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“Do you always do this?”
He pushed the door shut and turned the lock. “Do what?”
“Answer private thoughts.”
“Your thoughts aren’t quiet. I know exactly what you’re thinking every time I look at your face.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Denial is a fool’s way to cope, little dove.”
Dove?
He turned towards his bathroom, reaching behind his back to remove his shirt. A minute later the shower clicked on. To so casually strip down and expose himself let me know he didn’t consider me any kind of threat.
Why should he?
The stories of Lucifuge Deville were widespread and well-known. Inherently cruel and cold-hearted were commonly used terms in reference of his personality.
I hadn’t experienced that from him. He had essentially kidnapped me, yes. He didn’t object to putting me in a cage, and he’d all but ordered me to stay in his bedroom. The last one I couldn’t fault him for. He had no reason to trust me and even less to give me the freedom to wander around his home.
He was intense.
But I could handle intense…or so I thought. He returned to the bedroom after about twenty minutes.
By then, I had moved to the suede ottoman at the foot of his bed. He came strolling into the room with a simple blue towel wrapped around his waist. I told myself not to stare, which was the equivalent of telling myself not to breathe.
There was well defined V that accentuated the path from his hips to what was beneath the towel. The right side of his body was inked from chest to lower stomach, each of his eight abs framed by solid lines and defined ridges.
My stomach did a small flip as he brushed past me. Whatever he’d washed up with had a woodsy scent with a hint of cinnamon. I followed him with my eyes. There was only one tattoo on his back, but it was so large it took up the whole thing. It was his Baphomet, without the circle.
The goat held up one hand, making a symbol of sorts. The darkly shaded ink highlighted the definition of his muscles. His entire body was a beautiful work of art and dedication. I couldn’t fathom what it took to look like this. I could barely manage three sit-ups.
With no warning, he dropped his towel. If he meant to shock me, he’d failed. I stared at his ass for all of three seconds before meeting his gaze in the reflection of the dresser mirror.
“That’s the second time you’ve eye-fucked me so hard I could feel it. I’m starting to feel a little violated.”
My brows slanted. “That isn’t what I’m doing.”
“Next you’ll say you’re not helplessly attracted to me.”
“I’m not…?”
“People who lie to me tend to lose their tongues or their lives, sometimes both.”
“You won’t kill me.” I stiffened as soon as the words fell from my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
He stared me down in the mirror, not responding to my stupidity.
Irritated by my own foolishness, I stared at a spot on the floor that was suddenly of interest.
I didn’t fear Lucifuge, but I was downright terrified of the things he could do to me. If those tales about him were true, he wasn’t a merciful killer.
I peered over when I heard him pull open one of his upper drawers. He lifted out a pair of black briefs and socks then disappeared into what I guessed was a closet. When he reemerged, he was dressed in another dark shirt and jeans. Without so much as a
glance in my direction, he went back to his bathroom.
I marginally relaxed, expelling a quiet breath. What was wrong with me? I never made dumb mistakes like that, especially when they could cost me my life. A feeling deeply rooted in my gut made me want to believe the words I’d spoken, but I knew how crazy that was.
