“Stop talking,” he demanded and I snapped my mouth shut.
Something was wrong.
I’d never expected to say any of this to him but I thought the time was right. Cards on the table. He won.
I thought he’d be happy. He won.
Why wasn’t he happy?
Why did he look so… freaking… mad?
“Lucien –” I started but he interrupted me.
“So you think you’re my whore,” he stated and I winced.
I wouldn’t put it that way. I mean, it kind of was that way but even my mind was shying away from that terminology.
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” I said quietly.
“How would you put it? You think you’re here to service me. You think your job is to let me feed from you and f**k you whenever I want. Your job.” He spit out the last word like it tasted foul and he couldn’t bear it in his mouth. “So, how, exactly, would you put it, my pet?”
“I’m your concubine,” I reminded him, thinking that said it all.
I thought this because it did!
He watched me a moment and I watched him back. Mainly I watched his eyes working and I didn’t like the way they were working.
Then his arm moved, it was a blur and nearly instantly his wine glass shattered against the wall. The strength of the throw was so immense, the glass was sand, the liquid in it splashed in a tall, wide mark against the wall.
I stared over my shoulder at the wall. Then I looked at him, mouth hanging open.
“Have you been paying attention,” he growled, hesitated then kept growling, “at all?”
I felt my body start to tremble at the ferocity in his gaze.
“Lucien –” I whispered, unsure what I was going to say but, whatever it was I didn’t get the chance to say it.
“I’ve a mind,” he talked over me, gone was the growl, his voice was back to silky smooth, “to show you what being my whore would mean.”
I had the feeling this was not good.
My heart started beating so fast I could feel my pulse in my neck.
“Yes, sweetheart,” his voice was still silky smooth, “you wouldn’t like it.”
My breath started coming in pants.
He stood, got close and looked down at me. I tilted my head to look up at him.
“For the record, Leah,” he said softly, “I didn’t f**k Kitty last night.” He leaned in and his voice dropped to a whisper. “She wanted it, even begged for it. She begged to touch me, begged for the chance to take me in her mouth, begged me to f**k her.” He leaned in closer, his hand came up, fingers curling around my neck and I saw him hold his body rigid as if he was controlling an impulse and I held my breath. “I was tempted, I’ll admit, but in the end she didn’t smell like you and she didn’t taste like you and she didn’t look like you so I could scarcely bear to feed from her which is all I f**king did.”
Before I knew it, he was gone. Whoosh.
I heard the garage door go up, the Porsche roared to life and then the garage door went back down.
The entire time I sat there, not knowing what to do or how to feel, especially about the fact that he just gave me another weird, but extraordinary, compliment.
What I did know was that I, again, managed to screw things up. Even though I thought I was doing the right thing for myself, for my family, for Lucien even.