us to stay.”
“You could.” Lucien response was a whisper. They strolled, as casual as sated lovers, down the brightly lit hall of the hotel. Her steps slowed and he drew to a halt, his fingers still intertwined with hers. “Do you want to go back?”
She squeezed his hand. “Reese wanted to remain behind. I couldn't leave you alone.”
“One more night wouldn't make any difference.” He admitted.
That was the difference between them, she realized. Despite their differences, she could call on her family whenever she needed them.
Lucien was different. His father had been a sadistic dictator more interested in murder and mayhem, and his brother hunted him. He had suffered an eternity of loneliness and sadness, trapped in a world never of his own making.
She didn't want him to be alone again.
“I’ll stay with you, Lucien.” Her whisper was soft and oh-so-feminine to his frayed senses.
“You don’t…”
“I went with you, I came back with you. Besides,” she attempted to interject some levity into the conversation. “I couldn't have you wandering the streets of Miami all by yourself. You might replace me with some saucy Caribbean vixen.”
He managed to smile weakly. She could never be replaced, this starlight that shone so bright even in his normalized vision. There wasn't another woman in the world that equaled the power she held over him.
“Thus, you opt to remain with me, the most damned of damned?” He lifted his gloved hand from his side and flexed it. Her eyes never shifted from his face, and her features softened perceptibly.
“Thus, Lucien, I opted to stay with the person who needs me the most,” Eva responded in kind. He leaned toward her, his expression unreadable. “Consider it the spirit of the season.”
“Then grant me one wish, in the spirit of the season, Evie.” He whispered fervently.
“Oh, not you, too.” She grumbled and shook her head.
“What?”
“Evie,” she scowled but didn't remove her hand from his tight grip.
“Your family calls you that, do they not?” He questioned, already knowing the response. It was the simpler version of her name, far gentler than the name she chose for her profession.
She rolled her eyes and shifted on her feet, tottering on her heels.
“I prefer it when you call me Evangeline.” She admitted and a slight flush crept into her face. Attempting to make her mind blank, she focused the pulse throbbing in a slow and steady pace at the base of his throat.
“Evangeline?”
His throaty pronunciation warmed her and she nodded.
“You never use your proper name.” He pointed out. “Everything is Eva, or Evie.”
She stared into his adored but troubled features.
“I just like the way you say Evangeline.” She admitted and saw the smile creep into his eyes. Her breath became tight and her heart began to thud wildly. Desperate to clear her traitorous thoughts of seduction, she cleared her throat and changed the subject. “What do you wish, Lucien?”
His gloved hand rose to her cheek and he cupped the softness, his touch poignantly gentle.
“Stay with me tonight.”
Her heart did the oddest thing by catapulting into her throat, the beat intense. Her blood roared in her ears, and her face flamed with betraying heat.
“Lucien?”
“No.” He repeated the word several times, flushing with color. “I didn't mean….” He closed his eyes and struggling for a coherent thought. “Merde!”
Eva understood the explicative.
“Are you…?”
“Am I capable?” He dropped his hand and raked trembling fingers through his hair. Lucien blushed furiously and closed his eyes in embarrassment. “I don't know.”
“What do you mean, you don't know?”
“I haven't had…. relations with a woman since I was young.”
“Young?”
“Damn it all, Evangeline!” He snarled, his eyes flying wide. “I haven't….” He foundered for words, mortified. “Not since,” he exhaled. “Not since my actual youth!”
“Oh?” Absently, she tallied the years within her head.
“Don't count, Evangeline.” He snapped without any heat. “You're humiliating me.”
She winked, stilling the series of numbers.
“For once,” he paused, refusing to release her hand. He appeared relieved when she didn't attempt to extract her fingers. “I want to know warmth when I sleep. I want to remember what it feels like to dream. I want to feel the comfort of another person at my side.”
He wanted pleasant dreams and comfort. The words whispered repeatedly in her head, soft and pleading, gently coaxing. The temptation was there, so silvery soft.
“No sex.” She wondered if she were tempting fate as the words fell from her trembling lips.
“No sex.”
She felt strangely disappointed and considered his words. He was wretchedly serious, which she found disarming and enchanting. Eva nodded in response,