Fox and Fawn

day four

lucien

day four

"Here's to alcohol, the rose colored glasses of life."

― F. Scott Fitzgerald

Take Me Home -- Angus and Julia Stone

It was a gamble to have their fourth outing here. A pub. Lucien didn't often frequent taverns, he was far more partial to cafe's or refined restaurants. He still hadn't recovered from Jurian dragging him to that gods' awful bar for Vassa's birthday last year. It had been noisy and dark and smelled absolutely foul.

But this place - Rita's it was called - it was actually nice. And the hostess (who had a sense of industriousness to rival Feyre) had seated him in an immaculately clean booth by a window with a view of the street.

Lucien noted with a frown that fluffy snowflakes still rained down from the sky.

He had never been fond of winter, not only because of his roots in the Autumn and Spring Court, but because he hated the cold. His feet would always grow damp even in his finest boots, then his toes would begin to freeze. And sometimes the wind would chill his metal eye, stalling it in place. Despite the fire in his veins, Lucien was never able to get warm enough in the winter. Especially his fingers and his nose.

Well, never mind his fingers now. The gloves Elain had given him blocked out the chill so well he wondered if they were enchanted (or perhaps he was a little biased).

They suddenly felt heavy in the pocket of his trousers.

Although he cherished the gloves he knew the truth was that yesterday after she'd given them to him, it had been the beginning of the end.

She'd said such kind things to him and had shown a hope, a regard for Lucien that he hadn't received in years. And that was all it had taken. A thoughtful gift and a glimpse of concern and he had broken. Lucien's resolve to guard his heart had crumbled and shattered into a thousand pieces. Pieces he couldn't bring himself to bother to pick up and put back together. For now, he was allowing himself to hope freely.

Well, almost freely. He was no longer approaching this timeline with the mind to sever the bond despite anything that may happen. He was now fully participating in the challenge, completely open to the outcome that may or may not arise.

But he had to tread lightly. He had to ensure that he remained "open" and nothing more. He could not hope for one outcome or the other.

Then again, she was his mate. Was it really so ill-advised to hope for Elain's agreement?

Lucien's stomach plummeted as the grim realization slowly sunk in. Oh, gods...

He didn't want to move on.

He wanted the bond.

He wanted her.

He wanted Elain Archeron.

Just the thought made his teeth clench. What was he thinking?

No, that was it.

He wasn't thinking.

Because if he did dare to for even a second, he would dig in his heels and call off this whole bargain. He would damn Elain and her fickle, human heart and whatever potential they had.

He'd gone centuries without a mate and he would be content to go on for centuries more. Right?

Yes. His feeble aspirations for love were as laughable as he had presumed and--