Page 55

“Your eyes... Lucien, what’s happened to you?”

I try to explain, to make her understand. I tell her everything — the ambush, the vampire who turned me, stories that sound as though they’re something from a gruesome fairy tale instead of from our reality. Through it all, she listens in horrified silence.

When I finish, I reach for her hand. “But my love for you hasn’t changed. We can still be together, Elizabeth. I’ll find a way. I will fight what they made me. I swear to you⁠—”

The sting of holy water hits my face before I can react. Elizabeth stands at the edge of the bed, clutching a small vial.

“Demon,” she hisses. “You’re not my husband.”

She scrambles from the bed, trips and falls into the dresser. Her head is bleeding. She raises her hand to touch the wound. Blood coats her fingers.

Her eyes widen. She looks at me and shakes her head. “Please, Lucien. No.”

But in that moment, all my control, all my humanity, slips away. I move without thinking, my hand closing around her throat.

It’s over in seconds.

I sink my teeth into her neck and drink until there is nothing left.

I don’t try to turn her. I don’t know how.

I let her slip away from me and stare at her lifeless body as it crumples onto the floor. And while I stare at her... I feel nothing.

Nothing except the need to feed again.

Luna stirs in her sleep. She murmurs something and the sound of her voice drags me back to the present.

She sits up in bed, stretching her arms out sideways as if she has had the most peaceful sleep of her life. When she sees me, she smiles, and my dark mood lifts.

I hate that it lifts from looking at her.

Being with her.

I hate that even though I know love leads to nothing but pain and betrayal, I can feel myself falling for her.

I should send her away from this place. But I can’t because I need to keep her safe the way I need air to breathe and blood to feed on. It is an unquestionable part of my being now.

She is a part of my being.

“I’m suddenly absolutely starving,” she says, reaching for her glasses. As she slips them onto the bridge of her nose, she yawns and holds one hand over her stomach. It grumbles loudly.

“Pasta.” I gesture to the tray. “I brought it last night.”

She nods and motions for me to bring it to her, sitting up and folding her legs beneath the bedsheets.

I set the tray down and watch as she levers a forkful of food into her mouth.

“Coffee?”

She tilts her head at me.

“I can have some coffee brought up. If you’d like some.”

She frowns as if she’s confused by my overly formal way of addressing her all of a sudden. “Coffee would be good. Do you have staff for that?”

I find my phone, in my pants pocket on the floor by the fireplace, and text Trent. If you’re awake, bring coffee, milk, and sugar to Luna’s room.

He was dubious about me bringing her here. But he’s also curious, so I know he’ll obey my request. Desperate to catch a glimpse of the woman who is so important she has to be locked inside my house for her own safety.