak and he shushes me.
"It's all right, my pet. It's just a nightmare." The question must show on my face because he explains. "You were crying out in your sleep."
"I…" I swallow to wet my throat. "I was?"
"Here." He hands me a glass of water. I often wake to find water and chocolate on my bedside table. His way of caring for me if he can't be here when I wake.
I drink and rub my face, clearing the cobwebs out of the corners of my mind. I've had nightmares since my family was killed, but no one, not even my foster mother, ever entered my room to comfort me. I've always been alone.
The bed dips and he surrounds me, his large body curling around mine. He's so big, I'm swallowed up in his embrace. My feet only reach his calves. I crane my head to look back at him. "What are you doing?"
"Can't I spend the night with my sub?" He brushes the hair off my bare shoulder and kisses my neck. His left arm snakes around my middle, gathering me against him when I would tighten into a ball. This is nuts.
The Vampire King wants to cuddle? What planet am I on?
"Time to sleep." he whispers. "No more monsters under your bed. I'm the only monster here." There's a self mocking twist to his voice. "And you don't have to be afraid of me. Not tonight."
I close my eyes, willing myself to ignore his presence. It doesn't work. Head to toe, his body touches me, and even if he leaves my bed later, he'll be the first thing on my mind when I rise. The last thing I think of when I fall asleep.
I'm forgetting to hate him.
Selene
THE NEXT DAY, I'm running as a wolf, sniffing at an old rabbit trail, when something flutters above my head. A piece of paper blowing in the breeze. I catch the paper under my paw. My body goes solid. A copy of an old photograph. Even faded, the lines of the image are clear. I crouch behind the cactus, my wolf whimpering. I can't stop myself from pushing the paper flat and looking closer, even though I know what the photo shows. I've seen it a thousand times. Xavier hung it on the wall of the gym where I learned to spar. I'd fight hooded opponents until my muscles screamed, and when I fell--eventually I always fell--I'd look up at the picture, grit my teeth. I'd endure a beating night after night, staring at the photo of the massacre. I'd limp to the showers, wash the blood off my skin, and fall into bed, stifling a groan. I'd lie there, body one giant bruise, the photograph etched in my mind's eye.
Bodies lie in a room, sprawled where they fell. I remember the room--an old Elk lodge converted into a community center. The pack hangout, with an old pool table and a faded Ansel Adams poster curling on the wall. Here's one wolf curled around his mate, protecting her even in death. Here's another facing the camera, eyes dulled, throat torn out.
This is what Lucius did to my pack. I don't know why he sentenced them to death. Xavier told me only a few were bitten. The younger ones, the ones who put up the most fight, Lucius took from the lodge and held in his private lair, drinking from them until they died. Xavier doesn't have photos of that, only reports from eye witnesses.
The breeze tugs at the paper, and I plant a paw in the middle. Xavier left this here for me. He and his people are watching me right now. He knows I've been weak. He knows I need a reminder. He doesn't want me to forget why Lucius has to die.
Old pain cracks my heart, poisons my blood.
I nudge a rock onto the photo to hold it down while I dig a hole. Gotta bury the evidence that Xavier was here.