Savage Love

by Riley Storm

  “Uhh, I—”

  “Exactly!” she snapped, unloading on him. “I. I—I—I. All you think about is yourself Lucien! You put yourself first. You don’t think about anyone else.”

  “That’s not true,” he said with quiet fierceness.

  “So then what, you think about everyone but not me?” she asked, biting her lip. “What did I ever do to you to deserve that sort of treatment? I thought you cared about me.”

  “It’s not true at all,” Lucien repeated. “I’m sorry for leaving. I really, really am. It was not my choice.”

  “Why did you do it then?”

  “It’s…complicated,” he said, clearly unhappy about the answer but not changing it. “I promise, I will tell you when I can. You have my word at that. Just not right now.”

  “Couldn’t you at least have texted me?” she asked quietly, the pain she was feeling leaking through into the words, and unfortunately, into the corner of one of her eyes as she felt something warm and wet drip down her face. Hurriedly, she swiped at it, blinking rapidly to forestall any more from falling.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  She could hear the agony in his face, and it mirrored her own. What the hell was going on with him that he couldn’t have sent her a simple text message, just to let her know that he was alive, even?

  “There’s more than just your anger at me here,” Lucien said suddenly, stepping closer. “Isn’t there? What is it, Alison? What’s really eating away at you?”

  She shook her head, suddenly vulnerable and afraid. This wasn’t how she’d seen it going. This wasn’t the way she’d expected the conversation to turn. This was about Lucien, about how he had screwed up. Not about her demons.

  He’s doing exactly what you told him to do. Thinking of someone other than himself.

  The mild irony of the situation didn’t help.

  “I can hear it in your words,” he said, coming closer. “Not anger at me. But hurt. Pain. Something deep.”

  Head shaking back and forth still, Alison didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked, finally close enough now to rest his hands on her shoulders. “You have every right to be mad at me. I don’t deserve forgiveness. But the hurt is from something else, isn’t it?”

  “Now is not the time to suddenly be Mr. Sensitive,” she told him, trying not to tremble at his touch. Her body betrayed her, letting her know how much she missed being touched. How badly she missed his touch.

  “I wish I could tell you why I left,” he said, returning to the original subject, much to her relief. “There are reasons. Beyond my control. If I could explain them right now, I would.”

  She expelled air. “Let me guess. Is this the cliché “I’m not telling you because it’s for my own good? For my safety?”

  Lucien shook his head. Then stopped. “Partly, I guess.”

  “Partly?” she asked, surprised. Alison was sure she’d figured it out.

  “The other part, is to keep me safe,” he said. There was emotion in his words, but it wasn’t one she could place. It was like fear, but…deeper?

  Alison looked up at him, deciding to search his eyes for the truth. What she saw, however, was something else entirely.

  “Your cuts,” she said, reaching up to touch his face without thinking, stroking the soft, fresh pink skin that adorned it in places. “They’re healed.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  Drifting down to his neck, it was only when she started to peel back the collar of his shirt—not the shrunken one she’d given him, she noted—that Alison realized what she was doing and tried to pull her hand back.

  Lucien’s own paw closed down overtop first, however, and kept it there, fingers gripping around to hold it.

  Even there, she could see that his fingers were healing as well.

  Alison was confused, and feeling very much like she was operating without all the knowledge she needed. “Lucien, what’s going on?”

  10

  It was proving far more painful to not be able to tell her than Lucien ever expected.

  He hurt, on the inside. Hurt badly, perhaps worse than he’d ever hurt before. It wasn’t a physical pain, wasn’t the agony he’d experienced the night before. No this was different. This was deeper. That had been inflicted upon him.

  This, however, this he’d inflicted on someone else. Worse still, he’d done it to someone he cared for more than he was willing to admit.

  “I am sorry,” he said softly, hand still resting on hers, feeling the smoothness of her skin, the rapid thud of her pulse. She was nervous, just as he was. “No matter what else, I want you to know that, Alison.”

  She continued to look in his eyes, watching them. Judging. Lucien was afraid of what she would see, of the shame he felt at this entire situation, of the danger he’d put her in.

  How do I convince her that all of what happened before had been designed to try and prevent exactly this from happening? That I’ve now failed twice in that regard?

  There was so much he wanted to tell her. So much he wanted to do. But just as he couldn’t lower his mouth to hers right then, neither could he explain to her the truth behind his mysterious disappearance.

  She wouldn’t understand.

  Wouldn’t understand that his King had ordered him back to Moonshadow Manor, and had sent along two loyal guards to ensure it happened immediately. In the middle of the night. Lucien hadn’t been allowed to be alone while he packed. They had been that paranoid he would try to sabotage something.

  He still wasn’t sure how the King and his sycophants had discovered that Lucien didn’t follow their cause, but it had happened and they’d acted. Not that Alison would understand that they’d placed him under house arrest, confining him to his quarters, shutting off his internet, preventing him from going anywhere.

  All because he didn’t believe in their terrifying way of thinking, that only wolf shifter DNA was pure, and the rest, their cousins, should be wiped from the face of the earth. It boggled his mind to see such short-sightedness. Couldn’t the King see that if humans learned of their existence, they would have to fight for their very lives against them? There would be no “wolf shifter” rule of planet Earth, much as the King thought it was possible.

  He’s beyond delusional at this point.

  There was simply too much to explain to her, and she was not in the right frame of mind to accept it just now. So Lucien had to remain secretive, until he was sure that she wouldn’t betray them.

  Nor could he explain that he’d purposefully never contacted her once he returned. That the last thing he wanted was for anyone to connect the two of them. To the few people who had known about her, he’d pawned it off as pleasures of the flesh, nothing more. A human toy to keep him occupied. By telling them she meant nothing, he hoped to prevent them from finding out she meant everything.

  But if he told her any of that, she wouldn’t believe him. So instead, he just stood there, basking in her scent, sandalwood and just a dab of something else. Delicate. Warm. For six long, lonely months he’d gone without anything but memories of her, and now he drank it all in, wondering if he dared step closer to wrap her in a hug.

  He stopped himself. Their relationship had been built on secrecy, and the flimsiest of professional boundaries that Lucien had always been loath to cross in public, though he’d hated adhering to such rules. It made Alison happy, however, because she feared for her job if word had gotten out, and so he’d respected her wishes, much as it ate at him.

  Now, however, he felt something strong in between them. Something more concrete, that he couldn’t easily brush aside in a broom closest or when her office door closed behind him. There would be no stealing kisses here, no casual body contact that promised him so much more.

  It was that realization which hit him the hardest, causing Lucien to step back and acknowledge that she had her walls up, a barrier in place. It was only natural, and once more, he would have to respect it until
she was ready to let it down, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t painful to realize.

  “I understand you’re sorry,” she said. “I even believe it. But Lucien, that doesn’t just automatically make everything okay. You’re hiding things from me. Lying to me.”

  He shook his head. “Not lying. I haven’t told you any falsehoods. I just haven’t revealed everything that’s going on.” He met her eyes, seeking out the golden-brown circles and holding them with all the strength his gaze possessed. “I will never lie to you,” he said forcefully.

  “Then tell me how you’ve healed so fast,” she whispered, dropping her hand back to her side. “You were at death’s door last night. You should be barely able to move still. Yet here you are, walking, with skin where you had cuts last night.”

  Lucien closed his eyes. “I guess maybe I wasn’t as badly hurt as you thought?” he tried.

  “That,” Alison said coldly, “sounds awfully close to being a lie. I saw the blood. I can see the blood, because it’s in my carpet. And if there’s that much here, how much did you leave across town, Lucien? I’m not an idiot, do not treat me as one.”

  He nodded. She was right.

  “I have been more than accommodating to you so far,” she continued, her voice growing in strength as she spoke. “I brought you in, listened to your insane request not to call for help. I fed you. Dammit, I am tired of being kept in the dark as to why all this is happening, and I deserve some answers, and I deserve them now, Lucien.”

  She didn’t say “or else”. She wasn’t threatening him. Alison was simply stating the facts as she saw them, and he was hard-pressed to find a fault in that. Everything she’d said was true, and he had to be trying her patience.

  But that didn’t mean he was the only one not telling the entire truth. Alison was keeping things from him as well. He could sense it, hear it. There was an anger and hurt in her that had been caused by him but…not caused by him. That made no sense of course, but Lucien couldn’t quite figure it out. It was almost as if…as if…

  “Lucien.”

  “Right,” he said, focusing on the moment. “Answers. Um.”

  Taking her hand, he led her to the couch so they could both sit down. Neither of them spoke. They were close enough to be within one another’s bubble, but not so close that it was uncomfortable. Like everything else, there was a barrier between them now, separating their personal space from each other. He didn’t dare breach it with anything more than a hand.

  “While I’m trying to find the words,” he said. “Can you tell me something?”

  “Bold,” she said, irritated but not upset. “What do you want me to tell you?”

  “What’s the real reason you’re upset? Or perhaps I should rephrase that,” he said quickly as her eyes blazed with golden flames. “What’s the other reason you’re upset. The one you’re not telling me.”

  Alison looked away, but not before he caught a flash of pain in those eyes, the fires doused in a split second. Although it provided him with no more information, it did confirm that he wasn’t imagining things.

  Tentatively, he reached out to take her hand, to give it a reassuring squeeze, hoping it was the right move. Hoping she would understand.

  11

  The familiar warmth of his oversized paw closing around hers should have been comforting. Pleasant. Appreciated. Instead it was just warm.

  Alison turned her head back, keeping her eyes low to avoid Lucien’s while she stared at that physical connection. What was her brain trying to tell her? It was a hand. Lucien’s hand, to be exact. The five fingers of a man who, in a time of great need, had come to her, of all people. Now he was here, trying to…what was he trying to do?

  It was confusing. All of it. There were so many questions left unanswered since he’d shown up the night before. Every time she tried to ask him for answers though, he skirted the issue. Like now, he was trying to divert attention back to her, and take it off himself. It was frustrating.

  Not only did she want to know how he had healed so fast, but, Alison realized, she wanted to know more simply, why? Why come to her? There were plenty of other places he could have gone that could have provided shelter and food. Weren’t there? Yet despite those other options, he’d come to her. Why?

  What could she provide that the others couldn’t? What did he need?

  Alison stiffened. Of course. Of course!

  There it was, plain as day for anyone to see if they only looked hard enough. Lucien had come to her, in a time of great need. Need. The bastard wanted something from her! He was using her. Why else would he show up after disappearing for half a year? Because there was something he wanted from her.

  Standing up, she shed his hand and walked across the room.

  “Tell me,” she snapped.

  Lucien, already watching in consternation, frowned. “Tell you…what?” he said slowly, caught off guard by her change of mood.

  “Why are you suddenly so interested in me?” she said in the same frosty tone, whirling on him while pacing across the living room to level an accusatory finger. “Don’t think I’m an idiot. You don’t vanish then suddenly show up without reason. It’s clear you didn’t need a helping hand to heal, and you could get food anywhere. So you came to me because you need something from me. What is it?”

  Lucien stood up, spreading his hands wide, trying to plead with her to calm down, but Alison wasn’t having any of it.

  “I’m not hysterical,” she said, putting up a hand to stop him where he was. “I’m not shouting, I’m not screaming. I’m just finally seeing the cold, hard truth. There are far too many lies. Untruths, whatever you want to call them, floating around right now. The lack of information you’re providing is dipping into the level of insulting, Lucien.”

  She saw her words strike home; like bombs fired across a battlefield, they exploded in his eyes, pulling them downward, in shame or pain she wasn’t sure. A non-insignificant part of her wasn’t even sure she cared, which scared her slightly, but she didn’t let up. If she wanted respect, she would have to stand up for herself.

  Lucien, she was realizing, was not the man she thought he was. Hoped he was? Alison didn’t know anymore. Things had gotten so blurry with his return that she couldn’t decide.

  “Tell me, Lucien,” she said softly. “How am I supposed to trust you with anything, when you trust me with nothing?”

  The huge shifter sagged visibly under her verbal onslaught, but he didn’t go down. “I trusted you enough to come to you,” he whispered into the silence yawning between them.

  Alison’s arms came up, crossing just below her breasts as she regarded him with a critical, opened eye. An eye no longer letting itself be fooled by his rugged good looks and charm. She was seeing things clearly now, perhaps for the first time since he’d flirted with her that day in the hospital.

  She bit her lip, trying not to smile at her memory of that interaction. To say it had been unexpected was a grand understatement. Alison had been so caught off guard by the twinkle in his eye and the compliment that flowed from his lips that she’d panicked.

  Panicked would be putting it politely. You can’t lie to yourself. You freaked out, mumbled that you had to go check the mail—which made no sense—and ran back to your office.

  After a long rest of her shift spent avoiding him, and a night of introspection with Bergey, she’d decided that it had to be a mistake. A friendly compliment, nothing more. After all, he had been her boss. Surely he wouldn’t hit on her. Would he?

  The next day, he’d complimented her, but his approach had been more reserved. Not quite so bold. She’d politely responded. Then run back to her office. The day after, it happened twice more. Then three times. By the end of the week, they were openly flirting when nobody else was around.

  Three days later, they found themselves alone in a break room, and he’d touched her. A simple hand on the back, but just a little too low to be work appropriate. Alison, despite a painful lack of experience in that
department, had managed to keep her cool. It could still just have been his normal way of acting, she’d said to herself.

  Those assumptions went out the window when he’d come to see her in her office the next afternoon. She’d stood to greet him, but instead of a handshake, he’d come in for a hug. Alison had frozen, her body operating on autopilot as it returned the gesture—and then for some reason held on a little bit longer.

  The tension in the room continued to ratchet upward when she didn’t retake her seat. They stood talking, less than a foot between them. She’d been babbling on about something or other when out of nowhere, Lucien had curled a finger under her jaw and lifted her mouth to his.

  She’d had just long enough to make a surprised noise before those firm lips had covered hers. The dam broke, and with it her restraint. Alison had flung her arms around his neck and let him kiss her deeply and thoroughly, the first time since her college years that she’d let herself experience that.

  They’d continued on with their “torrid” workplace affair for another month and a half. Outside of work, they’d seen each other occasionally, but Alison had been careful never to let it get past the level of heated touching. She wasn’t ready, and Lucien had seemed to be okay with waiting.

  Until one time he’d vanished in the middle of the night, without warning, without trace. The first she’d known of it, was the next morning. Alison had walked into work to see a notice about an impromptu staff meeting. As it turned out, that meeting was to introduce Lucien’s replacement.

  She’d feared he was dead, but the replacement, Linken, had assured everyone he was not. It was the only thing he’d reassured them about in regards to Lucien.

  Now he was here. Back in Plymouth Falls, and in her house. And she wanted to know why.

  “Is that really it, Lucien? Or did you come to me because you want something from me?” Her tone made it very clear that she expected the truth, and no lies.