AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She groans low, but suddenly her seeking fingers change to pushing my head away. I don’t want to let her nipple go, and I give her a warning bite. She doesn’t heed it.
“No, Lucian,” she rasps out hoarsely.
I inhale more of her beautiful breast, moaning around her areola, desperate and greedy for more.
Her fingers slip away and her tone hardens. “No.”
I squeeze my eyes together and release my suction on her breast. Fuck, her nipple looks glorious, blotchy and pink from my ministrations. I can even see the faint arc of my front teeth from where I bit her. My teeth. My mark.Mine.
I lift my gaze to her. Her eyes flash with anger. She turns away from me, hiding that beauty from me, and tosses a withering glare over her shoulder. “Thanks a lot. That’s the second school shirt you’ve ruined.”
With jerky movements, she throws her hoodie over her torn shirt, stuffs her books and laptop into her purple backpack, and hauls out of my sanctuary like a bat out of hell.
I slump into my chair.
That went about as well as could be expected.
CHAPTER11
LUCIAN
Star plasters herself against the wall of the art gallery, doing her best to blend in.
She eyes the crowd, her gaze passing over the entire gallery, including me, but she doesn’t notice me. Thank fuck, she was in the gallery by the time I got inside, otherwise there would be hell to pay. Who am I kidding, there’s going to be hell to pay anyway. She was wandering the city again, in direct defiance of my order.
I’m still livid from when I caught her slipping out of her house. She’s been ignoring the texts I sent asking when we should meet up for tutoring, but that’s not why I was standing guard outside her house.
Don’t ask me why. I refuse to ask myself that question, knowing I won’t like the answer.
I did a double take when I noticed the fancy dress she had on. Where the hell was her mother? Star mentioned that she drank, but everyone drinks in our world. That’s no excuse for not watching over your only daughter.
I barely refrained from lunging forward to reprimand her, stepping back into the shadows just in the nick of time.
My head almost exploded when I followed her to the corner and saw her wave to an Uber, which was obviously on standby, and slip into the back seat as if it were nothing. I had surreptitiously installed a tracking app on her phone after I found her in the Village. It didn’t take long for me to get into my car and follow the dot to the far western end of Chelsea.
The neighborhood looked deserted, except for a bodega at the corner and an art gallery with people spilling out into the dark, empty street. Slipping into the gallery, I easily found her and kept my distance, simmering with anger.
The gallery’s an enormous, converted warehouse with three huge rolling garage doors. It might’ve once been a humble old building, but inside, it’s a cathedral-like space that breathes luxury. Aided by the skylight crossing the upper part of an entire wall, the light and airy space accentuates the photographs on display.
I don’t recognize the exhibition of self-portraits that look like old Hollywood film stills, but then again, why would I? I don’t do art. I may not know what’s going on, but this retrospective must be a big deal because the place is packed. I catch Star stamping her feet in delight and her eyes glisten with excitement as she takes everything in.
A waiter passes her carrying a tray of champagne flutes. She snags one and takes a big gulp of liquid courage. Smart girl that she is, she swipes a puffed pastry thing from another passing tray.
I’m torn between being spellbound by her, impressed by her pluck, and downright pissed that she snuck out alone in the middle of the night.
Star pops the puffy thingamajig into her mouth. Her eyes close as she savors whatever she’s eating. They pop back open and she does a double take.
Fucking finally.
I’ve been spotted through the wall-to-wall throngs of people. I was wondering how long it would take her.
“Lucian,” she mouths my name.
Choking down the rest of her food, she takes another large swig of champagne. I see her mind working. I’m here, at a gallery opening, on the western extremity of Chelsea. Not someplace a guy like me would be.
Which means, I’m here for her.
Damn right, I am.
