Synching With the Devil's Son

Chapter 13

Bella's P.O.V.

Lucien is being nice to me. What alternate universe have I found my self in? He's tending to my injuries with the confidence of a licensed physician, and he's so gentle and thorough that I'm beginning to wonder why there is so much strife between us. I sit there, remembering the way he would look at me with derision, or hurl snarky comments in my direction, and for the life of me, I cannot merge his two divergent personalities. When he looks at my legs and nods slightly, and then searches for the wound he cleaned on my arm, I'm not sure what to think anymore. Who is this guy and why is he being so attentive to me? "One more," he tells me gently, reaching for the compress I've been holding above my eye. I follow his eyes as he traces the wound, and I can tell it must be pretty deep because he gets up, walks to the river and returns with a fresh compress. He hands it to me and sits down while I apply pressure against the throbbing area on my face again...I have to admit, the cold compress feels really good. I am flabbergasted when I finally realize he used his shirt to make the strips of fabric he's been cleaning my wounds with. He sits next to me under the bright light of the moon, shirtless, his muscles flexing and shifting as he moves. I try not to stare because I have never seen anyone so superbly defined in my life. This is a side of him I have blatantly ignored because since the day we met, his personality masked anything appealing about him. But this Lucien? This kind man who has taken it upon himself to find me, comfort me, clean me up...this Lucien I find extremely attractive.

"Can I see it again?" he asks, pulling me out of my reverie. I remove the fabric and stare into his amazing blue eyes as they investigate my wound. I see him grimace, but then he looks at me with such tenderness and says, "You're still bleeding, but I can make it stop. Do you trust me?" Trust him? An hour ago I despised him, and that revelation isn't news to him. How can he ask me if I trust him? Do I though? He rescued me from my terror and tended to my wounds without judgement or censure. Then he murmurs, "I promise you it won't hurt," and he takes my hand in his large warm one, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. If I were standing, my knees would have buckled. His touch is electrifying, I can feel it all the way down to my toes. I look down at how small my hand appears nestled in his, and when I look back into his fathomless blue eyes I realize I do, in fact, trust him. I slowly nod my head, afraid to use my voice, afraid it will waver and show him how much his proximity and touch are effecting me.

"Close your eyes," he says gently, his breath caressing my face. I realize I am willingly his to control, so I relax and close my eyes, opening them again when I feel him gently take my face between his strong hands. "It's okay, close your eyes," he tells me again, and I feel a pull in my stomach like I'm in the initial drop of a large roller coaster. My attraction to him hits me like a bolt of lightning and I have to hold onto his wrists to stabilize myself. My fingers cannot encompass his thick wrists, he is that much bigger and stronger than I am, and if I think about it too long, I will probably start to panic. So instead I concentrate on how he is delicately examining the cut above my eye. His exploration is so gentle, and I'm trying not to lean into his touch, when he surprises me to tell me he's all done. Then he flabbergasts me again when he begins to clean the remaining dried blood off my face. I look at him with adoration, and he smiles at me in a way I know he's feeling something between us as well. Then the spell is broken when he stands up and offers me his hand to help me stand up with him.

I look at his outstretched hand and make a decision. I reach out for it and when he tries to pull me up, I tug back, looking up at him through my lashes. I clear my throat and hoarsely whisper, "Can we sit here a while longer?" I don't want to lose this delicate truce we seem to have found, and the solitude of the forest with the river crashing next to us is more than a little romantic. I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life and recall the feelings of serenity and attraction I have as I gaze upon the gorgeous man next to me. At his look of surprise I smile at him and pat the grass next to me. He sits back down, his legs stretched out in front of him and his weight held on his hands behind him. I realize he must be cold since he's not wearing a shirt, so, in a move that I will look back upon later and wonder where I found the gumption, I get up and sit in his lap, completely uninvited. When he startles, I lean into him and whisper, "Let me help keep you warm since you've done so much for me." I wrap my arms around his neck and put my head on his wide shoulder. When he doesn't protest, I relax into his embrace and start playing with the hair on the back of his neck, smiling when his arms come around my waist to secure my position on his lap.