This wasn’t true. When he discovered the enemy had tortured and murdered his mate, he’d behaved with a driven, desperate need for fifty years. First fighting then hunting anyone who had anything to do with those who brought about Maggie’s death.
Why he felt that need now, outside a reaction to the nightmare, he didn’t know.
What he did know was that he wasn’t going to tell Leah that he’d shared her dream. This would likely alarm her and until he understood what was happening he intended to shelter her from that.
So in an effort to shield her, Lucien lied.
He moved his h*ps and her muscles contracted deliciously around his still-hard cock.
“I think the answer to that is fairly obvious, pet.”
“I… you… we,” she stammered, “it’s never been like that.”
His fingers sifted in her hair and he murmured, “We’ve only been lovers one night, Leah.”
Her body jerked and he caught her again before her movements could break their joining, something which he was compelled to prolong, again for reasons unknown.
“I don’t mean it’s never been like that between you and me. I mean it’s never been like that for me ever. Maybe for any woman in the history of time.”
Drama, he thought in a moment of amusement before his gut clenched in memory.
I’m not being dramatic! she retorted and his body jolted in shock.
He hadn’t been speaking to her. Or, more accurately, he hadn’t meant for her to hear.
“Did you hear me?” he asked.
“Yes, you were talking to me. Or, I should say, making fun of me.” She tried to move again but he kept her pinned to him. “Let me up,” she demanded.
His arms grew tight before he responded, “I want to feel you around me for a little while longer.”
She pressed against him. “Let… me… up!”
He let her up but only her torso. He kept her h*ps fixed to his with an arm about her waist.
She glared down at him, her hair falling about her face in waves. Looking at her, finally he felt the clutch of the nightmare release.
This was Leah, his Leah, now fully his, all of her.
Not running, not hiding, not climbing a scaffold, she was alive and, apparently, angry.
This made him smile which made her glare turn to a scowl which, in turn, made his smile deepen.
“You seem in an immensely foul mood for someone who just came twice,” he remarked.
Her eyes widened, her anger accelerated, he knew because her heart did as well taking his with it. She opened her mouth to speak and then suddenly shook her head and looked to the side.
Then she muttered, “Why couldn’t I be some other immortal’s concubine? A werewolf. Or Frankenstein, I could escape Frankenstein. He doesn’t move very fast. A wraith would be good, they’re ethereal. I could probably slip…”
She hadn’t noticed his body freeze but she stopped talking when he whipped her to her back. Disconnecting their joining, he settled on top of her, pinning her to the bed.
She stared up at him in surprise.
“What do you know of other immortals?” he demanded, savage fury tingeing his voice primarily because he was savagely furious.
She reacted to the fury. He smelled it and he heard it and he didn’t give a f**k.
“Wh… what?”