Until the Sun Falls from the Sky (The Three #1)(32)
Author: Kristen Ashley

She had no trouble with that.

She was good.

Therefore his tests would need to be more challenging.

“It will do,” he let her go, “for now.”

He walked away but she called to his back, “What do you want me to do while you’re changing?”

“Whatever you want,” he replied and imagined her first thought was to search the house for gasoline and matches.

Upstairs he changed his shirt and was walking back through the bathroom to join Leah when his eyes caught on something. He halted.

Looking in the trash bin, he saw taupe wisps of shredded silk and lace, the lilac-flowered imprints barely nuances in the tatters. He reached down and allowed the obliterated material of the lingerie Leah wore the night before to sift through his fingers.

He straightened, his mouth tightening at the same time he felt a similar sensation in his gut.

Then something profound cut through him. He didn’t understand it and he didn’t f**king like it. It was a feeling he’d never felt in his very long life and a feeling he never wanted to have again.

Last night, wearing that lingerie, she had run to him. Flung herself in his arms Told him she liked it when he bit back a smile. Rejoiced in the gifts he’d given her particularly the camisole and panties. Smiled at him for the first time. And passionately enjoyed her bloodletting.

Now, that lingerie, what would have been a physical reminder to both of them throughout their Arrangement of the splendor of last night, lay shredded and discarded in a trash bin.

And he, and his unwise decision to carry out her punishment even after she’d given glaring indication of what Edwina called “settling in”, was solely responsible for the bleak emotion evidenced in that f**king bin.

“Fuck,” he swore, his stare riveted to the scraps, his mind consumed with what they meant.

Then he cleared his thoughts and walked downstairs to Leah.

Chapter Eight

The Feast

I sat in the Porsche as Lucien drove us to wherever the hell we were going. Ever his new, obedient concubine, I hadn’t asked and he hadn’t shared.

It was taking a lot out of me not to turn and claw out his eyes or throw open my door and toss myself bodily from the car.

The reason for this was not only because my Why I Hate Lucien Vault was so full.

That morning, he came fully dressed from the bathroom. This was luckily after I had plenty of time to dry the tears from my face and pretend to be sleeping. Still, even though he at least should have pretended to believe I was sleeping after he was such a big, fat, vampire jerk, he’d kissed the nape of my exposed neck softly before he left (the bastard).

I then spent the whole day mentally moving everything to a far, far, far bigger vault.

It was also because, ten minutes into our drive, Lucien’s hand had come to my leg. He’d slowly slid the gorgeous material aside exposing my thigh then, when he wasn’t shifting, he stroked the skin on the inside gently, leisurely, enticingly and, worst of all, constantly.

It was driving me mad.

It was driving me mad because it felt so f**king good.

What was worse was that wherever the hell we were going was a long, long way from the house Lucien provided for me.

Which meant my torture seemed to last an eternity.

During that eternity, I decided I’d never forgive him.

I’d never, ever forgive him for forcing my body to betray me again and again thus making me hate myself more than I hated him.

We were deep in the bowels of the city (and “bowels” was an aptly descriptive word), when he turned into an alley.

I didn’t normally hang in alleys but if I were to choose one this one would be near the bottom of the list.

Lucien slowed to a stop and all of a sudden from out of nowhere a man jumped toward the car.

I couldn’t control my surprised gasp.

Lucien’s hand flexed on the inside of my thigh and he murmured, “It’s all right, pet.”

I forced myself to turn and nod at him as if I trusted him with my very life even though I did not. His latest maneuver of driving me down a dank alley was proof positive why I shouldn’t.

My door was flung open and a hand was shoved through.

I shrank from it as I heard a stranger say, “Milady.”

“Take his hand, Leah,” Lucien ordered and I didn’t want to, I really didn’t want to, but I did.

The stranger helped me out of the car. He was shorter than me, wiry to the point of being gaunt and I guessed he was younger than me by at least a decade.

He was paying me no attention even as he cautiously steered me clear of the door before he slammed it to.

His eyes were hungry on Lucien who had alighted out the other side. Very hungry. Creepy hungry.

How incredibly weird.

“Wats,” Lucien said before he casually tossed the keys to his absurdly expensive sports car to a man who resembled a tramp who had just had a clean at the shelter where he’d been given ill-fitting clothes and a not so good haircut.

“Master,” the man panted upon catching the keys, his eyes glued to Lucien and I felt a sick feeling crawl through the pit of my stomach.

Faster than a flash Lucien was at my side, his fingers firm at my elbow, drawing me away from the stranger. The man’s eyes flickered to me before moving devotedly back to Lucien.

“Like they’re all saying, she’s beautiful, Master,” he breathed, leaning into Lucien but holding himself back, quite obviously wary, excited, petrified all at the same time.

I looked up to Lucien to see he was regarding the man with barely concealed revulsion.

“Take care of the car, Wats,” Lucien ordered. Wats nodded, still panting while he backed away, slightly bowing like a mad scientist’s deformed lackey in a bad horror movie.

Lucien moved me toward a door and I followed.

I wanted to ask about Wats but I didn’t. I wanted to run screaming into the night but I didn’t.

Crazily, I also wanted to throw myself in Lucien’s arms and beg him to f**k me against the wall in the alley.

I most certainly didn’t do that.

The door opened before we arrived, a similar character to Wats but rounder, older, with a thick beard and a mess of long, tangled hair was holding the door wide.

“Master,” he whispered reverently, his eyes dropping as if he was too lowly a creature to gaze upon the magnificence of Lucien and my stomach twisted nauseatingly.

“Breed,” Lucien murmured his greeting not even glancing the man’s way, leading me by him and into a dark hall that almost immediately led to stairs going down.

The door closed behind us and I barely controlled my desire to jump or cry out. We started descending the stairs side-by-side and Lucien still hadn’t taken his hand from my arm.