The Nightmare
STEPHANIE, COSMO, AVERY, Rafe, Fiona, Edwina, his children, his mother and Leah’s entire family attended the Ancient Claiming Ceremony. A ceremony that was performed for all vampire unions. A ceremony that hadn’t been conducted between a mortal and immortal in over five hundred years.
Eschewing the traditional blood red, she wore a sophisticated ivory satin gown, a nod to her culture.
He’d given her diamonds for her ears and wrists and dozens nestled in her upswept hair.
A black diamond already adorned her left ring finger, its matching bands, another nod to her culture, would be placed at its base.
But her exquisite throat was bare.
He took of her blood. She took of his.
When she did this, her nose wrinkled before her lips locked to the wound he tore into his own flesh at his wrist. However, when she suckled, her eyes lifted to his and grew wide with wonder.
Lucien laughed.
He swept his tongue against his wound and drew her close in the circle of his arms.
His voice resonating through the small assemblage, he declared the words of claiming, words he’d said twice before, to Maggie, then, five hundred years later, to Katrina.
Regardless of what happened with both of his earlier unions, the words were not bitter.
They were only sweet.
And this time, he did not speak them as promise.
He spoke them as vow.
“Until the sun falls from the sky.”
Tears filled her eyes and she pressed deep into his body.
Unlike his commanding declaration, when she spoke she spoke only to him.
In a soft voice, Leah repeated, “Until the sun falls from the sky.”
Cheers went up all around them along with happy sobs, but Lucien processed none of it.
The only thing in his universe was the woman in his arms.
Lucien was running, Leah’s hand in his. He could hear her panting even though she had uncommon speed for a mortal, something else she’d picked up from him.
Even so, she was nowhere near as swift as him and he could hear them getting closer.
He wasted precious time, stopped, and flung her over his shoulder.
Then he ran.
Their hunting meant that Stephanie had failed. As had Cosmo, Avery, Rafe, Hamish, Jordan, Duncan, Hermes, Orlando and scores of others. His army. His and Leah’s personal guard.
He would never have guessed their defeat. Their loss, which surely meant their deaths, caused a searing pain to slice through his gut, but his legs didn’t falter.
“Lucien.” Leah’s voice was harsh, his name broken with his strides.
He didn’t reply. His focus was distance, escape.
“Lucien, let me down.”
“Quiet,” he grunted, his own breath coming fast and short, not from the effort, but from his dread.
“Let them get me.”
Silence, he commanded.
Let them have me, darling. You go.
Of course, being Leah, she wouldn’t leave it be.
We’re not discussing this.
He sensed their pursuers losing ground, but he didn’t slow.
Let me go. You need to live to fight so other vampires can be free, she urged, her voice thick with emotion. So my people can stay free.
Not without you, never without you.
They’re counting on you.
I don’t give a fuck. They want it, they can fight for it on their own.
Silence.
Then, So stubborn! she snapped to his brain.
He kept running.
The drug coursing through his system making him weak, he watched Leah walk up the scaffold.
Lydia cried out, the sound the definition of agony.
Lucien’s eyes never left his mate.
Denounce me, Lucien ordered.
Never, Leah shot back, a tremble betraying the strength behind her tone.
He thrilled at her word even as it tore at his heart.
This time, when he spoke, it was a plea, Denounce me, my pet.
I’d rather die with you than live without you.
He nearly smiled.
Drama, he muttered into her mind.
This isn’t funny.
She was absolutely correct.
Using what strength he had, his next words were a command he knew she couldn’t defy.
Denounce me.
Her body jerked, her pale worn face going all the more ashen. But her eyes were defiant.
Never.
He was stunned and horrified and now unbelievably frightened.
He’d not had to control her mind for years and in those years she’d obviously built up an immunity.
They stopped her under the noose and put it around her neck.
She stood, arms tied behind her back, wearing her ivory claiming gown.
Another defiance, not of him, of The Dominion.
Even facing certain death, she was magnificent.
That vile feeling he’d felt so long ago when he thought he’d broken her, a feeling he hadn’t had in years, ripped through him.
Without delay, they touched the torch to the kindling around his feet.
Another scream of agony, this piercing the air and coming from Katrina.
Lucien’s eyes never left Leah.
I love you, she whispered to his mind.
He closed his eyes.
He sensed the heat but nothing could slice through the altogether different, far more powerful pain.
I love you too, sweetling.
He opened his eyes to see her smile, radiant and beautiful.
Then the trapdoor opened and she fell.
With a jerk, Lucien came awake.
The sun was blazing around the curtains but the room was still dark.
He felt a tightness in his gut, his skin dampened with sweat, Leah curled into the curve of his body, her heartbeat and breathing steady.
Asleep.
“Holy Christ,” he whispered.
He remembered every vivid, horrifying second of his dream.
Every excruciating second.
He could actually feel the smooth satin of her claiming gown under his hands, the weight of her body over his shoulder as he ran, the touch of the flame.
“Holy Christ,” he repeated.
Was this what she was dreaming? Was this what sent her fleeing the bed, terrified and sobbing?
It had to be.
“Holy Christ,” he gritted between his teeth.
She stirred.
He moved, turning her still sleeping body into his arms, he put his mouth to her, tasting her, his hands stroking at the same time. Down his mouth went to her breast, he rolled his tongue around a nipple.
“Lucien?” Her sleepy voice sounded, her hands came to his shoulders.
He moved south.
“Lucien,” she breathed, the fingers of one hand sliding into his hair.
He spread her legs, shifted her calves over his shoulders and put his mouth to her. Relentlessly, he feasted on her as she gasped and panted, her fingers clenched in his hair, her hips bucking.
Voracious, always voracious, his Leah, this time, demanding more of his mouth. Her muscles tensed, heels digging into his back, and she cried out his name when she came.
He surged over her, controlling his heart, calling out to hers, making them beat as one while slamming into her lush wetness savagely in one, long, smooth, brutal thrust as she panted out his name again, still in the throes of her climax. He nearly forgot to sweep his tongue along her neck before he extended his razor-sharp fangs and tore through her flesh.
Then he was thrusting, her body jerking, her blood pumping into his mouth with each deep violent plunge, every beat of their hearts throbbing in tandem.
He’d been correct.
Fucking rapture.
She wrapped herself tightly around him and came again, harder, nails digging into his skin, breath catching and halting, heart tripping. He felt the pressure building in his own body, sharp and fierce, his cock aching to release.
He closed her wound with his tongue and used her hair to force her to face him.
Her eyes half-closed, somnolent, sated, he shook her head with his fist in her hair, trying to be gentle and fearing he’d failed when her eyes snapped open.
“You’re mine,” he growled, surging into her.
“Yes,” she panted without delay.
“Say it,” he demanded.
She acquiesced, again immediately, “I’m yours.”
“Always.”
As he thrust into her, faster, harder, the pressure building, her body jolting under him, he felt her limbs tense and watched as her face paled.
She didn’t speak.
“Say it, Leah. Always,” he ground out.
“Lucien . . .”
He thrust into her, deeper, harder, and she whimpered in pleasure.
“Say it!” he commanded.
Her eyes locked with his.
“I’m yours, Lucien,” she whispered. “Always.”
It was at that moment he came, long and hard, an orgasm unparalleled in eight hundred years. It was even better than the one she’d given him last night during their first joining, which he would have thought impossible.
After, he allowed his weight to collapse on her for long moments before he heard her breath turn heavy from taking his burden.
Then he rolled them, careful to keep them joined, so he was on his back, she was straddling him, her torso to his, her face in his neck, breath still coming fast and brushing lightly against his skin.
Moments passed, Lucien matching his heart to the pulsing rhythm of Leah’s as he tried to shut down his mind. To shut out the images burned there from his dream. The traces of satin on his hands. The dread tearing through his soul as he sought to escape the hunt. None of this reconciled with Leah in his arms, her sweet wetness still tight around his cock, her breasts crushed against his chest, her heartbeat thumping rapidly.
Belatedly, he smelled her fear.
“Leah?”
Her heart skipped and his skipped with it.
Then she whispered, “What was that?”
“Leah—”
She started to lift up but he held her captive with his arms.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, “we’ll disconnect.”
She stilled.
Then she asked, “Lucien, what just happened?”
He had no earthly idea. He’d never behaved with such a driven, even desperate need before.
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 hips 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 hips 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.
“Why couldn’t I be some other immortal’s concubine?” she muttered. “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 fuck.
“Wh-what?”
“What do you know of other immortals? Werewolves? Wraiths?”
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Lucien shook her and he didn’t do it gently. “Tell me, damn it!”
“I don’t know!” she gasped. “I mean, Avery . . .”
She stopped speaking, her eyes dropping to his jaw as it went rigid.
Between clenched teeth, he gritted, “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Lucien?” Her tone was uncertain and very frightened.
His gaze bore into hers. “Don’t tell anyone you know of the existence of other immortals, Leah. Not a single soul. Not your family, not Stephanie, not Edwina—”
“Edwina knows,” she admitted softly. “She was there when Avery—”
He closed his eyes and ground out, “Fucking hell.”
“He didn’t say anything, Lucien. Not anything,” Leah defended hurriedly and he opened his eyes to glare at her. “He just said he was immortal but he wasn’t a vampire. He didn’t tell me what he was. He didn’t tell me what other immortals there were. He said if he said anything it would mean his death. Earlier, I was just guessing.”
“I’ll wager, my pet, he didn’t tell you that if anyone found out you knew then you’d face certain death.”
She pulled in a sharp breath.
“Yes,” Lucien clipped. “So no one is in on this secret. No one. I’ll have a word with Edwina and I’ll have several with Avery.”
Her hand came to his neck, fingers curling there, and he could feel the slight tremor.
“Please don’t be angry with him. He was trying to be kind,” Leah whispered.
“Putting your life in danger is far from kind,” Lucien returned, his anger not abating, the nightmare too fresh as was this new danger.
Pain slashed through her face before she went on, her voice gentle, “Maybe he’s tired of hiding, Lucien. Maybe he felt he was among friends. Maybe he knew I’d accept him. Maybe he trusted me. That isn’t something to be angry about. That’s an honor he bestowed on me.”
“Letting me break you one day doesn’t make you friend and protector of all immortals the next, Leah.” His tone was sharp and derisive because her words had no effect.
He was still angry.
And troubled.
The Council was considering his request. They owed him and he had friends on The Council, friends who he had no doubt would become allies if things didn’t go his way. Therefore friends who would do all in their considerable power to make things go his way. No one wanted war.
Those who were not friends, those who wished to defy change because they feared it or because they hated him were using Rafe’s behavior as grounds to deny Lucien’s request.
Rafe had not yet taken Lana as a lover but he’d told Lucien he wanted to and he was now spending the night with her, this being the reason why The Council finally called him in. Rafe had not joined with her because he feared for her safety.
Lucien approved of Rafe’s intentions and when speaking to him encouraged them.
As he would encourage any vampire who wished to bloody well behave like a fucking vampire.
If this was known, this would not sway The Council in his favor, even his friends might demur. Allowing Lucien a boon was one thing, allowing rampant and widespread change to centuries of tradition was another.
However, if it was known that Leah held the knowledge that other cultures existed, he’d not get his request granted for she’d be executed.
No, she’d be hunted then she’d be executed.
They had enough to worry about, most of it she didn’t even know, they didn’t fucking need this.
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—”
Lucien was appalled. “I’ve done that to you?”
She studied him, her look wary, and she nodded before saying, “Just now and when, um . . . that time Katrina came over.”
“Christ,” he muttered, stunned and disgusted with himself. He hadn’t even felt it.
“I’d said some awful things . . .” she defended him and his arms gave her a gentle shake to stop her exoneration.
“That won’t happen again,” he declared.
Leah watched him, her eyes wide, lips parted, and this time he didn’t revel in a look that made her adorable.
“What is it?” she whispered.
His reply was swift and terse. “Preparing for battle.”
“Wow,” she breathed.
“Against an immortal, Leah,” he went on, tone still curt. “My strength is twenty times yours. When I’m in a fight or flight situation, my adrenaline releases, just as yours does, but it makes me twice as strong as I was before, twice as fast. If I were to—”
“You didn’t,” she cut him off.
“And I wouldn’t,” he stated. “I’ll repeat, my pet, when you’re with me, you never have anything to fear.”
At that, she replied, “That part I know.”
After she spoke, he watched as her face stilled before horror filled it and she grew pale.
Her heart started racing. In his anger, he’d ceased attuning his to hers and his remained steady.
But she’d given something away and it wasn’t that she trusted he’d never harm her.
“Leah?”
She looked toward the door and quickly changed the subject, “Maybe we should call my family to come and have breakfast.”
“Leah—”
“I’ll make breakfast today. Crêpes Suzette.”
The idea of Leah attempting Crêpes Suzette, which she’d fail to do (not to mention it was dessert), was infinitely amusing, especially considering flambéing was key to the dish’s success.
He mentally located the fire extinguisher, just in case.
But at the thought of witnessing this endeavor and her reaction at her inevitable failure, Lucien was tempted to let her off the hook.
However, he didn’t.
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
Her gaze flitted to his eyebrow.
His arms tightened and his tone was a warning. “Leah.”
She sighed and her eyes caught his.
“What did you mean?” Lucien asked.
“What did I mean what?” Leah asked back.
His eyes narrowed. She wrinkled her nose.
“Tell me, Leah,” he ordered.
“Oh, all right,” she snapped and frowned at him before admitting something astonishing and tremendously gratifying, but doing so with extreme ill-humor. “You make me feel safe.”
Again, Lucien was stunned. This time in a much better way.
“I make you feel safe,” he repeated.
“Yes. You,” she poked him in the chest, “make me,” she pointed to herself then her hand fluttered in the air, “feel safe.” She dropped her hand and stared at him. “You’re big and fast and you can throw a blinkety-blank car, for heaven’s sake. You make me feel tiny and sheltered and . . . well, safe!”
That warmth in his gut started spreading.
“Leah—” he began, his hand inching up her back, sifting into her hair.
But she wasn’t quite through.
Glowering at him, she admitted irritably, “My father left me, which was enough to twist me in a way that I’d never feel safe. We were girls on our own. Mom’s strong but, you know, sometimes . . .” She trailed off, losing track of her theme. She found it and kept going, “Then every guy I’ve ever been with has hit the top bell on the jerk-o-meter. You can be a jerk but, get this!” she fairly shouted. “One of my boyfriends sat in the car while I changed the tire. Another one didn’t do a freaking thing when some guy was pawing me at a bar. After I got away, I asked him why he sat there and watched and did not . . . one . . . thing and he said he didn’t want to get ‘into it’ with some ‘moron’ and it was obvious I could ‘sort myself out.’” She lifted her hands and used two fingers to put quotation emphasis on her words before dropping them again and finishing, “Can you believe?”
He couldn’t. In fact the very idea infuriated him.
He didn’t get a chance to share this, she kept talking.
“You wouldn’t make me change the tire and you wouldn’t let some guy paw me and you haven’t told me I have a fat ass and perhaps I should lay off the fried chicken. You’re big and heavy and strong and cart me around like I weigh as much as a kitten. And you’re tall and I have to look up at you, even when I’m wearing heels,” she uttered this last like it was a total impossibility for her to look up at anyone and to look up at him was akin to a miracle. However, she wasn’t quite finished. “And you could probably change a tire just by glaring at it.”
Lucien bit back laughter as he rolled her to her back and decided they weren’t having Crêpes Suzette. And definitely her family wasn’t coming over.
His mouth went to her throat and he muttered, “I’m sorry to say I can’t change a tire by glaring at it.”
Her voice was no longer loud but breathy when she replied, “You know what I mean.”
His mouth moved up and over her jaw to meet hers.
Looking into her eyes, he murmured his understatement, “I’m glad you feel safe with me, sweetling.”
She tried to make light of it by announcing, “Anyone would feel safe with you. I’ll repeat, you can throw a car.”
“Maybe,” he allowed, “but I’m thrilled that you do.”
Before she could speak again, he rewarded her admission with a kiss.
Without hesitating, her arms stole around him and she kissed him back, her mouth sweet, her tongue sweeter.
His hand moved to her breast and cupped it, his thumb stroking its peak, feeling it harden instantly.
His cock responded in kind.
She gasped into his mouth.
He lifted his head to watch her face as his thumb stroked back, and as he did, he liked what he saw.
Her cheeks warmed and she bit her lip.
Then she said, “I’m hungry.”
“I’ll feed you,” he assured her, executing another nipple swipe before he finished, “Later.”
Her eyelids fluttered lower, desire evident in her face. He felt a further tightening in his groin, but even so, she whispered, “My family—”
He added a finger to his thumb and rolled. He was rewarded at once. Her breath caught, her heart started hammering, and he smelled the rush of heat between her restless legs.
Magnificent.
“Later,” he repeated, his head descending and his mouth was on hers when he heard it.
Her body froze beneath his as his head jerked up. His two fingers stopped rolling but all of them curled possessively around the swell of her breast.
He listened and he couldn’t believe what he heard.
“What is it?” Leah asked, a tremor of fear in her voice.
His eyes caught hers.
The doorbell rang.
Her body went solid and her fear permeated the air.
Lucien’s temper spiked.
“What is it?” she asked again, the fear stronger.
“It’s my fucking family,” he growled.
He watched as her eyes grew wide, her lips parted, and yet again he found no pleasure in her endearing expression.
This was mainly because, instead of being able to do something about it, something they’d both like very much, he had to go answer the fucking door.