She wanted to feel no fear. She wanted to pretend that what she'd heard, and understood, and had been threatened with, was all a lie-a sick joke by a sick Beast. But as Lucian appeared out of nowhere at the water's edge, his eyes finding her in an instant, she buried that hope deep within herself. She was no automaton, no female warrior ready to take on her enemy. She was just a simple veana, a veana who was deeply and profoundly afraid of being taken against her will.
Especially by this paven.
This beautiful, terrifying angel of blood who had given her strength once upon a time when she'd needed it, and had given her shit many a time when she hadn't wanted it. This one who had ruled her thoughts, her dreams, and her fantasies every night for months. She didn't want to ever be afraid of him.
Her lip quivered and she bit it. Hard. What would happen now? Would he swim out to her as the animal that her abductor had claimed he was? And if he did, would she have the guts to fight him completely? Would she have the heart to be sickened by him and what he wanted from her?
He moved then. Stepped into the water, lifted his hands expectantly, and called out across the calm sea, "Having a swim, Princess?"
The dark humor that resided in his tone-that always resided in his tone-made her release the breath she was holding in her lungs. There was no feral animal there-not yet anyway. It was him-the him she knew, the one who taunted and teased her.
"Come out of there, Veana," he called, louder this time. "We have no time for bathing."
"No," she called back. "Can't."
He tilted his head in curiosity. "Why the hell not?"
She hated to say it-say it out loud, admit it. But what was the choice? "I have no clothes on."
He made a grunting sound, deep in his throat. "Sure hope not. You're in the water."
"I'm in the water because I have no clothes on, Lucian," she shouted.
His pale brows shot upward. "Is that right?"
"Yes," she said quickly. "So just stay there. We can talk this way."
"No. Hell no." He pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto the sand. "I'm not going to caw back and forth like two parrots."
"Wait..."
He pulled off his pants.
"Stop!"
Oh my God, what was he doing? She shifted on the large rock that held her weight and kept her comfortably above the water, and tried desperately not to stare at his long, lean frame as it became more and more exposed. Her eyes darted from him, from skin, hard muscle to the hill beyond, the palms and the endless stretch of beach.
"If the princess won't come to the asshole," he called, "then the asshole will have to come to the princess."
She backed up a step. "Don't you dare get in this water."
He grinned as he walked straight into the sea toward her, only his bottom half covered. "Don't be shy, Princess. I've seen you all wet before. Remember?"
Her face went pink and she lifted her chin. "If you're referring to your nightly stalking routine, then you should be ashamed to even mention it."
"Hey. Not my fault. You take a paven's blood, you get his prowl."
"I was ill, starving," she said stiffly. "It was one moment in time, and you did offer it to me. Let's never forget that."
"I don't," he uttered, just a few feet away now.
She put out a hand to stop him before he got close enough to touch her. Before he got close enough to touch. "That's far enough."
His pale brown eyes looked clear. Cocky-but clear. "Nothing to fear from me, Princess. You're a mated veana now. Your body belongs to another. As does your skin, your unbeating heart, your pu-"
"Stop that," she warned him, trying desperately not to stare at the smooth crests and valleys of his wide, muscular chest.
He inclined his head. "My apologies. I am a self-confessed heathen. But my point is, your body will only want to give to him. And his mark, his scent, will turn me off-so there's nothing to worry about here-between us."
Inside of that moment, Bronwyn felt the breath leave her body and shoot off into the perfect sunset. He had no idea why they were here-or why she had been placed here, nude and scared. Just as he had no idea that the mark on her hand was made, not out of true love, but out of ink and deception.
He was staring at that mark now, his jaw tight. "Nice brand."
She swallowed tightly. "I think so."
"I met the paven, by the way," Lucian said, water lapping at his neck, his hard jaw. "Seems like a huge dick."
She lifted a brow and quickly jumped to Syn's defense. "Haven't seen it yet, but I'll let you know."
Lucian's lip curled.
She shook her head. "This is foolish. This back and forth. We have a serious problem here."
"I'd say it's more of a predicament."
"Come on, Lucian. This is far more than a predicament."
His shoulders seemed to grow broader, more powerful under his self-assured gaze. "I'll take care of it."
"Really? How?" She'd been desperately trying to find a way out for hours. And her only solution so far was to hide in the water.
"At some point, someone will show up-maybe even my half brother," he added with a sneer, "and tell us what they want."
"Wait. What?" She stared hard at him. "You knew," she accused him fiercely, her stomach clenching as her mind processed. "You knew that that monster was the one who abducted me?" She released a shaky breath. "Please tell me you didn't have anything to do with-"
"Hey!" he interrupted her sternly. "Don't even go there, Veana. This kind of thing ain't my style." His gaze flickered with heat. "No matter how into you I may be-or have been," he corrected himself. "I don't take what doesn't belong to me."
She wondered if he really believed that. She sure as hell didn't. Lucian Roman had absolutely no moral compass or code. He was a heathen of the first order, and a paven who took whatever he wanted without a thought to consequences. It was unfortunately one of the many things she found attractive about him.
"But you knew about Nicholas's twin," she said, pushing that last thought aside.
"Only after your male friend said you were abducted by Nicky." He cocked his head to the side, the ends of his white hair licking the water's surface. "Didn't take long after that for me to realize the gemino was at work."
Hours of fear and wondering when Lucian was going to show up, and how he was going to act when he did, erupted inside her. "He took my clothes."
All humor and easy manner evaporated from him. "What?"
"The gemino," she said. "That's why I'm out here...like this. Stripped them right off my body with his magic," she continued with passion.
Lucian growled. "I'll kill him."
Her gaze faltered. "I stood there naked before him while he told me to prepare myself. Told me you were coming for me. That you were coming to..." She stopped. She couldn't go on, couldn't say it. Not to his face. No matter how familiar he felt in that moment, in that unfamiliar situation and landscape, the words would not leave her mouth.
Momentarily stunned, Lucian just stared at her. She'd seen him angry, disgusted, arrogant, but she'd never seen him horrified. She'd never seen him with even a trace of fear in his eyes. Until now.
"Lucian?" she began.
"I'll get us out of here," he said quickly, his eyes darkening as the skin around his muscles tightened with strain.
Bronwyn bit her lip. "And then..."
"And then I'll slit the throats of everyone responsible for putting you in my path." He lowered his chin and said slowly and blackly, "Stay in the water."
"Where are you going?"
"To find a way out of here." With that, he turned and dove under the water. With great speed and precision, he swam toward the shore.
Two hours later, after investigating every inch of the "island" and finding nothing but vegetation and more water, Lucian stood on the sand, his chest exposed to the warmth of the false setting sun, his white hair shifting in the manufactured breeze, and faced reality. He could no longer act cavalier and brazenly confident about his ability to get them off this plane.
This was Cruen's doing-this exquisite prison. It was obvious and purposeful and undeniably worrisome, and as night slowly descended around him, and Bronwyn continued to exist in the sea alone, stand on her rocky perch under the water, Lucian fought for calm inside himself. He was growing weary from hunger, and the scent of her-even with the mark upon her hand and the sizable distance between them-was demanding entrance inside his nostrils.
Control was a funny thing. When you had somewhere to run to, to escape the call of blood, the need was no longer fierce. But without the escape hatch, desire chased you like a demon.
The flickering jabs of ferocity unnerved him, sobered him. He wouldn't allow her to see his concern or his hunger. Just as he wouldn't allow her to tell him what the Beast had said, what he'd predicted would happen to her, even though he had a pretty good idea.
He walked to the water's edge. She was still out there, her unclothed form hidden beneath the water's surface. Safe from his gaze, his need. For now.
She had to be getting cold.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and called, "Come out."
"Can't," she called back.
"You can and you must. It's growing dark." He could practically hear her thoughts, her concern. "You can wear my shirt. It'll cover...everything." He took the extra-large button down and spread it out closer to the water, then walked away and kept his back to her.
She was silent for a good minute; then he heard her swimming, coming toward the shore.
It wasn't his way. Chivalry and thoughtfulness. In his many years of life, Lucian Roman had considered only Lucian Roman. For the most part. But this veana, the princess, she needed his care. Even if it was done sparingly and cautiously.
"Lucian?" she said after a few minutes, her voice closer now, perhaps just a few feet away.
"Don't worry, Princess," he uttered. "Eyes down."
He wouldn't look, but he wanted to. Hell, he wanted to so fucking bad he ached from nose to nuts.
She was quick putting on the shirt, and in under a minute, she called out, "Okay."
He turned around, keeping his eyes off of her and those legs peeking out from under the white cotton that not so long ago covered the skin of his chest.
"Why don't you sit?" He gestured to a huge chunk of palm he'd ripped from one of the trees. "It's not the lap of luxury or anything, but it's something. It'll keep your ass off the sand."
"Thanks." She did as he offered, then pushed her knees up inside her shirt for warmth. And yet she continued to shiver.
"You're cold."
"It's okay," she said softly. "I'm fine." The quiet defeat in her tone bothered him. Bothered him more than it should. She was cold and scared-and fuck, he wasn't going to touch her.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Not yet."
Good. Feeding her would be absolute hell. But he'd do it. If he had to, he'd do it.
"I'm just tired," she said.
He felt her eyes on him, and he made the mistake of looking, of meeting her gaze. As always, her beauty was lush and undeniable, and had a strength he couldn't relate to.
"You go to sleep," he said, turning back to the water, scanning the horizon, the length of beach, for anything that threatened. "I'll keep watch. See if that brother of mine shows his face."
Bronwyn did as he said, lying back against the long strip of palm. She was quiet for a while. Then out of the growing dusk, she whispered, "Lucian?"
"Yeah." He glanced down at her, couldn't help himself. Just as he couldn't help the way his eyes moved over every inch of her: smooth legs under white cotton, the curved outline of an unbound breast, the delectable peak of one nipple pressing against the fabric of his shirt.
And the face, he mused with the grief of a captive paven-that face held such exquisite beauty marred only by the strength of worry...
"It's not a predicament," she said, her dark eyes on his.
"No, it's not," he uttered.
"It's bad."
Her distress tore at his gut. "It ain't good."
She curled her arms into her chest, her hands under her chin. "We're stuck here, aren't we?"
He scoffed, then shook his head. "Can't be, Princess. Can't be. Because if we're stuck here, it's only a matter of time before I turn into the Breeding Male."
