Synching With the Devil's Son

Chapter 7

Bella's P.O.V.

I'm not drunk enough to face this. Every nerve in my body is hyper aware of Lucien sitting next to me. Everyone just expects me to accept the sleeping arrangements when I can barely sleep alone in my own bed in the comfort of my room. I reach over and remove the joint from Lucien's hand, take a long drag and then give it back to him. Trish, Ryan, Daniel and Scarlett have already gone to their tents, so I look over to where my remaining friends sit near the campfire. Mick's got Liz in between his legs, cradling her against his chest, looking down at her with affection. 'Well, you got what you wanted Elizabeth,' I think morosely to myself. My inner conversation is interrupted when Jeff and Harmony bid us a good night, sticking their hands in each other's back pockets as they head off toward their tent. My attention returns to Mick and Liz, silently entreating them to stay by the campfire for a little longer so I can get more wasted. Of course they don't listen to my silent pleas, and a few minutes later excuse themselves, retreating to their tent. I can hear Liz giggle and Mick let out a low groan, and I roll my eyes at them, slapping my hands on my legs in frustration. That's when I hear Lucien chuckle beside me.

"Can't stand the thought they're getting some and you're not?" he asks, blowing smoke all over me as I sit next to him.

Ignoring him, I get up and stumble toward our make-shift toilet, hoping he will have magically disappeared before I get back. Of course he hasn't. He's sitting there, quietly smoking pot and sipping on his beer. I debate the benefits of sleeping in one of the cars, but rule it out almost immediately. Two are stick shift flatbed trucks with no backseat, and Trish's car is ladened with all our gear. Shit. My only recourse is to get plastered and pass out so I can be blissfully unaware I am sleeping in a tent with Lucien. I head over to our bar and pour a double shot of vodka into a cup, forcing it down in one swallow. I grip the edge of the table, shivering as the alcohol burns down my throat, and then I hear Lucien chuckle again.

"I am that bad that you find the need to ignore me until you pass out?" I hear his deep voice inquire. It sends an unfamiliar tingle down my spine and I close my eyes, gripping the edge of the table tightly. I am NOT attracted to him. I'm not. I just think the timber of his voice very appealing, The reason for my momentary lapse in judgement must be because I am getting wasted.

"Yes," I huff, immediately regretting being mean. This is not how I want to deal with people in college, Chris would be disappointed in me. "Sorry, that was rude," I say quietly. Yes, I cannot stand Lucien, yes, he pisses me off, but my discomfort isn't just because of him. I cannot face sleeping in the same room as a man, any man, not just Lucien. The terror that grips me when I think about how he can overpower me makes my stomach roil, and not in a good way. I suddenly realize all the rich food and alcohol are going to make a reappearance, and I will never be able to live past the embarrassment of vomiting in front of my nemesis. So I do the only logical thing my inebriated brain tells me to do. I run into the woods.