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“Oh?” he purred.
I stopped trying to talk. A blush rose from my neck to my cheeks.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Lucien leaned in while still holding my gaze. I held my breath as I watched him move closer until his lips brushed against my ear. “Because of the bond between you two, Daiman can feel your intense emotions. Even your distress.” I sucked in a breath, and my eyes flared wide. “Because Daiman and I are close, I’m made aware of everything. Even about you.”
I swallowed hard and stared into Lucien’s eyes as he leaned back, watching me like a buzzard waiting for its snack to keel over.
“I’m fine,” I whispered, hoping he’d believe it.
He raised an eyebrow. “So you’re not experiencing symptoms right now?”
It would be paranoia if I had any symptoms right now, but I would take a guess and say that my worry was real this time. I didn’t realize Lucien and Daiman were close to each other like that.
I licked my lips, and Lucien dropped his gaze to my mouth.
“I have a bond with Daiman?” I asked. My voice cracked.
The first bus stopped in front of the front doors, its brakes squeaking, but I didn’t dare to look away from Lucien as he stared at me.
“Yes, and it’ll get stronger as you two become”—he smirked—“closer.”
The doors opened, and students came in, some talking to each other.
Lucien dipped his chin in a slight nod. “I’ll see you in class, little sinner.”
I watched as he brushed past me and walked away.
My heart wouldn’t slow down, and now I worried Daiman could feel my fear and anguish. I’d been close to telling Lucien everything, hoping he would do something about my dad. But that was just wishful thinking. He wouldn’t do anything because he didn’t care about me, and if I told Daiman, he’d likely blame it all on me.
49
LUCIEN
Daiman had been right. The little succubus was hiding something. I’d watched her exit the car and rush to the school entrance. Something happened, and it wasn’t because of her schizophrenia symptoms. But what did I know? I didn’t have the mental illness and wouldn’t ever know what it was like to have a “split” mind.
Classes dragged by, and I impatiently waited for when I next saw Grace in class.
The day she graduated—if I hadn’t already convinced her to drop out—would be the day I’d be done playing as God’s priest. I could return to my music and life, forgetting about the girl while Daiman watched over her. They were bonded, and breaking that bond would slowly kill them. I had to push away the jealousy. Had anyone else bonded to her, I’d have snapped their necks and cut off their wings for just breathing in her direction.
I wasn’t gentle, loving, or anything nice. That was beyond my capability. I was fully aware the little sinner deserved someone who could be everything I wasn’t.
My teeth ground together as I threw the students’ tests on my desk. I had to grade them during the break when they all ate lunch, but I needed to find Grace and make sure she hadn’t fed on some poor kid who didn’t know what was happening.
My cock hardened as I imagined her in my office, bent over the desk with her skirt raised above her waist.
Shaking the mental image away, I sat in the chair and grabbed a red ink pen.
“Father Lucien,” a soft voice said from behind my office door, followed by a gentle knock.
I raised my head and narrowed my eyes. “Enter.”
The door squeaked open, and in walked Samantha with her study Bible against her chest. She dipped her head, too shy to look me in the eye as she pulled the door until it was only cracked open.
“How can I help you, Miss Samantha?” I said as I leaned back in my seat and steepled my fingers.
She nibbled on her bottom lip and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I . . . I know it’s been you at the confession booth, and well . . .” She raised her head and looked me dead in the eye. “I have a confession.”
I raised an eyebrow. “They are meant to be anonymous, Miss Samantha. Can it not wait until later?”
