Lair of Beasts [Book I in the Curse Of Blood Saga]

Chapter VII - Lucian Greyback

"Good of you to join us, Lucian," the earl drawled with forbearance, his left brow arching imperceptibly, as a tall, young man with a stormy countenance emerged into view.

I was instantly fascinated and repelled all at once for he was both handsome and cruel-looking. He stood even taller than Godwin, if that was possible. However, Lucian, though nearly six foot five, had not the bulk his father possessed. He was lean where his father was stalwart and brawny and I could not fathom his brazen demeanor; he glared openly at his father, but said naught for an uncomfortable length of time.

At last Lucian began speaking to his father, albeit in rapid-fire Norn — which I, obviously, could not follow. A thousand different thoughts and emotions were congesting my brain at the very same instant as I watched his lips move angrily the while he spoke. They were slightly fuller than was average — even pursed in anger as they were — and the bottom lip more so than its counterpart.

Just above the left corner of his mouth sat an intriguing, dark, little freckle which stood out more so because the rest of the golden skin of his face was devoid of them; or any blemishes for that matter. His might have been a beautiful mouth had it not been snarling the way it did now. The rest of his face was also pleasing for he had fine, masculine bone structure to compliment his symmetrical features: his nose was straight and chiseled, and his jaw squared along stubborn counters before converging into a noticeable cleft that was carved into his chin. But for all his male beauty, it was his eyes that arrested me most.

They were light brown...no, amber in hue and were framed by heavy, straight brows and thick black lashes. The overall effect might have left a lesser maid swooning, but for the potent anger in his gaze and the cruel twist of his mouth.

I was ripped from my scrutiny as Lucian's father brought a heavy fist down on his armrest with a resounding crash.

"Speak Gaeldic, Lucian!" thundered the earl. Having momentarily loosed his temper, he seemed to collect himself the next instant. He sighed and introduced me forthwith to Lucian in a much controlled and almost facetious tone.

"Ariana, this pleasant young man before you is my son, Lucian," he said through clenched, uncanny teeth.

I might have replied that it was a pleasure to meet him, but since I had been so effectively dissuaded from uttering falsehoods, I merely nodded. Lucian studied me distastefully for what seemed an awkward age in which his expression seemed to sour exponentially. Having taken my measure, and obviously finding me severely lacking, he dismissed me completely and addressed his sire.

"So, I am to marry a toddler, then? Where shall we have our wedding night? In the nursery perhaps?!"

"Lucian...!" The earl sounded exasperated, but his son continued heedlessly.

"How old is she, eight?"

"I am ten, My Lord." My answer, spoken demurely, seemed to give Lucian pause. He pinned me once again with his fierce golden eyes that were now narrowed balefully. "Today is my b-birthday..." I stuttered.

His glare was far too potent, and I too inexperienced to hold it, therefore I looked instead to the floor for answers; willing it, with dismal resignation, to open up and swallow me whole.

"Then you are old enough to know not to speak to adults unless you are spoken to."

"God's teeth, Lucian!" His father rose threateningly from his seat. "Enough! If you cannot keep a civil tongue in that surly mouth of yours, then I shall ask you to leave!"

"All the better!" Lucian's glare was combative.

The elder merely held his ground and folded his arms with a dark frown, as if to say, 'Now who's being the infant?' At his father's continued, silent glare, Lucian finally gave a frustrated sigh and clasped the back of his neck in agitation.