Watching them, something twisted in me. This wasn’t some fairytale. It wasn’t polished or delicate. It was raw and it was dark, it was dangerous, but it was very real. A bond, not just words but flesh and blood and vows carried out in the smallest touches.
And I hated the way my body recognized it. Because when Roman kissed Layla’s hair, when his hand lingered at her waist as if to remind her, he was there, all I could think of was Lucien. The way his hand gripped mine even when I slept. The way his kiss burned through every defence I tried to raise.
My stomach knotted, I didn’t want that, I couldn’t want that. But my pulse told another story.
Roman’s gaze flicked to me then, sharp and assessing. For a moment, it felt like he saw straight through me. Not just the bruises on my skin, not just the fatigue in my posture but the bond thrumming under my ribs. He gave a short nod, almost imperceptible, before turning back to Layla, his focus returning to where it belonged.
And just like that, I knew.
That was what Lucien wanted. That was what he meant when he said I was his. That one day, maybe soon I would realise that when he looked at me, it was the same way Roman looked at Layla, like the whole world could burn, and he wouldn’t care as long as I was still standing beside him.
The thought both terrified and thrilled me. Roman had just brushed his lips across Layla’s hair when I felt the heat, sharp and electric, pulling at me like a thread buried under my skin. My head turned before I realized what I was doing.
Lucien filled the nursery doorway, silent as a shadow, but his presence slammed into me like a wave. My pulse jumped, that same treacherous awareness sparking low in my chest. He didn’t look at anyone else. Just me.
The same way Roman had looked at Layla.
His eyes swept over me, cataloguing like Roman had with her. He was checking, making sure I was fine. His mouth tightened, and in that instant, I knew he saw the storm running through me.
“Time to go,” Lucien said, his voice smooth but edged. He stepped closer, close enough that the air shifted with his heat. “You’ll ride home with Troy and Jericho.” His gaze flicked brieflyto Roman before returning to me. “I have business to handle. And Sorcha…”
His hand caught my chin, tilting my face up to his, his fangs flashing just slightly as his voice dropped. “You need to behave, don’t test me again tonight. Don’t try anything. Do you understand?”
A part of me wanted to snap at him, tell him I wasn’t a child to be ordered around. But the bond pulsed between us, sharp and insistent, and instead of fighting, I found myself whispering, “Fine.”
His mouth curved, not a smile, but something darker. And then he kissed me, right there in front of Roman and Layla, his lips hard and claiming, stealing the air from my lungs until I sagged against him. It wasn’t gentle. But beneath the fire was something else, something that made my stomach twist, there was possession threaded with a terrifying kind of tenderness.
When he pulled back, his forehead brushed mine, his breath warm against my lips. “Good girl,” he murmured. “I’ll come home soon.”
And then he let me go, his command already falling into place as Troy and Jericho appeared in the hall.
The ride back was tense, the silence thick in the SUV. Troy drove, eyes on the mirrors, while Jericho sat beside me, his massive frame crowding the seat. I kept my gaze out the window, refusing to admit that without Lucien’s presence beside me, the night felt colder.
It happened fast, as headlights flared behind us, too bright, too close. The SUV jerked as something slammed into the back bumper, hard enough to snap my head forward.
“Hold on,” Troy barked, his knuckles white on the wheel as he tried to steady the vehicle.
Another impact, this one from the side, shoving us toward the ditch. My stomach dropped. Through the rear window, I saw them, there was three cars, their movements sharp as they headed deliberately into us. And then I saw the eyes of one of the drivers, they were glowing.
I remember hearing one of the men mentioning the Demons glowing eyes when he thought I wasn’t listening. My fear escalated when I thought the Demons were after us and Lucien wasn’t with me.
Jericho’s phone was already at his ear, his voice like gravel as the SUV shuddered again under another hit. “Lucien,” he growled. “We’re under attack.”
The line crackled, but Lucien’s voice came through, cold and lethal. “You fucking keep her alive. I’m on my way.”
The SUV swerved, tires screaming against asphalt, and my hands gripped the seat so hard my nails tore into the leather. For the first time since I’d been freed, the cold certainty hit me again. Death was chasing me.
Chapter 12
The night air was sharp, carrying the metallic tang of rain on concrete as Draugr and I stepped out of the mansion. We were heading for the warehouse where he had two Irish bastards waiting to bleed answers, the information I was keen to peel out of them inch by inch.
I should’ve been focused. Instead, a strange pull had tightened in my chest, sharp enough to drag a breath from me. My hand went to my sternum before I even thought about it, pressing hard, trying to ease the ache.
“What is it?” Draugr’s voice was low, his pale eyes narrowing.
Before I could answer, my phone vibrated. Jericho’s name lit the screen. The second I connected, the sound of tires screeching and metal grinding roared through the line.
“Lucien,” Jericho growled, his voice a thunderclap under chaos. “We’re under attack. Demons. They’re trying to run us off the road.”
