Page 62 of Irrevocably

I want to pull her close, cover that pretty, lush mouth with mine. Tear away the blanket, push her down onto the floor and fuck us both into unconsciousness. Forget everything just for one night, and maybe even for more, but I can’t.

Enzo is waiting, and so is my freedom, and I can’t give that up. Not even for her.

I open my mouth to tell her that it’s over, but before I can, she whispers, “No, don’t say it. Please.”

So, I don’t. Instead, I bend my head and brush my mouth over hers in one last kiss, soft this time, gentle, and I want more than anything to kiss her deeper, harder, but the answer to her question is yes, this is goodbye.

I lift my head, force myself to release her, then I step back. “Get dressed, Tinkerbell,” I say, my voice carefully expressionless. “Your friend is waiting for you.”

Chapter Thirty-One

ASTRID

Lucien turns, grabs his T-shirt and hoodie and vanishes through the doors to the kitchen without a word, leaving me standing by the fire getting colder and colder. There’s an ache in my heart, a kind of grief, which I don’t understand, because why should I feel grief about the loss of something I never had in the first place?

We had sex and it blew my mind, but it’s over now. Like he said, we have different responsibilities, and while his are very different from mine, it’s obvious they’re not ones he can set aside easily. Also, seriously, the college girl and the killer? How would anything between us even work? Then there’s the whole thing with the MC and Dad, and whoever Lucien is working for. We’re on completely different sides of that little scenario, however it plays out.

Yet no matter how I rationalise it, I can’t get rid of that throb inside me, that ache. I know I don’t know him, that I have no idea of who he is, not really, but he sees me in a way no one else ever has. He sees the dark pieces of me, the fucked-up pieces, the pieces that no one knows about except him, and he doesn’t flinch from them. He accepts them. No, more than that, he likes them.

He’s the first person I’ve ever told about my mother and how difficult things are between Dad and me. The first person who saw my knife and my cuts and didn’t grab the knife from me. Didn’t offer to fix them for me. No, instead, he offered to give me the pain I need as if it was no big deal.

I don’t know how I can give that up, yet I have no choice. Time will move on, no matter how badly I wish it didn’t, and this night is going to end at some point. And I can’t leave Wolf in the shed all night.

Lucien is letting me free him and I know he didn’t want to do it, but he’s going to, and it feels like a goodbye gift. Like that kiss he just gave me.

I touch my mouth, the warmth of his lips lingering, and I want to capture that warmth, keep it forever, but it’s already fading.

I can’t stand here forever wanting things I can’t have and wishing things were different, so I grit my teeth, push the ache in my heart away, and turn for my clothes.

Dressing quickly, I’m just putting on my shoes, when Lucien strides into the room again. He’s fully dressed, too, all his beautiful tattoos hidden away, the regret I saw in his eyes as he kissed me gone completely. His expression is the same flinty one it always is, his eyes chips of deep blue ice.

“Here,” he says, holding out a key. “It’s for the padlock that locks the shed door.”

“Okay.” I take it from him.

“Come on, I’ll show you where I’ve stored him.” He turns to the doorway without waiting for me to respond, and I follow him out into the dark, chill night.

My breath clouds the air as I walk behind him around the side of the cabin. Ahead, strangely, is a wide, overgrown lawn. The moonlight touches the tips of the grass with silver, and despite the cold, wildflowers bleached white by the same light bloom like stars.

It’s so pretty that for a moment I stop, brushing my fingers over the grass, feeling the dew against my skin. Ahead of me, Lucien stops, too, and turns, obviously realising I’m not following him anymore. He raises a brow in silent question.

“Your safe house has a meadow,” I say softly. “It’s pretty.”

He stares at me as if I’ve said something puzzling, then slowly comes toward me before stopping in front of me. The colour of his eyes is lost in the dark, his face all silver planes and inky shadows. “There’s no time for this,” he says, correctly interpreting the real reason I’ve stopped, which is to delay the moment where we say goodbye.

“I know,” I say. “But surely we can have just one more minute?”

He says nothing for a long moment, then much to my surprise, he sits down in the grass like the graceful tiger he is. “Sit,” he says. “I’ll show you something.”

The grass is wet, but I don’t care as I sit down. Then he lies on his back, and I do the same, putting my head near his.

“Look,” he says and points one tattooed finger into the sky. “That’s the constellation Scorpius.”

I follow the line of his finger up into the night, where the stars are glittering, all clean, bright edges, and it takes me a minute, with a couple of gentle nudges from him, to see the constellation he’s talking about. “Oh,” I breathe. “Yes, I can see that.”

“And see that red dot? That’s Antares. It’s one of the biggest stars you can see with the naked eye.”

I stare up at the red speck in the middle of all that black, a stillness settling inside me. “I see it.”