Page 85 of Bound

Standing there beside Isobel doing nothing drained me, and as soon as Lucian was out of my sight⁠—

I understood the fear he felt.

The need to lock me in a room where nothing could ever touch me.

Because, my god, waiting there and being able to do nothing more than hope he was okay?

It was pure torture.

So, I let him keep me under lock and key.

For a bit.

His hand at the back of my neck while the doctor speaks.

His body between me and the door.

His coat over me like a blanket on the ride to get checked out.

I wake alone in his bed.

Not really alone. Lucian is in the chair by the window, fully dressed, awake, gun on the table beside him. Because of course he is. The man has the sleep schedule of a haunted gargoyle.

The room is dim. Heavy curtains drawn. Fire low in the hearth.

Upon seeing me wake, Lucian moves instantly.

“I’m going to see Cass,” I say.

His face does not change. “No.”

There it is. One word. Just no.

I stare at him. “She’s down the hall.”

“No.” He looks away, breaking eye contact. “You need rest.”

“I have rested.”

“You know we know this can’t end with Carlos.” He paces the floors, running a hand through his hair. “It can’t have been this easy.”

“And we are safe. At your family’s Hamlet. In Connecticut. A state away from where Carlos died. Surrounded by armed men. And you sleep with a gun.” I push the covers back. “I’m going to see my sister.”

His eyes flick over me. “I said no,” he says.

I move toward the door. He is there before me. Blocking.

The old Erin might have yielded to his force. The size of him. The authority built into his bones. The dark promise in his face saying he can rearrange the world if it displeases him.

The current Erin needs to see her sister. “Move.”

His eyes darken. “No.”

“Carlos is dead,” I say softly.

His face changes. “I didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?” A creeping feeling of unease crawls up my spine. He doesn’t answer. “Tell me what, Lucian?”