My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues #2)
Page 32He stilled, his fingers moving to trail over her cheek and down the length of jaw. Jocelyn could not halt the tiny shiver of response to his light caress.
"And my kisses?" he prodded.
Jocelyn forced herself to pretend to consider his words. "They are bearable, I suppose."
"Bearable?"
With a low growl he slowly bent his head to touch his lips softly to her own. Jocelyn readily arched toward him. It was not a kiss of passion or physical need. Instead, it was a tender reassurance that they had survived the nightmare and managed to escape with their lives intact.
For moments they clung to each other, drawing strength from the warm emotions that bonded them together.
Then with obvious reluctance Lucien at last pulled back to carefully tuck a stray curl behind her ear.
"Well?"
"Mmm. Perhaps they are wondrous."
"That is considerably better." His smile faded as he drew in a deep breath. "Ah, Jocelyn. I feared that you would never forgive me."
Her gaze dropped as she recalled her horror at discovering the truth that he was a vampire. It was not, after all, every day that a maiden discovered the gentleman she had tumbled into love with was not human, she acknowledged wryly.
And, of course, there had been the fear that she had been played the fool once again. Echoes of the betrayal she had felt at the hands of Lord Patten had made her lash out with an instinctive need to protect herself from further pain.
But Lucien had nothing in common with the shallow, absurdly idiotic Lord Patten.
He had not been attempting to use her for his own pleasure. He did not consider her a mere object that was to be gained and then tossed aside when he grew weary of her.
He had wanted only to protect her.
And to bring a smile to her face.
Realizing that he was regarding her with a growingly concerned expression, she offered him a smile.
"I will admit that I was rather shocked to discover that you were not a simple rogue but a vampire in disguise."
His expression cleared at her light tone, his brows wiggling in a ridiculous fashion.
"I prefer a roguish vampire."
"Indeed," she said dryly.
"I believe you were the thief," she promptly corrected him. "I was quite content with my quiet, uneventful life."
"Perhaps content, but not happy," he murmured.
"No. Not happy."
"And now?"
Jocelyn paused. Wrapped snuggly in his arms, she felt warm and safe and utterly content.
She loved this gentleman. And more than anything in the world, she wanted to know he would be at her side for the rest of her life.
But even as she wanted to weep for joy at the thought that he loved her, there was that annoyingly sensible part of her that forced her to recall that it was not so simple.
This was not the usual sort of flirtation. And Lu-cien was not another London gentleman.
For goodness' sake, he was not even mortal.
There were any number of difficulties that had to be confronted.
"I do not know," she said slowly.
He furrowed his brow as he shifted, better to view her pale countenance. His movements were still awkward, and he could not entirely prevent his wince of pain. Jocelyn's heart cringed at the savage attack she knew he must have endured.
"What is it, Jocelyn?"
"I—" She came to a helpless halt, uncertain how to put her vague concern into words.
"Jocelyn?"
"Amadeus is now dead," she at last blurted out.
His confusion only deepened. "Thank goodness."
"I am no longer in danger," she continued in brittle tones. "There is nothing now to keep you in London."
"Ah." His brow cleared as he realized the direction of her fears. "You are not attempting to get rid of me, are you, my sweet?"
"Will you return to the Veil?" she abruptly demanded.
His hands moved to tenderly cup her face. "No."
"This is where I belong," he interrupted in husky tones. "At your side."
She searched the handsome, elegant countenance that had become so dear to her. She was uncertain that she could bear the thought of him walking away and never returning. It would be as if she were losing a part of herself.
And yet, was it fair to ask him to leave his home and his people to be with her? How much would he be forced to sacrifice for their love?
"Is it allowed?" she hesitantly demanded.
He smiled deep into her eyes. "I will demand that it be allowed."
"Does that mean you will become a mortal like me?"
His low chuckle suddenly echoed through the dusty room, banishing at least a few of the heavy shadows.
"I fear not. I shall always be a vampire. There is no cure." He eyed her closely. "Does that trouble you?"
It should have. It seemed utterly mad even to believe in vampires, let alone to consider offering him her heart.
But as she gazed into those glorious golden eyes, she could see only the gentleman who had teased her to laughter, who had broken through her painful shell of isolation, and who had taught her that the past need not destroy her future.
The gentleman she loved.
"Not as long as it does not trouble you that I am a mere human," she murmured with a faint smile.
"A very lovely and desirable human," he corrected her, his hands sweeping down her neck and moving over her tense shoulders.
She shivered in pleasure, but even as she considered the audacious notion of leaning forward and tasting the sweetness of his lips, she was halted by a sudden thought.
Lucien was a vampire. An Immortal, he had called himself. Eventually she would grow old and die, while he remained precisely the same.
The thought made her heart grow cold.
"But not forever, Lucien," she said with a frown. "I am not an Immortal as you are. I will soon begin to age."
His countenance became a stern mask at her faltering words. "It does not matter, my sweet. I will love you regardless of your age."
"Are you certain?"
"Jocelyn." The golden eyes blazed in the gloom. "A vampire bonds but once. And for all eternity. What I feel for you today I will feel for all the ages."
He had no doubt intended to comfort her with his stark revelation. To ensure that she would never doubt his commitment to her. But instead, her eyes widened with distress.
If he bonded himself to her, then he would spend an eternity grieving for her loss. It was unthinkable.
"No, Lucien." Pulling from his grasp, she regarded him with a stubborn expression. She would rather lose him than ask him to sacrifice himself in such a fashion. At least her pain would come to an end someday. "You cannot do this."
His brows lifted at her fierce tone. "What?"
"I will not allow you to love me when I shall be with you for such a short time. It is not fair to you."
There was a moment of startled silence before Lucien tilted back his head to laugh with rich amusement.
"You will not allow me to love you?" he teased. "It is far too late for such a warning, my sweet."
Jocelyn gave a shake of her head, wishing that he would for once not regard the world as a joke. This was a very serious matter.
"But I will soon die and—"
Her words were interrupted as the door to the castle was shoved open and an old woman attired as a gypsy stepped into the shadows.
"Do not be so certain what the future might hold, Jocelyn," she warned with a gentle smile.
"It has yet to be written."
Utterly startled by the unexpected appearance of the old woman, Lucien struggled to gain his feet, only to discover he was far too weak.
"Nefri," he breathed.
"Lucien, do not move," the great vampire commanded, her numerous bracelets clicking in the musty air as she moved to retrieve the Medallion that had been nearly forgotten on the flagstones. Holding out the amulet, she moved to where Lucien was leaning heavily against the wall and gently pressed it to his cheek.
At first Lucien felt no more than a gentle warmth flood through his body at the touch of the powerful artifact. Then the soothing sense of peace became a fiery flood as his numerous wounds began to knit together and his damaged muscles healed. He gritted his teeth, feeling as if he had been shoved roughly into a furnace that burned from within.
At last he gave a shake of his head. "That is enough."
Nefri pulled the Medallion away, her wrinkled countenance filled with concern.
"You are healed?"
Lucien gingerly tested his arms and legs, discovering that the most grievous of his wounds had indeed been mended.
"I believe so."