Page 60 of Luna

“It’s okay. I won’t pester you for more.”

“You wouldn’t need to pester. I just mean—” Lucien stops when he notices me smiling at him. It is very endearing, the way he can change from being utterly terrifying one minute – like when he was threatening Trent – to almost tender the next. He takes a sip of his coffee. “When did it start? Your illness, I mean. I have to admit, it’s not something I fully understand.”

I hesitate, my fingers tightening around the mug. It’s not something I talk about often, but something tells me he’s willing to listen.

“It started after a car accident. It has a stupid long name – fibromyalgia – but apparently, it can be triggered by traumatic, painful events. Or an accumulation of them. Doctors don’t really understand it. I think the last consultant I saw said it was something to do with the way my brain processes pain signals. But other doctors have said it’s more like ME or Chronic Fatigue.” I laugh dryly, rolling my eyes at myself. “I hate talking about this stuff. Like I said, it’s not exactly sexy.”

“I want to understand.” Lucien shifts closer on the bed, then slides a hand beneath the sheets and squeezes the soft flesh above my waist again. “And, like I said, I find everything about you sexy, Luna.”

Usually, I’d flinch and pull away. Instead, I let him keep his hand there. “The accident happened when I was in college,” I begin, my voice soft. “I was home for the holidays, driving my parents back from my dad’s work Christmas party.”

Lucien leans forward, his full attention on me. I take a deep breath and continue.

“My dad was drunk, which wasn’t exactly unusual for him. They were in the back seat. He started to get angry with my mum, accused her of embarrassing him in front of his colleagues by making a joke at his expense.”

I can feel the tension building in my body as his voice echoes in my ears. How can I remember it so clearly? Even now?

Lucien must sense it too because he gives my waist a gentle squeeze.

“He lunged for her,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I leaned back, trying to help, and the car veered off the road. We rolled into a ditch and hit a tree.”

I fall silent, the memory of screeching tires and shattering glass echoing in my mind. What I don’t tell him is that I blacked out. Before the car veered off the road. I was reaching for my mother and my vision blurred. Everything went hazy and black.

I comb my fingers through my hair and swallow down the lump in my throat.

Lucien doesn’t push, doesn’t ask for more details. Just lets me speak.

“They died.” I shake my head, biting back tears. “Both of them. Because of me.”

“Not because of you.” Lucien’s voice has changed from sympathetic to angry. He takes my chin in his hand and makes me look at him. “Do you hear me? Not because of you.”

I nod at him, still crying.

He takes my coffee mug, and his, and moves them to the bedside table. I reach for his hand. “Lucien?”

“Yes, kitten?”

“Talking about it makes me...” My breath hitches and my hand goes to my thigh, my nails needling my skin. “I need to feel something. I need the memory to go away.”

In one swift movement, he eases me back onto the bed, flips me onto my stomach, and yanks the sheets down.

“I can help with that,” he says, parting my legs and positioning himself behind me. “How would you like to come?”

I wriggle back toward him.

“My hands, my mouth, or my cock?”

“Your mouth, and your fingers.” I feel him settle behind me. Seconds later, his tongue is at my entrance. At first, my mind still whirrs, but as the sensations build in my core and his fingers find the spot that makes wetness flood to my pussy, the noises quiet.

Pleasure takes over.

Lucien takes over.

A few hours later, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to stop my mind doing somersaults. Just as he said they would, the effects of Lucien’s blood are fading already. Not even twelve hours have passed and I’m starting to feel like myself again.

My body aches, a bone-deep weariness. But it has nothing to do with the lots of sex I had with Lucien. No, this is a familiar pain, the kind that settles in my joints and muscles when I’ve pushed myself too hard, when I’ve let my guard down.

And that’s exactly what I’ve done.