She’d loved him, and he loved her. When they were young, they would often spend their days sitting under the willow tree and discussing Shakespeare or Galileo’s theories. One day, she was going to be a scientist, the next a doctor, and the next a playwright. There wasn’t anything she didn’t dream of becoming.
He always saw her as growing up to fulfill all those dreams; he never once envisioned her dying before she ever fully got the chance to live. Yet, that’s precisely what happened.
Back then, she was what kept him from going over the edge; he would not disappoint her by becoming a monster. After her death, his determination to kill everything like Yannis fueled him.
“I was kneeling at her side when he ambushed me,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
So was he. He was sorry he wasn’t there to protect her when she required it most, sorry he’d been too wrapped up in himself to see what Yannis was becoming, and sorry he hadn’t been strong enough to destroy Yannis back then.
“What happened after that?” she asked.
“We fought until we almost killed each other. When Yannis fled the house, I sat in the doorway, covered in blood, his and mine, as I watched him run into the day with smoke streaming from him. I’d hoped he died.”
After he battled Yannis, he crawled back to her side and drew her into his arms. Holding her broken, cooling body in his arms was the only time he’d wept in his life.
“But he didn’t die?”
“No, he didn’t,” he grated the words out from between his gritted teeth. “I saw him in the tunnel yesterday. He emerged after we made it outside and smiled at me before ducking inside again. He’s alive, and I’m going to kill him.”
The hair on Callie’s nape rose as he growled the words. She didn’t know Yannis, but she suddenly felt very sorry for him. She had a feeling once Lucien set his mind on something, he achieved it, and if the lethal tone of his voice were any indication, Yannis’s death would not be an easy one.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said.
Determined to steer the conversation back to a better place, Lucien asked, “What about you, Callie? Where are you from? What’s your full name? What about your family?”
After everything he revealed, she saw no reason not to tell him more about herself. Besides, she could never return to her old life.
“Calista Ballis. My father was Greek, and his parents moved to New York before he was born. My mom was a mixing pot of nationalities. I grew up in upstate New York near the original Woodstock site.”
“Some of my brothers went to Woodstock.”
“But not you?”
Lucien chuckled. “Concerts and a lot of people aren’t my thing.”
“I went to a lot of concerts there over the years. Many of them I listened to from the woods with my friends; we always had a lot of fun. And then, after I got my degree, I moved to New Jersey and found work with a vet. I led a rather boring life, but I liked it that way.”
“What about a boyfriend?”
Why did he suddenly want to slaughter a man he didn’t know and who might not exist? She tensed beneath his touch, and when she spoke again, an edge of steel had entered her voice.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Something about the way she said it and the way she reacted to his question made him question if there was more to the story, but he didn’t ask any more about it. They’d already discussed enough depressing things tonight, and he didn’t want to know if he had competition for her.
Competition?The word baffled him. He didn’t compete for women. They either wanted him or they didn’t, but he wasn’t about to jump through hoops to get them. However, he found himself wanting to be the only man in her life, and he had no idea why.
“I’m going to rest again,” Callie murmured.
Before Lucien could reply, she pulled away from him; he listened as she moved about the mattress before settling onto it again. He longed to curl up beside her and hold her once more, but he stared into the darkness as he tried to sort out his strange feelings for this woman.
But though he’d fed and rested, he still wasn’t up to full strength, and his thoughts, when it came to her, were muddled. When he had some sleep and was more nourished, he’d be able to think better, and he might not have any interest in her.
Callie placed her hands under her head. She wasn’t tired; she just preferred not to talk anymore. She especially didn’t want to talk about Carter. That nightmarish chapter of her life was over.
She lay awake for a long time, part of her wishing Lucien would lie beside her again, and the other part wishing he would go away. She wasn’t sure how much time passed before he lay down beside her and draped his arm around her.
