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Luna

I’m lying in Lucien’s bed, staring at the ceiling.

His sheets are silky and jet black – probably a good thing, seeing as they must be covered in blood after what happened last night.

Every time I close my eyes, I see it... Lucien’s hands on my skin, his fangs at my throat, my name carved into his ribs. My hand in his chest.

That’s the part I keep reliving over and over and over.

I hold my arm out and stare at my fingers. They were inside his chest. Holding his heart. It was slick, strangely cool to the touch, and it vibrated gently with each pulse.

It was horrifying.

And hot as hell.

When did I become this person?

I remember the way I felt when I first got here. When Lucien showed me the video of Steven’s grovelling apology and, instead of being alarmed, I was... turned on.

What happened last night is making me feel the same way, except a million times more intense. Both alarmed and afraid, but so aroused I can hardly think straight.

That’s not normal, is it? To find it hot for a guy to carve open his own chest and let you hold his beating heart?

I sit up and scrape my fingers through my curls, pushing them away from my face. There is something wrong with me. I need to see a shrink. I’m locked up in a vampire’s mansion and I’m enjoying it.

Even running from Trent and having to protect myself made me feel alive in a way I haven’t ever experienced before.

The intensity of it all makes me shiver despite the warmth of the bed.

For a moment, I wonder if I dreamed everything. Perhaps I’m in a hospital bed right now. Deep in a coma. Or maybe Lucien brought me here but I made up the rest. Some sort of twisted kidnap fantasy to help my mind cope with what was happening.

The pleasant soreness in my muscles tells me otherwise. This is Lucien’s bed. It was his body I woke up to, curled protectively around me.

And last night was very, very real.

“You’re awake.”

Lucien’s voice comes from the doorway. I look up to find him watching me, wearing only black pants, his chest bare and perfectly healed. Not a trace of the wound he inflicted on himself. I wonder whether vampire bone heals the way vampire flesh does. Will my name be engraved above his heart forever? Or was it all a dramatic circus act? Already faded and forgotten?

“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, pulling the sheet up to cover myself as I notice a deeper-than-usual need to be close to him.

“Not long.” He’s holding two coffee mugs and crosses the room to press one gently into my hands. “How do you feel?”

It’s a difficult question to answer. Physically, okay. Emotionally? Raw and chaotic.

“I feel—” I pause, searching for the right word. “Different.”

He nods as if he understands perfectly, although how could he? Then sits at the edge of the bed and puts his mug on the nightstand.

“You drank my blood last night, Luna. And I drank yours. It will strengthen the bond between us.”

“I know,” I meet his eyes. “I’ve read about blood bonds.”

Lucien smiles a little, as if it pleases him that I willingly chose to allow the bond to form.

So, you know you might start to hear my voice?