Or maybe it was just the madness setting in.
Holding up the bowl of shredded chicken breast I’d found in the fridge, I wriggled it. “Midnight snack?”
The panther huffed and arrowed straight for the offering.
Placing the bowl beside me, I stroked the panther’s huge solid head while he wolfed down the chicken. Leaving him to enjoy his feast, I grabbed the juicy apple I’d left on the windowsill so the afternoon sun would make it extra sweet.
I moaned as I bit into the crisp fruit.
Reclining against the soft cushions, I closed my eyes to enjoy a moment of companionship in the dead of night.
Whisper nudged my knee, searching for more.
“Greedy-guts. No more I’m afraid.”
He growled.
I laughed and stuck the apple in my mouth.
I went to bite, but a sound wrenched my eyes open.
My heart stopped.
A shadow lurched into my doorway, illuminated by the braziers and firelight blazing outside.
Lucien sagged against the doorframe.
Jet black hair hung down his handsome cheeks, shivering as he tipped forward in utter agony. His right hand clutched his heart. He panted as if he’d run here, swaying as if he was moments away from passing out.
Our eyes met and held.
His chest heaved as he braced a hand against the doorframe, his breath sawing in and out, a feverish sheen burning in his eyes.
Whisper rumbled a welcome, moving toward his master, but Lucien staggered inside.
He crossed the room with unsteady strides.
He wrenched to a halt over me, looking as if he’d fall.
I cowered backward, unsure what mood he was in but with a savage groan, he tipped forward, smashed one hand against the window frame, and grabbed my apple with his other. Yanking it out of my mouth, he tossed it over his shoulder.
My pulse jumped as he grabbed my wrist.
“What are y—” I gasped as he jerked me upright.
No warning, no explanation.
He half-stalked, half-stumbled toward the bed, dragging me with him.
When we were close enough, he grabbed me by the shoulders, spun me around and pushed.
I went sprawling.
The black silk nightgown I’d chosen to wear matched his familiar uniform. The only difference was my skin was cool from moon watching and his was ablaze with fire.
The bed creaked as he landed heavily beside me.
“Lucien—”
He hauled me against him, rolling on top of me, his arms banding tight as steel. His forehead crashed to mine, his sweat dampening my skin, his chest plastered to mine with every shuddering breath.
Scalding heat rolled off him as if he burned from the inside out. His whole frame quaked, every shiver full of torture.
I froze beneath him, panic colliding with something else, something worse.
Having him touch me. Crush me. His weight and heat and very existence didn’t just push me into the mattress but soaked into my very soul.
All those days we’d spent in each other’s orbit—silently watching but never thawing. All those hours we existed highly aware of the other but too stubborn to actually talk.
I’d spent more time with this man than anyone else in seven years, yet I didn’t know him. Not enough to be so intimately wrapped up in him or for my heart to become so rebellious.
“Lucien...”
He groaned in response, grinding his forehead harder against mine, clinging to me as if I was the only thing keeping him from bursting apart.
Was I allowed to touch him?
How was I supposed to help when I had no idea what I was doing?
My arms stayed rigid at my sides as his weight crushed me, his breath searing over my lips. He wrapped himself around me as if I were the only anchor left in the world, his hands fisting my nightgown, dragging me tighter into his fevered cage.
My crystal raindrop pendant bruised my sternum, trapped against his chest and mine. We were so close, the cold bite of the circular piece of metal over his heart felt horrifically wrong compared to the rest of his burning flesh.
He groaned again, his forehead sliding off mine as he hooked his chin over my shoulder and buried his face into the pillow. He sucked in a shuddering breath. His body hitched violently. His arms spasmed painfully tight.
Whisper whimpered beside us, his whiskers tickling my cheek as he nuzzled me, probably wondering what the hell was going on.
Lucien cried out, guttural and raw, and...I couldn’t do it.
I didn’t care what he’d do to me afterward or how he’d read the scenario of us in bed together but...I reached up with shaking arms. My fingers hovered above his back, hesitant and wary but he jerked again, and my heart made the decision for me.
I let my hands fall.
His skin was fever-hot beneath his shirt, heat billowing off him like waves from a furnace. My palms flattened on his shoulder blades, trembling as I slid them lower, feeling the tremor of muscles knotted tight with pain.
He stiffened; a strangled sound echoed in his chest.
Skimming my fingers up his spine again, I cupped his nape.
He convulsed.
His thick, damp hair rested over my knuckles as I whispered, “It’s okay.”
Lowering my hands again, I followed the contours and tightness of his back. My thumbs traced slow circles along his spine, kneading out the knots I found.
He shuddered and collapsed completely on top of me, his legs settling between my spread ones, his chest to my chest, and that awful hard disc like a large icy medallion against my breast.
“You’re alright,” I whispered, not sure I was doing the right thing but unable to stop.
He shuddered again, but the violent jerks from before began to ebb. His breath slipped into rhythm instead of chaos, hot and heavy against my collarbone. His furnace heat slowly faded as if being this close to me truly did help calm him down.
I lost track of how long we lay like that.
I didn’t stop to think how it would look to others or what it would mean when we broke apart.
I just kept stroking him.
Whisper yawned and lay down beside the bed, his glowing eyes never looking away.
No matter my friendship with the huge cat, I had no doubt he’d bite my hands off if I injured his master.
Lucien shifted a little, pressing all of himself against all of me.
I stiffened as I became highly aware of all the places where we were joined.
A low, rough sound left him, heavy with relief. His arms unbanded around me, letting my back rest far more comfortably on the bed. One of his hands slid up my side, his fingers splaying over my ribs.
He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding against mine. When he exhaled, it wasn’t a broken gasp but a long, shaky sigh. His body softened, melting against me until he was heavy instead of tense, calm instead of burning.
I closed my eyes as his fingers strayed to my waist. His heart still thundered, but the jagged edge finally smoothed. The medical scent of his fever began to fade, replaced by the faint, bitter flavour of blood.
Tilting his head, his lips moved against my throat—not a kiss, just a slow exhale as his hand slipped from my waist and pressed against the mattress.
I expected him to push upright. To break our overwhelming embrace. But...
His breath ghosted over my throat again, slower this time. Hotter.
The world shrank to the weight of him above me, the burning closeness, the tension that cut sharper than a knife.
In a single breath, he made me ache and ache and ache.
I couldn’t move.
Didn’t want to break the spell or face the repercussions.
His head lifted, skimming his nose along my neck, my jaw...
The air between us throbbed.
The silver disc over his heart pressed against me with warning.
He shifted closer, his hips sinking deeper between my legs as his mouth hovered over mine.
My eyes popped wide, trying to see if he knew what he was doing, knew how close he was to—
