ADELINE

 

THE NEXT MORNING, I wake up slowly, still groggy from exhaustion and pain medication that Jackson's been feeding to me sporadically.

Late last night, when Jax came to check on me and help me to the bathroom, I noticed that Lucien was still in the bed with me.  He was curled up on his side with his back towards me, but at least he stayed.  He didn't leave the moment I fell asleep like I thought for sure he would.

Luc had been snoring softly, exhausted and sleeping like a baby, as Jax brought me back to bed, gave me pills and a glass of water to swallow them down.  Jax's steel-gray eyes kept darting from me and back to Lucien with a look of disbelief on his face.

After I took my medicine, I simply shrugged, silently telling him that I couldn't believe Lucien was actually sleeping in the same bed as me either.

After my midnight pill popping fest, I fell back into a deep sleep once more.

Now, when I open my eyes and glance over, I notice that the bed is empty.  My hand slides over to where Lucien had slept, but the sheets are cold.  He's been gone a while.

A creaking sound catches my attention, and my eyes move to the antique armoire on the other side of the room.  With his back towards me, Lucien is standing in front of the two open doors.  His hair is damp, fresh from the shower, and he's only wearing a pair of black dress pants.

The light coming in from the windows highlights the numerous and scattered scars on his beautiful, muscular back.  I've never seen them before…only felt them.  I knew they were bad.  But seeing them with my own eyes is a whole different story.

The scars may have healed over time, but only on the surface.  I'm worried about the dark and horrible memories that most likely lie beneath each and every one of them.  They're permanent reminders that someone he trusted hurt him.

And I desperately want to know who did this to him.

Lucien reaches into the armoire and retrieves a crisp, pressed white dress shirt.  He slips the material over his shoulders, effectively hiding his scars and the truth about his past underneath a layer of cotton and polyester blend.

I surreptitiously watch him as he buttons the shirt and cuffs, running his hands down the sleeves and his chest several times to make sure there are no creases and that everything is in place.

He leaves the top few buttons undone and goes sans tie and suit jacket as he closes the doors and turns.  He stops when his dark eyes meet mine.  His thick brows knit together as he utters, "You're awake."

I feel guilty for having observed him like some kind of beautiful animal locked in a cage.  "Good morning to you too," I quip.

Needing to break out of his stare, I glance around the opulent room where I was brought when I must have been unconscious.  Seeing it in the light for the first time, I take in the dark woods and masculine quality of the furnishings.

My hazy mind finally clears as it dawns on me just where I am.  "This is…this is your room?" I ask.

His features soften slightly as he gives me a nod.

"You brought me to your room?" I ask in disbelief.  I was probably covered in dirt and who knows what else when they brought me here.  He let me sleep in his bed and dirty up his sheets?

But why?

"I'm responsible for you," Lucien says, eerily answering the question in my head.  "And for what happened," he adds in a dark whisper.

Does he blame himself for what happened to me?

Unfortunately, whenever I'm around Lucien, I always end up with more questions than answers.

As I try to sit up, I grit my teeth from the pain running through my body.  I need something for the pain.  And, luckily, Jax left a bottle of meds on the nightstand.

Lucien sees me eyeing up the bottle and says, "I'll be right back with a glass of water."

A few minutes later, Luc returns and watches over me as I take the medicine.

I down the glass of water all in one clip, trying to quench an undeniable thirst.  Jax had told me the pills would dry me out.  He wasn't kidding.

When I polish off the glass, Lucien takes it from me and sets it down on the nightstand.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, and his apprehensive tone makes it sound like a loaded question.

"I'm okay," I answer as honestly as I can, and even I don't know if I'm meaning mentally or physically.

I'll heal physically over time with some rest, but the assault definitely left me with some mental scars that will never heal.  The fear I still feel is so strong it's tangible.

Looking down at the shirt I was wearing when Rafael attacked me, I see it's covered in dirt…and blood.

Gulping, I tear my eyes away from the blatant reminder.  "I just…I really want to take a shower," I tell him, trying to force the tremor out of my voice, but failing miserably.

He stares at me for a long time, his eyes watching me warily.  Then he nods again and gently pulls back the covers before stepping back and giving me space.

Slowly, I sit up, but the pounding in my head is already throbbing from the change in position.  I swing my legs down over the side of the bed.  The room starts to spin, and I clutch onto the sheets, balling the cool material into my fists.

My feet haven't even touched the ground yet, and I realize I'm in a precarious situation.  I'll never make it to the bathroom on my own.

Closing my eyes, my jaw clenches shut and I cringe through the pain and discomfort.  "Maybe you should get Jax to help me shower," I suggest.

When Lucien doesn't respond or leave to go get Jax, I slowly open my eyes and peek up at him.  His brows are pinched together in frustration, and for a moment I think I've angered him in some way.

Then, his dark eyes pierce mine.  "I'm not letting Jax undress you…and touch you…and…"  His voice trails off as his hands clench at his sides.

And it's then that I realize Lucien isn't angry with me.

He's jealous.

Before I can even comprehend Lucien's reaction, he's reaching for me and scooping me into his arms.  I yelp from the sudden movement, but am thankful that the room decided not to turn upside down.

Lucien stares down at me.  "You good?" he asks softly.

I give him a small nod of assurance and rest my head against his warm chest.  His heart is beating so damn fast against my ear, it sounds like a fast and steady drum.

The walk to the en-suite is short, and Lucien carefully sets me down near the double sink to lean against.  The shower is encased with glass doors and has two oversized showerheads in the ceiling and numerous jets encased in the tiled wall.  There are built-in shelves and a matching tiled bench.

His bathroom looks like something straight out of a magazine.

"You know your bathroom is bigger than most people's apartments in New York City.  And the showerheads look like they're made for elephants.  Which I'm pretty sure you could definitely fit one in here…or maybe even two," I tell him with a grin.

The corner of his mouth upturns at my remark, and I'm happy that I almost got a smile out of him.

Turning towards the sink with the intention of finding some toothpaste, I catch my reflection in the mirror.  I gasp in horror at the girl standing there before me.  Bruised and battered with tired, hollow eyes…it doesn't even look like me.

Tears instantly fill my eyes before Lucien is grabbing my arms and turning me away from the shocking image.  "Don't," he whispers.  "It may look bad now…but you'll heal.  You just need time," he vehemently assures me, and I can hear the empathy in his voice as if he's been through this somehow or maybe experienced it with someone else.

I nod, sniffling and wiping away a stray tear gliding down my cheek.  "I just…I just wanted to brush my teeth," I tell him weakly.  "Even if you just have some toothpaste…" I start to say, but Lucien is already opening a drawer filled with brand new, packaged toothbrushes all in the same color and style.

"Take your pick," he tells me.  "There's blue or…the same shade of blue."  He clears his throat and looks at me apprehensively.

I stare at him.  Did he just attempt to make some semblance of a joke?  I grin at him and watch as his expression softens.  "Thank you," I say before grabbing one.

After he hands me an unopened tube of toothpaste, I set out to quickly brush and rinse my teeth all while avoiding my reflection in the mirror.

After I'm done, I turn slowly and smile up at Lucien.  "I feel a little better already," I remark.

"Good," he says sincerely.  There's an expression on his face that I've never seen before and can't quite decipher.

While he goes to the huge walk-in tiled shower and turns on the water, I start to get undressed.  I stumble a few times, cursing at the dizziness that seems to keep hitting me, but I manage to remove all my clothes.

Lucien steps out, and his dark eyes greedily scan my naked body, sending licks of fire all over my skin.

When his gaze reaches my neck, however, his entire demeanor changes.  I can practically see the cogs inside of his mercurial brain turning and the anger coming off of him in waves.

"Lucien," I whisper, my voice shaking.

His eyes snap up to meet mine, and some of his anger begins to melt away.  Without saying a word, he stalks over to me and helps me to the shower, holding the door open for me as I walk inside on my own.

I hold onto the tiled wall and make my way to the gentle mist that's raining down from the large showerhead above.  Lucien must have put it on a low setting just for me, and I'm again amazed by his thoughtfulness.

Standing under the spray, I'm barely able to suppress the moan that comes from my lips.  The water feels so good on my tender skin, and I just want to wash the memories of that horrible event away.

I hear the shower door open and turn my head, gasping when I see Lucien's naked form coming towards me.  Silently, my eyes follow his every move as he removes a few items from the built-in shelves.

"W-what are you doing?" I ask him hesitantly.

"Helping you," he states matter-of-factly.

With methodical precision, he soaps up a white washcloth before pressing it against my bare shoulder.  My eyes drift close as he very carefully begins to wash my back.  I lean my forehead against the tile, relishing in the feeling of the washcloth, the clean scent of the soap and the steam from the shower surrounding us.

There are a million things on the tip of my tongue, but I just can't seem to get my mouth to cooperate.  I want to tell Lucien thank you for saving me, thank you for taking care of me, thank you for…killing for me.

I shiver at the last thought, and Lucien is quick to ask, "Water not hot enough?"

I shake my head, unable to even speak in fear of telling him something I'll regret.  I'm not quite sure where Lucien and I stand at this moment.  Is he taking care of me so that I get better quicker and he can send me away?

He saw what Rafael was doing to me.  Even though he didn't manage to do…everything…am I damaged goods to Lucien now?

I notice how he keeps the washcloth between my body and his hand, his skin never actually touching mine.

Maybe he sees me as dirty now.

Tainted.

When he moves me around to face him, I search his eyes for any signs of desire or heat that I'm used to seeing in them.

But there's nothing there.  Even the heavy cock between his muscular legs remains flaccid.

He simply continues washing me in a way that a caretaker would wash a patient…mechanical and detached.

When Lucien's hand stops suddenly at my inner thighs, I glance down and gasp when I see the scratch marks left behind by Rafael's filthy hands.  A tremor courses through me when I realize how close he was to raping me…maybe even killing me.

And now I'm seeing what Lucien is undoubtedly seeing when he looks at me — a used up, dirty thing and not the perfect and pure woman I once was.

The washcloth falls from Lucien's hand and slaps against the wet, tiled floor as he steps back suddenly.  "Fuck," he growls, squeezing his eyes shut with his white teeth gritted and bared in fury.

"You don't have to do this, Lucien," I tell him quickly, tears blurring my vision.

"Yes, I do," he snaps angrily.  "I want to take care of you, Adeline," he says, softer this time.

"Why?" I ask, unable to stop the question from blurting out of my mouth.

"Because I know what you're going through, and I…I never had anyone there to take care of me," he whispers without meeting my eyes.

My breath hitches at his confession.  Lucien said so much in those two small sentences, and I can feel an ache growing inside my chest for him.  I think about his horrible scars and what he must have gone through as a small child to receive each and every one of them.

My throat burns as I try to keep the tears at bay, but it's futile, and soon they're overflowing, sliding down my cheeks in small rivulets.  "I'm sorry," I say, my voice breaking.

Lucien's eyes blaze and zero in on me as they scan my face.  With brows furrowed, he takes a step towards me and cups my face in his hands.

I gasp at his sudden touch.

"What are you sorry for?" he demands.

I'm not sure what he wants to hear right now, so I just go with what I'm feeling right now.  "I'm sorry…for everything.  I'm sorry for what happened to you in the past.  I'm sorry for trying to leave.  And I'm sorry that I'm not…clean for you anymore."  I squeeze my eyes shut, effectively blocking out his devastatingly handsome face.  Shuddering, I choke out on a sob, "I…I feel so dirty."

His hands grip my face a little tighter, forcing my eyes to pop open.  "You're not dirty," he tells me angrily.  "It's not your fault what happened to you, Adeline."  He pushes me up against the hard, unforgiving tile before saying, "You could never be anything less than perfect to me.  Don't you get that?  You're the purest and most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire fucking life."

Before I can respond to him or even comprehend what he just said to me, his lips smash against mine in a bruising, possessive kiss.  His tongue parts my lips, and he dominates my mouth, claiming every inch of me.

I keep my palms pressed against the tiles, afraid of touching him and breaking the spell he has us both under.

He groans, and I swallow it down, wanting more and more of him and never wanting to stop.

But all too quickly, he's pulling away.  He releases a shuddering breath as his dark eyes pierce mine.  "I won't let anyone hurt you ever again," he promises vehemently, and I believe him with my heart and soul.

I watch as he retrieves a fresh, white washcloth from the shelf and applies a copious amount of soap until it's a sudsy lather in his large hands.  Then he meticulously washes me from head to toe, allowing his fingers and hands to periodically skate over my bare skin this time.

It feels so good that I just close my eyes and allow him to make me feel clean again.

I know I should hate Lucien for what he's done and the fact that he keeps me here as his prisoner.  But the truth of the matter is I don't hate Lucien.  In fact, I could never hate him.

Because I think I'm slowly starting to fall in love with him.