Confess (Sin City Salvation 1)

I waited up for him. I’d made him a late snack of fresh berries, just in case he was hungry. I’d showered and dressed in a silky nightgown for him, hoping that I could offer to relieve some of his tension. And then I curled up on the couch and waited.

He didn’t come home at eleven.

He didn’t come home at twelve.

And when I woke up and checked the time again, it was almost one a.m. and still no Lucian.

My airways felt like they’d sealed shut as I texted him and stared at the screen, waiting for a reply. It didn’t come, so I called him. Three times. And all three times, his phone went to voicemail.

I paced the length of the room while I texted Ace, whom Lucian had made me add to my contacts, just in case. Ace texted me back, unconcerned, telling me that Lucian always went a little crazy before a trial. But in my gut, I knew that wasn’t it. Lucian should have been home by now, and if he wasn’t, there was something wrong.

I grabbed a long coat from the closet and tied it around myself, concealing my nightgown as I snagged my car keys from the hall table. I drove to Lucian’s office, but his car wasn’t in the lot.

I tried dialing him again, but the phone went straight to voicemail. There were only so many places he could be at this late hour, and I knew from experience the church would be locked. But there was still a possibility he might be visiting with Cristian, so I drove there anyway. His car wasn’t there either. And that left only one other place I could check. It was my last resort.

I drove to the club with white knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel. Lucian should have no reason to be there. That was what I kept telling myself as I blasted music with the window down to keep myself from thinking too much. But when I pulled into the lot, I recognized the Dodge Demon with Nevada plates right away. And when I swallowed, it felt like a handful of nails had lodged in my esophagus.

Why was he here?

That was the only question I had because I already knew what he’d be doing. There was only one reason for him to come here, but I didn’t know why. The why was what haunted me as I got out of the car and walked to the door, entering the same pin code I’d witnessed Lucian enter before.

Inside, I was stopped in the foyer, at the ready with an explanation, but the guys at the door were the same ones I’d seen before, and they recognized me immediately.

With a brisk pat down and a nod, I was granted entry into the house, and a part of me almost regretted it. I didn’t want to see what waited for me upstairs, but my feet drew me there regardless.

Up, and up, and up, I climbed until I reached that secret room that Lucian had first taken me. I took a deep breath and braced myself as I entered, uncertain how bad it was going to be. But nothing could have prepared me for what I found next.

Lucian was there, but he was alone. Sitting in a chair, staring into the distance at the empty table that was often used to secure his previous pain toys.

“Lucian?”

He looked back at me when I said his name, and I saw something so dead in his eyes, it scared me. This wasn’t the Lucian that I knew. This man was empty. This man was cold. And this man had lost all his warmth for me when he spoke. “What are you doing here?”

It sounded like an accusation, and it made me angry. “No, the question is, what the hell are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer, so I moved forward, demanding answers. “Thinking of your pain sluts,” I snarled. “Is that it?”

He blinked, and for a second, I thought he’d come back to me. “No, I was thinking of you.”

Regardless of my anger and confusion, my stupid heart filled with hope. “What are you doing here, Lucian? I’ve been waiting for you at home.”

He turned into me and dragged me against him without warning, his fingers unfastening the knot around my waist before he slipped my coat off. I was in nothing more than a nightgown, and my nipples were already hard for him.

Maybe it was primal, or maybe it was jealousy, but I wanted him, and he knew it. He knew it when he dragged his fingers down over the material around my chest and tucked it under my breasts, exposing me to him.

Part of me wanted to tell him no. I wanted to demand an explanation, but in the end, I could see it wasn’t necessary. His eyes told me what he wanted. They told me what he needed.