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“That is a very pretty dress. It’ll look even better with blood splattered all over it,” he says.
My stomach lurches, and I almost trip over my feet on the final step. “What?”
He claps his hands together. “This is going to be so much fun. Now come along and follow me. We have a lot to do. Baxter won’t let us play in any of the rooms, so we have to do your training in the cellar.”
I think I’m going to be sick. “Lucien, wait.”
He turns to face me, a frown tugging at his lips. “What is it? We don’t have time to waste.”
“This isn’t what I had in mind.” I walk up to him and beseech him with my eyes, letting him see my fear and resistance. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or worse, accidentally kill you. I’ve done it before.”
The confession leaves me in a rush before I can recall it. I bite my lip and wait for Lucien to express his shock and for him to judge me. I know I would at hearing something like that.
He simply stares at me. Then he drags a finger over the seam of my lips, making my throat go dry. And my core wet. “I knew you had sharp teeth, little bird, but I didn’t realize they were fangs.”
I shrug in lieu of speaking, not knowing what to say.
“You’re going to need them at Court,” he says. “That place is crawling with monsters. And I don’t mean just those like me, in search of a good time. I’m talking about depraved individuals who aren’t afraid to hurt others to obtain what they want. In my opinion, it’s better to kill than be killed.”
He runs his gaze over me once more and jerks his chin. “Let’s sharpen those fangs, my dear.”
Lucien strides down the hallway, leaving me to catch him. I grab fistfuls of my skirts and quicken my pace to position myself by his side.
“Thank you for understanding,” I say. “I’m having a hard time coming to terms with this other woman who lives inside my mind. It’s… challenging to reconcile her behavior with mine.”
“Illusions might be my forte, but they are my detriment as well. Having to discern farce from fact is a battle I’m all too familiar with.”
We lapse into a heavy silence.
Unlike the scary cellars featured in some of the books I read while in the mental facility, Baxter’s wine cellar is pleasant. The bottles are rack upon rack of expensive reds and whites without a single dusty cobweb hanging from the ceiling. Crystal wine decanters shimmer in the lamplight while sitting on a bar along the far wall. The sweet smell of spices, cedar, oak from the barrels tickles my nose, while the dampness of the walls coats my skin. The temperature drops the further I walk into the cellar.
“So what do I do now?” I ask.
Lucien spreads his arms wide. “The very thing you did when I first arrived at Baxter’s house.”
“I already told you, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But I do want it. In fact, I’ve been looking forward to it. Now, show me what you've got.”
“Lucien…” I shake my head. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes.
He plucks his hat from his head and flips it so the rim faces the ceiling. After shoving his hand inside, he withdraws it, holding a rabbit. The furry brown creature peers up at me with eyes wide and pink nose wiggling.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“You said you didn’t want to hurt me, but we need something with blood that you can practice on. Hence, the rabbit.”
“Lucien!” My shriek causes the frightened creature to struggle against Lucien’s hold. “I abso-fucking-lutely willnotpractice on that sweet bunny. Now put it back… wherever the hell you got it.”
“If you won’t work with him,” Lucien says with a pointed look at the animal, “then it has to be me.”
“Fine.”
He sets the furry creature on the ground and turns to me with an expectant air. “No more excuses, little bird.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. My heartbeat thrums in my ears, but when I concentrate on Lucien’s, my blood begins to rush through my body, heating me all over. His pulse has a steady cadence.
