Seconds ticked by, and Lucian didn't move.
"Lucian," I whispered, and reached out, gently pushing his hair back from his clammy forehead. I laid my hand against his neck.
He had a pulse, and the relief of that nearly bowled me over.
Of course, of course I'd have known if he was dead — the bond would have snapped, and possibly taken me out in the backlash. But it took me a minute to remember that, and to start to think clearly.
And see clearly.
At that moment, I saw Lucian in a way I'd never seen him before.
He was always wary, often scowling, constantly primed for action.
Now he was more vulnerable than I could have imagined him: the thin skin around his eyes shadowed purple from exhaustion, the stubble on his cheeks and chin dark and rough against his waxy skin, his lips parted a little, mouth slack.
I wanted to stroke his forehead again.
I wanted to cradle his head in my lap and cry. I wanted him to wake up and hug me and tell me it was all right, that I was safe, that I was more than a walking, talking liability that no one trusted.
Like that had worked out so well with his cousin.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Fuck. What was I going to do?
I'd nearly killed him by having a panic attack. What would happen the next time we got into it? He'd probably clamp down on my magic so fast
it'd make my head spin, and then I could either fight it — and risk this happening again — or not, and be his prisoner, essentially, as much as I'd been my father's.
I couldn't. I couldn't go through that again.
As I crouched there, going around and around, Lucian's eyelids fluttered and he made a low, incoherent sound.
"Lucian? Lucian, are you awake? Can you hear me?" I sounded high-pitched and fluttery, and I would have been embarrassed as hell if I wasn't so relieved to see him coming out of it.
His pale eyes were glazed and unfocused as he blinked up at the sky.
At last he turned his head a little and fixed them on me, and I could tell when he really saw what he was looking at. His jaw tightened and his eyes went cold.
"What. The fuck. Was that?" He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing hard. "Why haven't you finished me off?"
"Finished you...?" It took a second, and then it hit me.
I dropped down on my ass, the ground cold and damp and unforgiving. "Finished you off? Lucian, I wasn't — fuck, I wasn't trying to kill you. You know that. You have to know that!"
Lucian levered himself up with a grunt, supporting himself on his hands. "Do I?"
I met his eyes, trying to show I was sincere, letting every bit of misery and guilt and fear show in my face, since at this point I was too fucking drained and sick and tired to hide it anyway.
"I lost control. I didn't mean to. I was just..." I dropped my head into my hands, unable to look at him anymore.
There wasn't a trace of forgiveness or kindness in his pressed-together lips or his furrowed brows, only judgment and mistrust. "I just wanted," I sucked in a shuddering breath of freezing-cold air, my chest heaving, and tried not to let it out as a sob. "I just wanted — a cup — of coffee."
There was a long, fraught silence, broken only by my panting breaths echoing behind my hands.
The earthy musk of damp tree bark and rain and rotting leaves surrounded me, and a few small drops began to patter down on the back of my neck and into my hair.
I'd been trying to ignore the bond as much as I could, but now I could feel that, too, strengthened by the magic that had flowed through it and pulsing with something I couldn't understand.
The bond wanted something from me. I didn't know what, and I didn't want to know. All I wanted was to lie down right there and curl in a ball and sink into the dirt.
A big hand landed on my shoulder, and I jumped in shock.
"Landon, get up," Lucian said quietly. "Can't," I whispered.
"I'll help you." His hand slid down to grip my upper arm, impossibly warm and strong, and the other hand landed on the other side of me. Lucian pulled me up, seemingly with no effort at all, until I stood swaying before him, my hands still pressed to my face.
"Come on. I'll make your coffee. And then we're going to talk," he finished grimly.
"As long as there's coffee," I muttered. And then the discharge of too much magic too soon after the last time caught up with me, and I fell over, landing against Lucian's chest.
"Jesus, Landon, not again," was the last thing I heard before I passed out.