Until the Sun Falls from the Sky (6 page)

I waited, slightly panicked and definitely scared, to be torn asunder.

Instead, I heard his rich shout of laughter before I found myself in his lap.

That’s right. One second I was standing one foot in front of him offering him my blood as his lifeline. The next second (or maybe half a second), he was seated. I was in his lap, one of his arms tight around my front and hip, the other one strong along my spine between my shoulder blades, his fingers in my hair. My torso was pressed to the surprising warmth of his, my arms crushed at my sides.

His face was in my neck and he was still laughing.

He did this for a while. I sat stiff in his lap while he did.

Then his head moved, his mouth went to my ear and he murmured, “I knew you’d be fun.”

“I’m not trying to be fun,” I told the wall behind him with total truthfulness.

He gently tugged on my hair to pull my head back and he lifted his own to face me. “I know. That’s why you’re fun.”

I glared. He grinned.

He looked good grinning or I should say,
even better
, so I sighed.

“Can we get this over with, please?”

His eyes traveled over my face and hair. “Is this all for me?”

“What?”

His arm came from around my front and his hand gestured to my head. A hand, I might add, that was just as attractive as he was, all long tapered fingers and strong veins, really, it wasn’t fair.

“What?” I repeated, still not knowing what he was on about.

“You’re far more beautiful without all that garbage.”

I ignored him calling me beautiful. He wasn’t going to be a domineering freak, telling me he was my master one meeting and then charm me by calling me beautiful the next.

“Or are you trying to turn me off?” he asked.

“Do you mean the hair and makeup?”

“Yes.”

This genuinely confused me, so much so I didn’t guard my answer. “Your lady did it.”

“My lady?”

“Edwina. She came in earlier and gave me the works. I thought that was part of the deal.”

“Edwina,” he muttered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “too many good intentions, not enough sense.”

“Sorry?”

His eyes focused on mine. “Leah, Edwina is your housekeeper. She’s not your lady’s maid. Do what you wish with your hair and your face.” He paused then said, “Or, I should say, do what
I
wish with your hair and your face which means no more of
that
.”

I decided instantly that Edwina was going to do my hair and makeup every time he came over.

He must have read my mind because he roared with laughter. He did this as he caught me in his arms again, pulling me close to his chest and shoving his face in my neck so his mirth tingled, unwanted (but also not unpleasant), along my skin.

“I’m so glad you’re having such a good time,” I grumbled to the wall.

“I am too. Thank you.” His gratitude was also expressed against the skin at my neck in a dry wit that only made
him
chuckle.

“Is this going to take all night?” I kept grumbling.

His mouth shifted from my neck to my ear where he murmured, “Impatient.”

For once in my life I wasn’t. Not really. There were two billion and five other things I would prefer to be doing. However, since this was my only choice, I was (kind of) ready to have it over with.

His face came out of my neck, he pulled back and looked at me.

“I see your studies didn’t convince you this was something you’d take to.”

“I was expelled,” I announced.

His brows drew together before he said, “Pardon?”

“I was expelled,” I repeated.

“You were expelled,” he repeated after me.

I nodded.

“From Vampire Studies,” he continued.

I nodded again.

His brows drew further together, ominously further.

“Why don’t I know this?”

I ignored the ominous brow draw. “My Aunt Kate and Aunt Millicent went to talk to the instructor. They swore him to secrecy,” I waved my hand in between our faces, “the whole Buchanan reputation and all that. They don’t want it besmirched.”

“What did you do?” he asked.

“Sorry?”

“To get expelled, what did you do?”

I decided to answer.

Why not? What could go wrong?

“I was texting my friends, you know, to say good-bye because I had to move here and it’s not close. It was a quick thing for them. Obviously I couldn’t tell them I was all of a sudden a vampire’s concubine because they don’t know you all exist and they’d think I needed a loony bin. So I had to tell them I had to quit work and care for an invalid aunt they’d never heard about. They were freaking.”

Lucien looked angry though I sensed (shockingly) not at me. “They could have simply confiscated your phone.”

“They did,” I informed him. “Then I started passing notes in class.”

His eyes locked on mine then they blinked
very slowly
.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did you pass notes in class?”

“I was bored.” He made no reply so I explained, “We were in the vampire history part, that’s boring. It went on forever. The other concubines weren’t into passing notes. They acted like vampire history was their life’s true meaning so they told on me.”

He sighed and stated, “Leah, you’re forty years old.”

“Yes. So?”

“Isn’t it a little juvenile to be passing notes in class at your age?”

I’d heard that before.

Being juvenile was yet another of my bad traits, or so others thought. Like my Aunt Kate. And my Aunt Millicent.
And
my Aunt Nadia (sometimes, most of the time Aunt Nadia thought I was a hoot). And my goodie-two-shoes, perfection personified cousin Myrna.

I felt my body grow stiff and my nose, of its own accord, went half an inch up in the air before I declared, “I’ll grow up when I’m ninety-three years old, not a day sooner. I made a vow to be a girl until then and I’m sticking to it.” Lucien was silent so I finished with, “I have fifty-three years left.”

He shook his head and dropped to his side on the bed taking me with him so my head was on the pillows but my bottom was tucked into his lap, my calves hanging over his thighs. His big body was at a right angle, his legs were still partially over the side of the bed but he cocked a knee so his thigh was deeper into my bottom and he went up on his forearm beside me. He was towering over me, all huge, bulky vampire and he rested his other arm at a slant across my abdomen, his fingers casually curled into my hip.

“That still isn’t terms for expulsion,” he announced while I concentrated on not hyperventilating at this new intimate position.

He was acting like we lay in bed, physically touching, nonchalantly discussing the weather, my frequent antics and the meaning of life every freaking day!

Not
like we barely knew each other, which we didn’t.

Not
like he wasn’t an overbearing vampire who’d made my life a living hell with his mind games.

Not
like he was a being I hated with all my heart.

Not
like he was there to suck my blood from my body to make him immortal and superhuman.

No
.

Like we were
something else entirely
.

“I didn’t get expelled for that,” I said and it came out breathy.

I watched close up as his tongue wet his lips then he pressed them together. I didn’t know for certain but this didn’t seem like a good sign.

Finally he said, “Let’s skip all of your other mischief and get to the part that got you expelled.”

I decided that was a good idea. I was, I should note, wrong.

I didn’t know that so I informed him, “Instead of taking the essay test at the end of the first day, I wrote my will.”

“Your will?”

“My last Will and Testament. It freaked out some of the girls. It took the instructor a while to calm them down. I didn’t mean to –”

I was so busy explaining, I missed his narrowing of the eyes. I should have paid attention.

His voice sounded angry, this time definitely at me, when he cut me off by asking, “Why in
the fuck
were you writing your will in Vampire Studies?”

Oh my.

Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted to being expelled. It was clear I definitely shouldn’t have explained why.

It was too late. I had to finish it.

“You’re a vampire,” I stated the obvious.

“Yes. And?”

“You suck people’s blood.”

“If you’d paid attention in class, my pet, you’d know we prefer to call it feeding.”

“Whatever,” I waved my hand between us again, “it’s still my blood. Things can go wrong. What if something goes wrong?”

His eyes narrowed further. “Nothing will go wrong.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

“What if you get really hungry?”

“I’ll repeat, if you’d paid attention in class, you’d know the answer to that.”

“Well I didn’t so maybe you should tell me.”

“I don’t have the time, or the inclination, to tell you.”

At his words, my body froze and I felt my blood begin to race. “So you’re going to su… I mean, feed? Now?”

He stared at me then closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath. When he opened them again they were at my throat.

My heart started beating so fast I could feel it.

“No,” he said softly, “not now.” His hand at my hip moved, sliding down the side of my thigh to my knee. Then up again. Then back again. The slit of my gown having opened, this meant his gentle movements were skin against skin.

This felt nice. I didn’t want to admit it but my body wasn’t letting me deny it.

I ignored my body and whispered, “Why not now?”

“Your heart is beating too fast, my pet. If something
could
go wrong, which it won’t,
that’s
what would make it go wrong.”

“How do you know my heart’s beating too fast?”

“I can hear it.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

Of course he could. I would have probably learned that in class too.

“What could go wrong?” I asked.

He studied me likely weighing the wisdom of answering.

Then he said, “After you’ve had enough, I have to stop the blood from coming so I can heal the wound. If it’s pumping too much, I might not be able to do that.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” I whispered.

“It wouldn’t be,” he replied, his hand still stroking my thigh. “That’s why we need to calm you down.”

“I’m not sure that’ll work,” I admitted. “Me calming down, I mean.”

He slid his arm out from under his upper body but bent his elbow and put his head in his hand. This pressed his warm chest against my side and brought his face a whole lot closer to mine.

“Let’s try, shall we?” he suggested.

I didn’t want to try. In fact, I felt hope for the first time in a week. Actually, for the first time in four weeks, since I got my invitation to The Selection.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this tonight,” I tried. “Maybe we should try tomorrow night. Or,” I hesitated, “next week.”

Or never but I wasn’t going to go that far, not yet.

My very weak hope was dashed.

“I can’t,” he replied.

“Why not?”

He sighed and his hand stopped stroking my thigh. His fingers curled into my hip again and he rolled me to my side facing him as his legs came out from under mine and he stretched out full-length beside me. His arm moved around me, his hand sliding up my back to catch a tendril of hair and start playing with it.

“I’ll give you a little lesson you
should
have learned in studies,” he began with a disapproving tone before I could give into hyperventilating at our newer, far more intimate, position.

I pulled my lips between my teeth and nodded.

“Five weeks ago, I informed The Council I would be releasing my concubine and I’d need to attend A Selection. A week ago, three hours before I arrived at your Selection, she and I officially ended our Arrangement. By law I’m not allowed to feed until I have my new concubine. Not even at A Feast. This means I haven’t fed in a week. That’s a long time, my pet,” he finished on a whisper and then went right on whispering, “I need you. Tonight.”

I ignored his admission of need, which made me feel strangely aroused. What helped that arousal (too much), was the way he whispered, his deep voice soft and low and somehow physical.

Instead, I asked, “What’s a feast?”

His hand went from playing almost tenderly (all right, so it
was
tenderly, I couldn’t deny it) with my hair, to sliding down my back and drawing circles at its small.