He caught her flinch at his mocking words. It wounded him but he ignored it. He’d make it up to her and she’d forgive him. At that moment he had to make her understand.
“That wasn’t nice,” she whispered.
“No, it wasn’t. I wasn’t trying to be nice, pet. I was trying to get it through that thick, stubborn head of yours that this is serious.”
Her eyes flashed. “I may be stubborn, Lucien…” she hesitated, looking strangely but also hilariously confused for a second then repeated, “Lucien Whatever-your-last-name-is, but I’m not stupid. I think I get it. Certain death is a pretty big motivator to keep a secret.”
When she stopped speaking, she glared at him. He returned her glare. He felt her discomfort well before he was ready to back down.
Finally and waspishly she demanded to know, “What is your last name anyway?”
Lucien relaxed, partially because he believed she understood his concern, mostly because she was amusing.
“Vampires don’t have last names.”
Her anger dissipated, her eyes grew wide and she replied, “So, you’re like Cher? Madonna? You’re just Lucien?”
“Cher and Madonna were born with surnames, they simply don’t use them. But I am ‘just Lucien’.”
Her eyes slid to his shoulder and she mumbled, “How weird.”
Gently, Lucien reminded her, “It’s far from weird.”
Her gaze shot back to his, it went soft and her body became pliant underneath him.
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” she whispered, each word clearly heartfelt.
Christ, she was sweet.
Twenty years of watching her and hearing of her, he’d had a good idea of what he’d get when he finally had her.
At that moment, he realized he’d had no idea.
And this added blessing settled warmly in his gut.
His weight eased into her soft body and she automatically accommodated it.
He touched his lips to hers and rested their foreheads together. “I know you didn’t, sweetling.”
Her hand slid up to rest on his chest before she asked softly, “Are you going to stop being Scary Lucien now?”
“I’m never Scary Lucien,” he replied and she gave him a look so disbelieving it was comical.
Therefore he shoved his face in her neck and burst out laughing.
He rolled them yet again, positioning her against his side partially on top and she raised her head to look at him as his laughter died down to a chuckle. He lifted his hand to touch her eyebrow with a finger and he smoothed it across the arched line. With his movement, as he’d intended, her face gentled and his finger drifted down her cheek where he touched her lips with his middle three fingertips.
“You never have to be scared of me, sweetheart,” he told her quietly but firmly as his hand dropped away.
She surprised him by asking, “What about when your anger fills the room like a physical thing?”
He wound his arms around her and gathered her closer. “If that happens, Leah, then it happens. There are times when I’ll get angry but no matter how angry I get, you never have anything to fear.”
Regardless of his words and the feeling behind them she persevered. “What about when your body goes all funny?”
He blinked slowly before repeating, “My body goes all funny?”
“Yeah, it gets stiff, the muscles all tense, stand out. I can’t explain it, but –”