Synching With the Devil's Son

Chapter 15

Bella's P.O.V.

I know Lucien is trying to disguise how my sitting between his legs affects his libido, and something tender blooms in my heart. I hear him sigh quietly, and I love how he's trying to make me more comfortable by shifting me onto his thighs instead of keeping me sitting pressed against the blatant reminder of his masculinity. Somehow I know he won't force me to do anything with him, despite his attitude toward me these past few months. I feel safe, for the first time in years. Quite an emotional breakthrough, I'll have to remember to tell my therapist. As my hand travels over the hard pectoral muscles of his chest, I begin to feel the unfamiliar stirrings of desire blossom in my gut. I continue to explore his chest moving down toward his abdomen...he has an eight pack, sculpted and defined by the Gods. The waistband of his jeans hang low on his hips, accenting the sexy V where his lower abs and obliques meet. The obvious bulge beneath his zipper pulls at the tendrils of my own libido, and I lick my lips imagining what could be. I nestle my face into his neck, inhaling his scent while I valiantly try not to kiss his warm skin. I hear him murmur my name, and when I answer, he asks me what happened to make me panic tonight. So much for my desire...it's been extinguished as fast as a flame in a hurricane. I shift so I can look into his face, wondering why he wants to know.

He's looking at me with genuine curiosity and concern. Who is this man? Where did the jackass who seemed to love to torment me go? Why does he want details of the absolute worst day of my life? Is he searching for ammunition to use against the fragile and tenuous hold I have on my emotions? It doesn't seem like it. Understanding that I could be making the biggest mistake of my life, I begin to tell him about that night three years ago that changed me, and not for the better. I feel his arms tighten around me when I get to the rape, hear him swear under his breath when I explain how I was choked unconscious and left in the field. I can hear his heartbeat rise and, for some inexplicable reason, I feel like his body temperature has also risen. He offers no platitudes, no empty words of commissary, he just listens, and that is exactly what I needed from him, almost as if he understands what it was like for me. For the first time in a long time, I start to feel like I am going to be okay. Tonight has been cathartic, and Lucien has been my remedy.

"Was the man who attacked you put in prison?" he asks quietly.

I shake my head as the unfairness of it all comes rushing back. I take a shuddering breath and find the courage to look in his eyes. He seems angry, and suddenly I'm not feeling the easy camaraderie between us anymore. I don't realize I'm crying until Lucien uses the pads of his fingers to dry my tears.

"You survived," he tells me admirably as he continues to wipe my face. "You are a strong and beautiful woman who doesn't need to waste her tears on that miscreant," he says softly, tucking wayward strands of my hair behind my ear.

Did he just call me beautiful? That's the first thing he's said which makes me believe he's being disingenuous. We both know I am not beautiful. "You don't have to compliment me to try and make me feel better, Lucien," I tell him, shifting to get off his lap. I stand up and look down at his bewildered expression. Why did I just pour my heart out to the man who has made my life miserable these past few months? Sighing, I put my hands on my hips, ready to face the consequences of confessing my mortifying experience to a man who will probably use it to his advantage. I knew this was a mistake.