couldn’t stop the shiver from trickling down her spine. “So instead I should stay here and keep you company.”
His eyes glowed. He idly traced the rim of the glass of juice before him. “The company was good, wasn’t it?”
She felt herself blush, the burn crawling all the way to the tips of her ears. She stabbed at a chunk of pineapple and replied quickly, “As you’ve said, I have a month. I won’t hurt anyone until then. I’m going home.” Popping the fruit in her mouth, she chewed. It was all bravado. She knew he could chain her downstairs again. Could seduce her with a look or crook of his finger and keep her happily in his bed. But she was hoping he wouldn’t. Hoping that whatever impulse had motivated him to free her of that dark basement still held true.
“Very well. You insist on leaving the premises. Fine.”
Relief rushed through her. Her words spilled forth in a giddy rush. “I promise I’ll come back—”
“I know you will.” He cocked his head to the side and relaxed back in his chair. “Because I’m going with you.”
Chapter Eight
Luc followed her into the Sun Valley Rest Home and was instantly assailed by the odor of astringents and decaying mankind. He understood how some people could be uncomfortable with the reminder of their own fleeting mortality. It only made him wishful. Wishful to have lived a life wherein he’d… lived . Instead of merely existing. It made him yearn to age and die in the natural order of man. As God intended, not some witch who’d started the lycan curse over a thousand years ago.
You’ve lived since Lily crashed into your world—your bed .
He shook his head and watched Lily smile and nod to both the staff and the wizened infirmed trudging down the corridors with their walkers and wheelchairs. She showed no sign of discomfort. She seemed right at home here.
“Where are we—”
“This way. She’s in the TV room.”
They entered an airy room with several well-worn sofas and armchairs. Three women played cards at a table. Another sat alone on the couch, staring vacantly at the television set.
Lily eased down beside her. Luc hung back, leaning against a bookshelf of paperbacks so old and worn that the titles on the spines could hardly be read.
“Hello,” Lily greeted the old woman on the sofa.
The woman looked startled for a moment, blinking warm brown eyes several times.
“Hello.”
Lily glanced at the television before looking back at the woman. “I like Paula Deen, too.”
The woman gave an eager nod. “She doesn’t skimp. Fried is fried. Like it should be.”
“Absolutely,” Lily agreed.
“Do you like to cook?”
“A little bit. My mother’s an excellent cook.”
The woman patted Lily’s hand. “Well, you should get her to teach you.”
Lily blinked fiercely and glanced away, the back of one hand swiping at her eyes. And in thatmoment, Luc knew that the woman with whom she was conversing wasn’t a stranger.
“She did teach me how to make a mean turtle cheesecake,” Lily offered.
“Hmm, I love turtle cheesecake.” Her brow wrinkled in concentration. “I think I might know how to make that.”
Lily gave a shaky smile. “I bet you do.”
He looked hard at the woman on the sofa, studying her face, the confused gaze, the melting brown eyes—and knew it was Lily’s mother.
In that moment, he didn’t know what was worse—being alone and not having anyone to love or having someone you loved no longer know you.
* * *
“She wasn’t always that way.”
He flexed a hand on the steering wheel and weaved through traffic. “I’m sure she wasn’t.”
“I don’t want your pity.”
He snorted. “Any pity I feel for you has nothing to do with your mother.” Only partially true. The stark sorrow, the total loneliness he had seen in Lily’s face as she’d sat on that couch, had struck a much-too-familiar chord. It echoed the way hehad felt growing up, when he’d endured the hatred of a family that
His eyes glowed. He idly traced the rim of the glass of juice before him. “The company was good, wasn’t it?”
She felt herself blush, the burn crawling all the way to the tips of her ears. She stabbed at a chunk of pineapple and replied quickly, “As you’ve said, I have a month. I won’t hurt anyone until then. I’m going home.” Popping the fruit in her mouth, she chewed. It was all bravado. She knew he could chain her downstairs again. Could seduce her with a look or crook of his finger and keep her happily in his bed. But she was hoping he wouldn’t. Hoping that whatever impulse had motivated him to free her of that dark basement still held true.
“Very well. You insist on leaving the premises. Fine.”
Relief rushed through her. Her words spilled forth in a giddy rush. “I promise I’ll come back—”
“I know you will.” He cocked his head to the side and relaxed back in his chair. “Because I’m going with you.”
Chapter Eight
Luc followed her into the Sun Valley Rest Home and was instantly assailed by the odor of astringents and decaying mankind. He understood how some people could be uncomfortable with the reminder of their own fleeting mortality. It only made him wishful. Wishful to have lived a life wherein he’d… lived . Instead of merely existing. It made him yearn to age and die in the natural order of man. As God intended, not some witch who’d started the lycan curse over a thousand years ago.
You’ve lived since Lily crashed into your world—your bed .
He shook his head and watched Lily smile and nod to both the staff and the wizened infirmed trudging down the corridors with their walkers and wheelchairs. She showed no sign of discomfort. She seemed right at home here.
“Where are we—”
“This way. She’s in the TV room.”
They entered an airy room with several well-worn sofas and armchairs. Three women played cards at a table. Another sat alone on the couch, staring vacantly at the television set.
Lily eased down beside her. Luc hung back, leaning against a bookshelf of paperbacks so old and worn that the titles on the spines could hardly be read.
“Hello,” Lily greeted the old woman on the sofa.
The woman looked startled for a moment, blinking warm brown eyes several times.
“Hello.”
Lily glanced at the television before looking back at the woman. “I like Paula Deen, too.”
The woman gave an eager nod. “She doesn’t skimp. Fried is fried. Like it should be.”
“Absolutely,” Lily agreed.
“Do you like to cook?”
“A little bit. My mother’s an excellent cook.”
The woman patted Lily’s hand. “Well, you should get her to teach you.”
Lily blinked fiercely and glanced away, the back of one hand swiping at her eyes. And in thatmoment, Luc knew that the woman with whom she was conversing wasn’t a stranger.
“She did teach me how to make a mean turtle cheesecake,” Lily offered.
“Hmm, I love turtle cheesecake.” Her brow wrinkled in concentration. “I think I might know how to make that.”
Lily gave a shaky smile. “I bet you do.”
He looked hard at the woman on the sofa, studying her face, the confused gaze, the melting brown eyes—and knew it was Lily’s mother.
In that moment, he didn’t know what was worse—being alone and not having anyone to love or having someone you loved no longer know you.
* * *
“She wasn’t always that way.”
He flexed a hand on the steering wheel and weaved through traffic. “I’m sure she wasn’t.”
“I don’t want your pity.”
He snorted. “Any pity I feel for you has nothing to do with your mother.” Only partially true. The stark sorrow, the total loneliness he had seen in Lily’s face as she’d sat on that couch, had struck a much-too-familiar chord. It echoed the way hehad felt growing up, when he’d endured the hatred of a family that
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