Waiting

4.

Lilith POV

The flash released me directly into my study.

I had barely taken form before the scream tore out of me.

“Aaahhh!”

My hand closed around the first object within reach, and I hurled it with enough force to send it exploding against the opposite wall.

The crash was spectacular.

For one brief, vicious second, it was satisfying.

Then I realized what I had thrown.

“Oh, shit.”

My favorite snow globe.

The little glass sphere had shattered into hundreds of glittering fragments, scattering across the polished floor in a spray of water, silver flecks, and broken glass. The miniature world that had once existed inside it was destroyed beyond recognition. Tiny pieces of scenery skittered beneath the furniture while water ran in shimmering trails down the wall.

I stared at the wreckage, breathing hard.

Perfect.

Absolutely f*****g perfect.

Why was I always treated this way?

Why did everything I wanted somehow end with me being humiliated, rejected, or punished?

And why—after all this time—would Arie still not be with me?

I sank into the nearest chair and pressed trembling fingers against my temples. The ache in my heart had become so familiar that sometimes I wondered whether it had simply become part of me.

I had loved Arie for longer than I cared to remember.

Long before everything became this.

Long before Lucian became the creature he was now.

Long before I learned what eternity actually meant when you were forced to spend it bound to someone who hated you.

It should have been Arie.

That thought had followed me through centuries.

If Lucian had not found me that day—if he had not been the one to save my life—perhaps fate would not have fastened me to him. Perhaps the Celestials would eventually have reconsidered. Perhaps Arie would have looked at me differently if I had been allowed enough time.

But Lucian had found me.

Lucian had saved me.

And because of one fateful moment, the Morning Star became my mate while the one I had wanted slipped permanently beyond my reach.

Now even Arie despised me.

The memory of what had just happened between us made my stomach twist.

I could still hear his voice.

Still see the contempt in his eyes.

Margarethe.

Always Margarethe.

Even after all these centuries, everything somehow returned to her.

A knock against my study door startled me from my thoughts.

I straightened quickly, wiping at my face.

“Come in.”

The door opened cautiously.

“My Lady?”

Amy peered inside, her eyes moving immediately toward the shattered remains of my snow globe.

“Is everything all right?”

Of course she had heard me scream. Half the corridor had probably heard me, followed by the unmistakable sound of something expensive being annihilated against a wall.

“Yes,” I replied flatly. “Everything is fine.”

Her gaze drifted once more toward the wreckage.

I sighed.

“Please, Amy. Clean this up.”

“Right away, my Lady.”

She entered and quietly closed the door behind her. I paid little attention as she approached the mess, but before she crouched to gather the larger shards, she hesitated.

“My Lady, if I may…”

Something in her voice made me look at her.

“What?”

“Tonight marks the first night of the Hunter’s Moon cycle.”

Every thought in my mind stopped.

Shit.

I turned toward the windows.

How had I forgotten?

The Hunter’s Moon.

The anniversary of Margarethe’s death.

Or, as Lucian preferred to call it—

Her murder.

A coldness far different from Arie’s rejection crept through me.

I could not stay here.

Whatever self-pity I had been drowning in vanished beneath something much stronger.

Fear.

Every year Lucian became particularly unbearable during this cycle. Memory transformed him into something almost gleeful in his cruelty, as though grief needed ceremony and my suffering had somehow become his preferred method of observance.

I needed to disappear before he found me.

“Thank you, Amy.” I stood quickly. “I’m going to be alone for a while.”

She glanced up.

“If the Master comes looking for me, tell him you haven’t seen me for several days.”

Understanding flashed across her face.

“Yes, my Lady.”

I did not wait for anything more.

The library was my best option.

The fortress was enormous, but Lucian knew every room, every passage, every hidden corner within it. The Master’s library, however, sprawled through several levels and contained enough forgotten chambers, concealed alcoves, and ancient passages that even he rarely bothered searching all of them.

If I could reach it before he sensed me—

I hurried through the corridor, keeping my steps light.

I had nearly reached the passage that would take me toward the library when a familiar sound drifted through the halls.

Whistling.

I stopped dead.

No.

The melody grew louder.

Closer.

Lucian.

Panic scattered every thought.

The library was too far away. My chambers were in the opposite wing, and returning to my study would leave me trapped.

There was nowhere to go.

I searched the corridor frantically.

Doors.

Statues.

Windows.

Nothing that would conceal me quickly enough.

Then I saw the drapery.

Heavy floor-to-ceiling curtains covered sections of the stone walls, their layers thick enough to hide a person between them and the shallow recesses behind.

It was ridiculous.

It was also all I had.

I hurried toward them, lifted the first heavy fold, and slipped behind it just as I heard a nearby door open.

I held my breath.

“Ah,” Lucian said pleasantly. “Is my beautiful mate in there?”

Beautiful.

The word pierced me more sharply than it should have.

Why the hell was he calling me beautiful?

He had not spoken to me with anything resembling tenderness in centuries.

From where I hid, I could not see him, but I recognized Amy’s voice immediately.

“No, my lord. She is not. I haven’t seen her for a couple of days now.”

Good girl.

“Is that so?”

The pleasantness vanished from his voice so subtly that anyone who did not know him might have missed it.

I did not.

“Tell me, Amy. What were you doing in her office?”

My stomach dropped.

He did not believe her.

“I was tending to my regular duties, my lord. I’m sorry I haven’t seen my lady, but I assure you, if I knew her whereabouts, they would be yours.”

Smart.

Quick.

Nothing defensive enough to make him suspicious.

For several agonizing seconds, Lucian said nothing.

Then he laughed softly.

“Well, I felt her presence when she arrived a little while ago.”

Fuck.

“We may not see eye to eye,” he continued, “but she still wears my mark. I know she’s here somewhere.”

My fingers curled into the curtain.

Of course.

The f*****g mate bond.

I could hide my body from him, but I could not simply erase what existed between us.

“When you see your madam,” he continued, suddenly sounding almost cheerful, “tell her I’m looking for her. I have a wonderful new toy I want us to play with.”

Every muscle in my body tightened.

“Tell her it’s called a Pear of Anguish.”

There was a pause.

“A… what, my lord?” Amy asked.

For once, I was grateful for her curiosity.

Because I was wondering the exact same f*****g thing.

“This.”

I heard the movement of what sounded like a box being opened.

“See? Shaped like a pear. Beautiful little thing, isn’t it? Only this one opens like a blossoming flower.”

His delight intensified.

“With serrated petals.”

My stomach turned.

“Exciting, don’t you think?”

Oh, Creation.

No.

Whatever he was holding, I already knew I wanted nowhere near it.

Unfortunately, Lucian had apparently decided Amy required a demonstration.

“You see, Amy, I plan to heat the metal first.”

His voice had taken on that awful quality I knew too well—bright, animated, almost boyish in its enthusiasm.

“Then I’ll insert it into her womanhood. I want the experience to be as effective as possible, so I thought perhaps I would heat it until the metal glows red first.”

He chuckled.

My hand flew to my mouth.

Bile climbed my throat.

“And since my lovely mate heals so quickly, she’ll be perfect for testing it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

No.

“I imagine she’ll stretch and tear even better than I’m hoping. Perhaps I’ll even manage to leave a scar or two somewhere special this time.”

I swallowed against the urge to vomit.

“Oh, Amy,” he continued, nearly laughing now, “I cannot wait to find her. I can already imagine the smell when I insert it—”

My knees weakened.

“—all while she’s tied to the cross.”

Fuck.

No.

Tears burned my eyes.

He sounded happy.

That was what made it worse.

Lucian was not threatening me in anger. There was no rage cracking through his words, no loss of control.

He was excited.

Practically giddy.

Like a child describing a gift he could hardly wait to unwrap.

And the gift was my suffering.

A tear escaped despite my effort to stop it, sliding silently down my cheek.

Then another.

How had this become my existence?

How had the being who once looked at me as though I were the most beautiful creature ever made become someone who celebrated the anniversary of our daughter’s death by devising new ways to torture me?

With each passing decade, Lucian found something worse.

A new punishment.

A new humiliation.

A new method of making certain I understood that he had not forgotten my so-called transgression against Margarethe.

It had been so long.

Centuries.

Why could he not let it go?

“My lord,” Amy said cautiously, “I truly don’t know where she could be. She hasn’t called for me or made her presence known in the castle.”

A pause followed.

“But…”

Her voice changed.

Lower.

Softer.

“I can see this conversation has excited you in other ways.”

My brow furrowed.

What?

What other ways?

“My lord,” she continued, “while you wait for your wife to show her cowardly face… perhaps you and I could enjoy each other’s company.”

For a moment, I genuinely thought I had misunderstood her.

Then rage flooded through me.

That f*****g slut.

Was she seriously mocking me while attempting to seduce my mate?

“I’ve completed my duties for the moment,” she continued, her voice growing bolder. “I could help you release some of that frustration another way.”

I gripped the curtain harder.

“You know she always crawls away during this time to avoid your attention.”

My vision blurred.

She wanted him.

My maid wanted my mate.

I should have stayed hidden.

Every instinct responsible for my survival told me to remain exactly where I was.

Instead, jealousy won.

I had to see.

Slowly, carefully, I separated the heavy folds of fabric until a narrow opening appeared.

Amy stood only a short distance away.

One of her hands had disappeared beneath her blouse, kneading her breast while the other rested against Lucian’s chest. Several buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing enough skin for her fingertips to trace slow circles over him.

She licked her lips.

Something hot and vicious twisted inside me.

Fear remained.

But now rage burned beside it.

Not at Lucian.

Not then.

At her.

Lucian stepped closer and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her against him. He bent his head and pressed a series of light kisses along her cheek, then her jaw, then the side of her neck.

The sight struck somewhere deep.

“Mmm, my lord,” Amy murmured. “Your heart is beating faster. Let me ease your restlessness.”

I hated her.

Creation, I hated her.

I wanted to tear open the curtain, rip her from his arms, and remind her exactly whose mate she had wrapped herself around.

But the image of the box stopped me.

The cross.

Glowing metal.

Serrated petals.

My fury could not overpower my fear of him.

So I remained hidden.

And watched.

That f*****g w***e.

He was enjoying her.

That hurt almost as much as the betrayal itself.

Lucian had not allowed me to touch him with affection in centuries. I could barely remember what it felt like to have his hands on me without fear attached to them.

Once, he had kissed me like that.

Once, he had looked at me as though nothing else in existence could compete for his attention.

Now another woman stood in my place.

Lucian lifted the front of Amy’s uniform skirt. His hand disappeared beneath the lace of her underwear, and her breathing immediately changed.

“My lord…”

Her head tipped backward.

“Please. Somewhere more private.”

She reached for the box tucked beneath his arm.

“Somewhere we can enjoy each other properly.”

She took it from him and placed it carefully on a side table.

“I promise you won’t need this for what I have planned for your body.”

“Is that so?”

Amy smiled.

“Come, my lord.”

Her arms slid around his neck.

Then she kissed him.

Lucian responded immediately, one hand tightening around her waist while the other caught the back of her head. When he lifted her, Amy wrapped her legs around him and pressed herself eagerly against his body.

She moaned.

Lucian growled his approval.

I stared at them in disbelief.

My f*****g maid was seducing my mate.

How long had this been happening?

Days?

Months?

Years?

How long had Amy been smiling at me, dressing me, tending my rooms, answering my requests while secretly waiting for opportunities to crawl into Lucian’s arms?

Traitor.

The word burned through me.

She was a f*****g traitor.

Lucian broke their kiss long enough to look at her.

And smiled.

Actually smiled.

“Ah, Amy. You are a surprising breath of fresh air.”

My heart cracked.

Why was this happening to me?

It was not merely lust.

That I might have endured.

It was the tenderness.

The praise.

The ease with which he held her.

I had not received those things from him in hundreds of years. I had begun to believe he was no longer capable of them.

Apparently, he was.

Just not with me.

Lucian turned and carried Amy down the corridor, away from my hiding place.

Toward his chambers, no doubt.

I should have remained where I was.

Instead, some pathetic part of me apparently wanted to make certain my heart was thoroughly destroyed.

I slipped from behind the curtain and crept toward the corner.

Amy still had her legs wrapped around his waist. Her mouth moved against his neck while he carried her easily through the hall.

Then her eyes lifted.

And found mine.

I froze.

Amy did not react.

She did not scream.

Did not alert him.

Instead, while continuing to kiss Lucian’s neck, she mouthed two silent words.

I’m sorry.

My anger faltered.

What?

Her fingers slid into his hair.

Then, so subtly I almost missed it, she extended one finger.

Not toward Lucian.

Toward the side table behind them.

Toward the box.

My breath caught.

Wait.

Amy lowered her hand and returned her attention to Lucian as though nothing had happened.

Understanding came slowly.

She knew I had been there.

She had known.

Perhaps not from the beginning, but at some point she had realized I was hiding behind the drapery.

And instead of exposing me—

She had distracted him.

My mind raced backward through everything she had said.

While you wait for your wife…

Why don’t you and I…

The seduction.

The box deliberately removed from beneath his arm.

Placed on the table.

Her apology.

The gesture.

Had she done all of this to make him forget about me?

To give me time?

Was Amy betraying me?

Or saving me?

I no longer knew.

“Come, my sweet,” Lucian said as they disappeared farther down the corridor. “I believe I possess precisely the tool you require for your current need.”

His laughter echoed faintly.

“And if I’m being honest, Amy, I am very much looking forward to discovering what you have planned for our time together.”

A sharp slap echoed through the hall.

Amy giggled.

Then they were gone.

I retreated behind the corner and let my back hit the wall.

My legs finally gave way.

I slid slowly to the floor.

For several minutes, I could do nothing except sit there and cry.

Lucian was still my mate.

My love.

My eternal partner.

Some pathetic fragment of me still remembered who he had once been and wanted him back so desperately that watching him carry another woman into his chambers had broken something I had believed already beyond breaking.

I wanted what Amy had just received.

His smile.

His kisses.

His undivided attention.

I wanted him to look at me again without seeing Margarethe’s blood.

But wanting it changed nothing.

Eventually, I forced myself to stand.

I waited longer.

Five minutes.

Then ten.

The corridor remained silent.

Only when I was certain Lucian was not returning did I approach the side table.

The box waited exactly where Amy had left it.

I stared at it.

Part of me wanted to leave it untouched.

Another part needed to know.

I lifted the lid.

Inside lay Lucian’s newest treasure.

The Pear of Anguish.

It was almost beautiful.

That somehow made it worse.

The device was fashioned into the shape of a pear, its body composed of individual golden leaves fitted so precisely together that their serrated edges vanished when closed. A central post ran through its middle like a screw, ending at the top in an ornate handle set with a large ruby.

Beneath the gemstone, embroidered into the gold, was a single letter.

M.

My blood went cold.

Margarethe.

Of course.

I reached inside and lifted the mechanism carefully.

It was heavier than it looked.

How did it work?

Perhaps I had misunderstood Lucian.

Perhaps the device looked more horrifying than it actually was.

Perhaps—

I turned the handle.

The internal screw descended.

One of the golden leaves moved.

Then another.

I stared.

Slowly, the serrated sections began separating from one another.

I turned the handle again.

They opened farther.

Again.

Wider.

Then—

Click.

The mechanism released.

The leaves sprang apart.

A golden lotus bloomed between my hands.

For one terrible moment, I could only stare at it.

Then Lucian’s words returned.

Heat the metal.

Insert it.

Open it.

The true purpose of the mechanism became horrifyingly clear.

My stomach lurched.

I nearly dropped it.

He had meant every word.

Lucian intended to heat the metal until it glowed and force this thing inside me before opening those serrated petals.

“No.”

The word escaped me as a whisper.

I threw the mechanism back into the box and slammed the lid shut.

No.

Absolutely f*****g not.

I tucked the box beneath my arm.

If Lucian wanted his precious new toy, he could f*****g look for it.

I fled toward the library.

By the time I reached its ancient doors, my hands were shaking badly enough that I nearly dropped the box.

I pushed inside and disappeared among the endless shelves.

For once, books offered no comfort.

Nothing did.

I could not continue this.

The thought settled with frightening calm.

It was official.

I wanted to die.

Not dramatically.

Not as another threat shouted during one of our fights.

I simply no longer possessed the will to continue an existence that stretched endlessly before me with no possibility of escape.

Eternity had become a prison.

Lucian would never release me.

The mate bond ensured that.

He could despise me, torture me, humiliate me, take other women into his bed, and still the universe would insist that I belonged to him.

I never wanted to see him again.

Never wanted to feel his presence.

Never wanted to wonder what new punishment awaited me with the turning of another moon.

There had to be something I could do.

The Celestials would never willingly allow me to die.

I knew that.

I was the last Leviathan.

The final living remnant of an entire race they had once sworn to protect.

But perhaps death was not my only option.

I stopped walking.

The Nothing.

The thought emerged quietly.

Then expanded.

The Nothing existed beyond the ordered realms, beyond the places where ordinary laws of creation held absolute authority. Few entered willingly. Fewer remained.

But Lucian would never follow me there.

More importantly—

He might not be able to find me there.

Hope, small and desperate, stirred inside me.

Yes.

The Nothing.

If I could convince even one Celestial to send me there, I could disappear.

No Lucian.

No Hunter’s Moon.

No Margarethe.

No punishment.

No eternity spent waiting for footsteps outside my door.

I tightened my grip on the box.

I needed someone powerful enough to help me.

Someone old enough to understand what Lucian had become.

Someone who might still remember that before I was his mate, before I became the object of everyone’s hatred, I had once been the last survivor of a murdered race asking the heavens for mercy.

I closed my eyes and reached outward.

Past the fortress.

Past the veil.

Past the mortal plane.

I searched for the nearest Celestial presence my soul could touch.

A familiar essence answered.

My eyes opened.

Of course.

A bitter little laugh almost escaped me.

Perhaps fate had finally decided to be useful.

I clutched Lucian’s box against my ribs and surrendered myself to the pull.

The library disappeared.

Light tore around me.

And I spoke his name.

“Orion.”