"Shall we start with holding hands?" Lucian asked, rubbing his palms together over the heat. He then reached for her hands, enclosing them in his, sharing the warmth that still clung to his skin.
"It seems like whips and bullets make you more generous than your usual self, Lord Arclight," she said, continuing her beauty sleep, her eyes firmly shut, "I should keep that in mind, for next time."
Goosebumps prickled Lucian's skin at her words, and he tried to shake the feeling off, his hands squeezing her harder, "Well, look at yourself. So determined, so willing to suffer. How could I not feel generous?"
His eyes lingered on her neck, "Would a quick peck on those bruises suffice? To go so far for me as to let yourself get hurt, my heart is fluttering with gratitude. I can only hope to pay you back with a similar sacrifice on my part."
She didn't react. His words were like air, blowing past her without leaving a single mark. The more he tried to break through, the more impenetrable her armor seemed to grow.
His lips were hovering above her neck, tickling her with his breath. No matter how much he played hard to get, he always thrived under her gaze, and withered under her neglect. They used to be like twin flames, dancing to the same rhythm, moving and swaying together, as one.
He was hard to handle, and hard to care for, but she made it look easy. His needy nature was met with her indulgence. His controlling nature was met with her willingness. And the moment he realized that his own desires were mirroring hers, his heart couldn't stop pounding, couldn't stop racing...couldn't stop falling.
He didn't know what happened. One minute they were together, and the next, he was all alone, with no explanation, no reason, and no closure.
Leaning closer, his tongue dragged harshly across the bruise on her neck. He licked his way up to her jaw, stopping just below her ear, "How far did you let His Highness go, Lady Rochefort?"
"As far as it was needed," she replied.
"You should have made him fall for you instead, so you could have had his head for a trophy and his heart for a plaything," he hissed quietly, his tongue tracing her skin, "Why hold back? Did your pretty brain get poisoned by my flowery words? Am I such a bad influence, hm?" He felt her body twitch as her fingers curled inside his grip.
Celine's eyes were squeezed shut, waiting for the bite, for the sharp pain to pierce her flesh. Lucian's labored, pain-filled breaths made her stomach churn instead of burn.
On the other hand, Celine's lifeless responses made his sickness surge.
The heat wasn't rising, the desire wasn't pooling. The closeness didn't bring back the passion, or the longing, or the lust. It only brought resentment. Pure, almost childlike, resentment.
"If you die, I'll kill you," she whispered.
"You'd kill me twice?" he asked, his breath coming a little steadier, as if the simple weight of her attention was enough to lift the pressure in the air.
"Thrice, if you keep licking me like a wronged dog."
"It's called foreplay, My Lady," he said with a smile, licking her bruises deliberately slower, "It's supposed to make you feel good, not scared."
"You know what would make me feel good? You, not bleeding all over my dress again."
Was this truly the same person who destroyed her reputation and risked her life just to force Lucian to rush back to her side? She was definitely not keen on him dying in her arms, that much was true. But the way she steeled her heart and sharpened her tongue, made him feel like she was talking about the inconvenience of his dead weight, and not the pain of losing him.
"Are you worried about me?" Lucian asked, wondering if there was more to this side of hers. The way she was ignoring him now, it felt like a desperate attempt at self-preservation. The same way he tried to preserve himself when it was too much, too fast.
"I'm not keen on having a corpse lying next to me," she responded after a while.
"And here I was thinking we were going to share a coffin."
"I would rather share a bed, not a coffin." She turned her back and moved to the side, making some space for him, "Lie down and close your eyes. It's too early for us to die. Wasting energy on useless arguments is unproductive. Save it for later, when our lives are not at stake."
It sounded more like an order than an invitation, and Lucian held a different opinion.
He thought it was a waste to sleep away the night in silence, to not say anything, to not make her react.
This was the perfect opportunity to get under her skin, to get inside her head, and to leave a mark, even a small one.
"As long as we agree on the coffin thing," he couldn't help but taunt, sitting beside her, "We can haunt our children and grandchildren together. How does that sound?"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
Lucian coughed, clearing his throat awkwardly in a failed attempt of lifting the mood, "Fine, I'll let you think about it."
He slowly lowered his head next to hers, the soft pillow welcoming his aching body.