Chapter 16

I munched on a Krispy Kreme glazed doughnut—the only one worth eating if you’re going to eat a doughnut, in my not so humble opinion—and studied a glowering Luc. 

“You’re not telling me something.”

I gave him wide, innocent eyes which didn’t fool him for a moment, I’m sure. I’d decided to tell him everything Grace had shared but nothing more. No Gray Man, no Billy. Those were mine. “You callin’ me a liar?”

He pushed back his chair and walked into his kitchen, grabbed the pot of coffee, and brought it back to the table. He poured himself a mug full. Luc drank his black. Me, I’m a cream-and-sugar kind of girl, a fact he always rags on me about.

“If the shoe fits.” He eyed me evilly over the rim of his cup, then took a long, slow draft of the bitter brew.

I’d met him at his trailer, just like I’d promised last night. Yeah, it was five in the morning, the sun hadn’t come up, and maybe that was why he was cranky, but hey. Not my fault he’d gone back to whoring after he’d left my place. I hadn’t slept much last night. The talk between Grace and me, Gray Man and me, Billy and me—heck, pick your poison—left my thoughts jumbled and more confused than ever. 

I’d gone for a walk around my trailer, not far, within earshot of the carnival, trying to work out the puzzle, but it hadn’t helped. Finally, I’d given it up as a lost cause, ported myself to Winston-Salem—home of the original Krispy Kreme ’cause if you’re gonna buy them you ought to get the best—picked up three boxes, and then knocked, very loudly, on my boss’s door.

He’d scowled, had sworn he was gonna rip me a new one, but eventually my feminine wiles won him over. That and the smell of deep-fried fat. He’d devoured three doughnuts before I’d even set them down. He’s such a pig, but I guess you know that already. Wine incident ring any bells? 

Luc’s house is sterile, and by that I mean the man is seriously into the whole concept of feng shui. Less is more. Objects placed in certain areas for optimum health benefits and all that other mumbo jumbo crap. That stuff is so freakin’ ridiculous. Moving your couch next to the window instead of the door isn’t gonna help you not catch a cold come fall. But whatever. Not my house. 

The only thing to take away from the feng-shuiness of it, in my opinion, was his love of technology. He and Kemen had taken to it like fish to water. Everywhere I looked, Luc had his gadgets, cell phone, computers, television, stereo—now that I could understand; personally I lived and breathed music. But the rest held little appeal to me. 

I leaned back, sucked the sugar off each of my fingers while still maintaining eye contact with him, and sighed. 

I wasn’t lying, not exactly. I was keeping things. Though I was only running at half speed at the moment, one thing had become glaringly obvious this morning. Regardless of my emphatic denial that Luc was not in any way, shape, or form involved, I really couldn’t know that for certain.

And I until I found out otherwise, everyone was suspect. 

“Listen, trust me or not, what I told you is the truth.”

He licked his fangs. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s true. It’s what you’re not telling me that makes me wonder.”

I shrugged.

He rolled his eyes, shoved his fingers through his long blond hair, then growled. “So she suspects someone among us is playing both sides. I can’t believe this, Dora.”

“I know.” I took a sip of my coffee. It was creamy and sweet and delicious. The caffeine didn’t affect us the way it did humans, but Luc and I have developed a taste for the stuff anyway. “I thought that too the first time she told me.”

“It doesn’t make any kind of sense,” he snarled, “so we have to infiltrate this club and what… stand by and play patty-cake with the mosquitoes?”

“I have to gather as much intel as I can. The first trip is recon only.”

“I don’t like this.” He shook his head. “Something feels wrong.”

I muttered a low agreement.

“I’ll send Bubba with you.”

“No,” I said a little too forcefully, looking up from my mug, “Grace said no one should know. Hell, I had to fight to get her to agree I could talk with you.”

Open mouth, insert foot. I wanted to groan.

“What?” he all but growled, standing so fast he knocked the chair down. “She suspects me?” He honestly and sincerely looked stupefied, which I must say helped calm some of my own fears. “Please tell me that’s not why you’re keeping secrets from me, Pandora.”

I bit the inside of my cheek.

He narrowed his eyes, slammed his coffee mug down on the table—sloshing half the contents onto the wood—then pinned his arms on my chair and shoved his face into mine. 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that look of guilt flash across your face.” His voice blended with another, and his eyes started to swirl an angry purple. 

Luc was wearing nothing but a pair of silk boxer briefs this morning. His hair was tousled, eyes a little puffy, breathtakingly gorgeous. Last night had left me very dissatisfied. I bit my bottom lip and slipped my sandal off, then dragged my foot along his muscled calf. His breath caught, and I purred at the sensation of his coarse hairs tickling my toes. 

“Pandora, don’t think screwing me is gonna get you out of answering my question.” There was anger in his words, but the husky baritone of his voice said he was not as unaffected as he might pretend to be. 

I ran my hands across the washboard expanse of his abdomen, and when I got to his nipples I took them both between my fingers and rolled them. 

He hissed and laid his forehead against mine, taking short, choppy breaths. I grabbed his face and forced him to look at me. 

“There are times,” I said, “when I don’t know who I can trust.” He stiffened. “But I do know this…” I caressed his cheek, then trailed my thumb against the seam of his lips; he opened his mouth and took my finger into his warm heat. He sucked, bit, and nibbled, pulling things down low in my body and making me squirm with need. “I can always count on you to teach me the hard lessons and save me from myself.”

Knowledge filled his face. Luc fell to his knees, then pulled me into a fierce hug. My cheek rested against his chest, and I could feel the rapid beat of his heart like a steady drum against my ear. 

“Pandora, you can trust me. You can. I would never hurt you.”

But he had. And he knew it. 

~*~

Two hours later—now that’s more like it—I rolled over and watched him settle in comfortably beside me on his large four-poster bed, balancing a plate of doughnuts on his lap. I’m not sure how to define what Luc and I just did. We didn’t screw. That would imply something hard and swift and all about meeting the needs of our demons. But could things like us make love? It had felt that way. Slow and lingering, methodical, touching and kissing. No words of worship or awe, but a deliberate feast of touch and taste.

“You want?” He offered me the last doughnut on the plate.

I wrinkled my nose. “No, thanks. Two’s enough for me.” I patted my belly. We couldn’t get fat, but I was still strict about what I ate. 

“Suit yourself.” He shoveled the final doughnut in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, then sat back with a satisfied sigh. His belly bulged slightly.

I smiled. “You look very pleased with yourself.”

He gave a lazy nod. “I am. But…”

Oh great.

“I still want to know what you’re keeping from me.”

I knew it. I’d hoped sex would take his mind off this. What could have possibly possessed me to believe that? Stupidity. “Luc, please—”

“Don’t, Pandora.” He flicked his wrist. “Just don’t. I’m not going to force you to tell me. You do whatever you think is best. I trust your judgment.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “You really know how to make a person feel like crap—”

“Why?” He rolled on his side, cradled his head on his hand. There was anger and bitterness in his gaze, maybe even a touch of disappointment. “Because after all this time you still can’t trust me enough to let me know what went down.”

That wasn’t fair. I had my reasons. He might not understand them, but I couldn’t forget the feeling of those phantom fingers squeezing the life out of me. Or the echoing words of trust no one constantly beating at my skull. 

“I told you everything that happened at Grace’s.”

He eyed me coolly. “No, you didn’t.”

I’d set the ring on my nightstand, not daring to wear it for fear that someone would see it and maybe recognize what it was. He was right. I hadn’t. 

“And the fact that you phrased it that way lets me know something happened outside Grace’s. Didn’t it?”

Ugh, we’d just had two of the greatest hours of sex, and here he was grilling me like I was some common criminal. And men say we’re difficult.

“It was that priest. Wasn’t it, Pandora?” A vein throbbed at his temple. I could feel his power beginning to ride the air between us. It made my skin tingle. 

I patted down the fine hairs at the back of my neck and glared at him. 

“Yeah, whatever. Protect him; you’ve gotten real good at that these past few days.” He rolled off the bed, snatched up his boxers, and stomped out the door.

Shocked, my mouth parted into a tiny O. I watched him go, wondering yet again what was wrong with Luc. He’d never been like this before. If he’d been anyone else, I’d call it jealousy. But Luc wasn’t anyone else, and I knew it to be impossible.

I touched the scar above my chest. The only mar on my otherwise-perfect skin. The only flaw that would never heal. 

Once long ago, I thought I’d been in love with him. I’d told Luc, confessed my feelings; he’d looked at me as if I were an abomination. A detestable and foul creature. He’d flung me away. I shivered thinking about that night. About the hatred and rage I’d seen grow in his eyes to a malevolent level. He’d twisted into a creature straight out of a kid’s worst nightmare. 

Sometimes—not often, but sometimes—something can happen that triggers our demon to take us over completely. No longer half human, we become the creature. 

I pressed my palm against my chest, feeling the rigid thickness of the scar and trembled remembering what he’d become. A black and shiny thing of scales and claws, long, sharp fangs glistening silver with spittle. 

To this day I still can’t understand why he’d done what he’d done. Or what I’d said that had made him turn. Luc had never harmed me before, or since. 

My memories of that long-ago night in the horse stable are vague and half-formed. The only thing I can recall with any type of clarity is him hovering over me, legs straddling my chest as he’d carved a jagged heart in my flesh with a spelled knife. 

I’d nearly bled out, passing in and out of consciousness. One second there’d be darkness, nothing; the next I’d hear garbled nonsense and feel blood-soaked hands running over my cheeks. A body rocking me back and forth and hot wetness splashing my face.

Unlike most of our current family, Luc and I hadn’t grown up alone. We’d been born in the same small village ten miles south of what would someday become ancient Babylon. When those around us died, we’d lived on and been together for most of it. We’ve seen the world around us change while we remained the same. We’d learned, lived, and loved together. Or so I’d thought, until the night I’d spilled the secrets of my heart.

I’d survived, but I’ve never been the same. Something died in me that night, a part of my soul. Because I knew my hero didn’t exist. I was a freak amongst freaks and would forever be an outsider in a world that hated me.

It’d taken me over a thousand years to even come within earshot of Luc again. But no matter where I ran, he’d found me. He always found me. Those had been the worst years of my life. The bitter loneliness of no one to confide in, to trust in. In the end I’d returned, not because I was desperate for his love—no… he’d killed that—but because there was safety in numbers. Gradually I’d learned to trust Luc, to an extent, but never completely. Never again. 

I’d been so lost to the pain I’m still not sure why I didn’t go through with the suicide attempt. But I’d grown strong, found a place deep inside, locked all the pain away, and went about my life as if it never happened. 

It may not be the best way to deal with things, sweep them under the proverbial rug, but you try seeing half the stuff I’ve seen and tell me you’d do it any differently. Sometimes pretending the monster’s not there is the only way to hang on to your sanity. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. Even the illusion of it.

I got up and got dressed.

My knight in shining armor died a long time ago. I accept death and destruction. Do I like it? No. Will I ever grow fond of it? I hope not. But each day I grow more and more jaded.

I zipped up my corset top, walked out into the living room ignoring a brooding Luc, and grabbed the last two boxes of doughnuts. I slipped on my sandals and then walked out the door. 

Still, for all that, Luc had taught me a valuable lesson that night. 

Love doesn’t exist. 

And I’m not talking about agape love, the love of a parent for a child. I’ve witnessed that. Seen a mother—human or animal—lay down her life in exchange for her offspring’s. But erotic love, the love a man has for his mate. How can imperfect beings grasp such a profound concept as that? Every day I witness hearts getting broken, lies being told by both men and women. 

Is what we call love simply little more than lust disguised? I’ve lived with Lust my entire life. I know what it feels like to need someone to the point that you cannot breathe for want of him. But that is not love. That is obsession masked as something noble. 

Love is the cruelest myth of all.