An Elegy For The Soul

Chapter Fifteen

An Assault of Words

Deep, throbbing pain surged through Lucan's ribs, jolting him awake. Something heavy crashed against the wall behind his bed, and he instinctively rolled to the ground, narrowly avoiding the assault.

"Get up!" Aven's voice pierced through the room, her pale green eyes ablaze with fury. 

If looks could kill, Lucan would have been reduced to ashes right then and there. A book hurled past him, crashing into the end table and sending tins of dried tobacco clattering to the floor.

"How dare you not tell me that you're alive and well."

Drowsy and disoriented, Lucan struggled to break free from the grasp of sleep as Aven's furious assault continued. In his clumsy attempt to dodge her wrath, he stumbled and crashed onto the hardwood floor. The thud of his bare chest meeting the floor was muffled by the noise of yet another book colliding with his desk. He silently thanked the heavens for her poor aim, regretting, for the first time, the abundance of tomes cluttering his room.

"Mercy!" Lucan yelled, his arms instinctively shielding the back of his head from the deluge of loose papers cascading down from his desk.

River burst into their quarters and seized Aven's wrist just as she attempted to launch another attack, this time wielding a small journal instead of his encyclopedia of tropical finches.

"For the love of gods, calm yourself," River said, and Lucan groaned. Now he'd done it. Tact, along with any sense of personal style, were just a few of River's shortcomings.

Aven yanked her hand free and redirected her fury toward him. The ethereal beauty of a soft, self-effacing woman morphed into the dreaded scorn. Soon, there would be bloodshed.

Lucan rose from the ground, brushing off bits of debris. "What our dear River meant to say is that he admires your enthusiasm."

The journal flew directly towards Lucan's face. He batted it out of the way before it could make contact, shaking the sting from his palm. Aven's contradictory behavior sent a thrill down his spine. He was mesmerized by how she lived quietly on the perimeter of life, yet she always pushed back.

Hands raised, palms forward in surrender, River took several steps back. "Godspeed, Thurst. I never pegged you for the martyr type."

Aven charged Lucan.

With a swift and fluid motion, he enveloped her in his arms and brought them both crashing onto the bed. The room filled with her indignant cry, echoing like a banshee's wail. Her fair skin flushed red with exertion, each breath a delectable huff beneath him.

As silk fabric slid across his bare chest, her jeweled brooch jabbed into his muscles. Despite his weight pressing her down, she continued to squirm, a sheen of tears glistening in her green eyes.

"Release me, you brute," Aven protested, blinking rapidly as she pushed against Lucan's weight, though it proved futile. He wasn't much taller than her, but his solid frame made him practically immovable.

"I fear I can do no such thing," he grunted against a surprisingly powerful shove. "The detriment of the world lay beneath me, and it is my solemn duty to protect the innocent."

After one last fruitless push, Aven stilled beneath Lucan's weight. "You are no innocent," she whispered, a tear escaping from the outer corner of her eye. She quickly turned her head to the side, concealing the watery trail that glistened with fragments of her broken heart.