Blackbird (Redemption 1)

He smiled warmly. “I’ll go over everything on the way, but I need you to get ready. We need to leave soon.”

My eyes widened when his words finally registered, when everything finally clicked. “Wait . . . leave. We’re leaving the house?”

“That’s usually what happens when you go visit someone,” he said dryly, but winked at me.

“Lucas, I haven’t been outside in months.” I couldn’t contain the smile that spread across my face, and I hurried to scramble out from underneath him. I had only run a few feet toward my room before I turned back around and launched myself at him.

He stumbled back a step but still caught me in his arms. His head dipped and lips brushed against my neck for a second before he nipped at the soft skin there. “That will not be allowed there, but, by all means, greet me this way every day.”

I giggled and pushed away from him, and as soon as my feet were on the floor again, I was running to my large closet to find something to wear.

I was so giddy that my entire body was practically vibrating with excitement.

Outside . . . I was going outside. I was going to breathe fresh air for the first time in months.

I still didn’t know days as they passed by. And while some passed quickly where others felt like weeks, I knew it was sometime in early July from an e-mail Lucas had received a week or so ago.

I’d wanted a specific recipe and, as he often did for me, Lucas had e-mailed William’s women. He normally wrote the recipes out, but that particular morning he’d been called in for a meeting and had just printed off the e-mail instead. It had been dated July 1st—exactly two months after I had been taken.

I had held the paper in my hand for nearly an hour just staring at the date, an all too familiar ache flaring in my chest as I did. And as that date and the rest of the words on the paper blurred, I knew why Lucas never wanted me to focus on what day it was, or how long I had been gone.

Because it hurt too much. Because then I was sucked right back into that pain and grief. Because then the progress Lucas and I had made—the progress he now so patiently waited for, but so obviously craved—seemed to vanish.

But for the first time, my tears hadn’t fallen as I’d mourned Kyle and my life in Atlanta. My eyes had burned and my vision had blurred, but the tears had dried before they could fall. And I’d been left with nothing more than a hollow ache in my chest and memories that transformed into comparisons and denials.

Meaningless denials, because there was no denying what my heart and my mind now screamed.

I had tried . . . God, I’d tried to keep my distance from Lucas after that night with him. I’d tried to build up my hate again. I’d forced myself to think of Kyle constantly. I’d told myself repeatedly that what had happened and what I’d felt had been nothing more than a product of some sick, twisted savior complex from when he’d saved me from William.

I had told myself so many things . . .

But Lucas had stolen a piece of my heart a day at a time before I’d willingly handed over the rest. It was dangerous and stupid to do, I knew that, but I was helpless to keep it from him because I was already gone to him.

Wholly, irrefutably his. Our pasts and future and his darkness be damned.

My devil, who constantly fought against the darkness he was so wrapped up in, was still incredibly affectionate, considering he wasn’t supposed to be.

He had gone back to working at the office a couple weeks ago, and while it made my days different, lonelier, I was glad for the distance. I’d wondered if constantly being in a house with Lucas was the cause behind my shift in my affection toward him—even if we did spend time apart—but had gotten my answer that first night he’d come back to the house.

I could still vividly remember the way my heart had taken off, trying to burst from my chest when those dark, dark eyes had sought and found me. In that moment, it’d felt like I was looking at what I’d been missing for months . . . home.

The only thing that had kept me where I’d stood in the kitchen when all I’d wanted was to run into his arms, was the devastating realization that I’d never had that feeling looking into Kyle’s eyes.

Since that night, there had been a change between Lucas and me. A slow burn that was known, but not acknowledged, and with each passing day we’d gotten closer to giving in.

And now we had to play a role for William.

Once dressed, I finished curling my hair that we had re-dyed recently, sprayed myself with the perfume that Lucas had bought me a few days before, and checked my outfit in the full-length mirror one last time.

I was in a pair of torn skinny jeans with a black silk tank and white blazer, and one of my favorite things my shopper had bought: a pair of leopard-print satin, pointed-toe Louboutin stilettos that put me at the perfect height for Lucas to brush his mouth across my forehead.

As far as Lucas was concerned, I still maintained they were just clothes, but my closet did make for fun days as I put outfits together, and waited to see what Lucas did and didn’t like.

He liked me in these shoes, as I had found out when I’d been breaking them in weeks ago.

When I was satisfied with the way I looked, I turned to leave and froze when I found Lucas standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, with a heated look as his eyes devoured every inch of my body.

My breathing deepened from the warmth of his stare, and I wanted to bask in the desire that swirled inside me.