Chapter 3 A Growl Beneath the Skin
Lyssara Velmora:
I stepped under the shower. As soon as I turned on the water jet, my skin burned. Even the steam from the hot water bothered me extremely. Ravenmoor was freezing almost all year round; taking a cold shower required courage. Especially feeling feverish. But I preferred it. It was enough to bring me back to normal.
Or as close to that as I'd managed in recent days.
"I brought pizza!"
Lucien entered the apartment a little over an hour later. My long hair was still wet, yet sweats were starting to bother me again. I didn't put on the clothes I had there. I used one of his training shirts, with cut-off, scooped sleeves that left the sides of my breasts exposed.
I was also wearing one of his boxers, loose on me, because the mere idea of lace panties rubbing against my skin was bad enough.
Something was wrong with me. Lucien noticed, as he turned all his attention to me, sprawled on his sofa, staring at me from head to toe.
Unlike the zoned apartment, and as much as he had worked for hours, the smell of his skin was familiar and comforting.
I watched him sit down in the middle of the gigantic sofa and place my feet on his lap. His sandy-blond hair contrasted with my deep brown, almost black hair. As did our skin: he, the epitome of the European; me and my Egyptian descent.
"You look like shit," he threw out, without any care, his habitual behavior.
I liked his sharp honesty.
"Thank you, darling," I tried to sound grumpy, as I always did when he was rude to me. But at that moment, I felt relief.
Relief that he was there, that he was exactly as he was.
Everything was shit.
I stretched to relieve the tension in my muscles. Medicines never worked for me. At least I could be thankful I never got sick and needed them.
"Are you trying to seduce me?" Lucien mocked, but his face seemed more curious than ever. He looked at me furtively with his hazel eyes as he reached for the television remote next to me on the sofa seat.
"I don't know if I'm capable of seducing anyone today, Lucien," I retorted with a sharp humor.
"Of course you are. Even unintentionally, Lyssara."
Not every time I slept at his place was for the "benefits." Most of the time, it was just the "friends" part. Today, however, the level of neediness was off the charts. I had an itch under my skin. Maybe an orgasm would set things right.
"Dude, if I tell you about my day, you're going to laugh your ass off at me." Lucien turned on the television and lowered the volume, leaving the MMA fight playing in the background.
"Tell me." He leaned back on the sofa, locking his gaze on mine, too attentive.
I took an extra second studying his expression... Maybe the "benefits" were, for Lucien, more than they should be. With us, it was more or less like this: some days, he would win me over; others, we'd go back to being just friends. My attraction to him fluctuated. Most of the time, it didn't come.
But today I wanted to be won over.
"I was late for class and forgot my assignment! The professor is going to take fifty percent off my grade. All because of that bitch Talia, who decided to start smoking weed. Today! Starting today! I lost a bunch of time because the smoke detector went off, the floor monitor came to fine me. And guess what? That asshole Talia asked me to pay it because she blew through the allowance her mommy and daddy sent this month. And, as you saw, I spilled coffee on my computer," I babbled, to make him forget, to erase that bad impression. "I still haven't had the courage to open it to see if it's working right. I've been sweating cold all day, but it's not a fever, I think. I've never had a fever to know if this is what it's like..."
My hysterical, tense laughter wouldn't fool anyone. Especially Lucien, who knew me inside out. But he pretended to buy it. He shook his head negatively and smiled, listening to my tale of defeats.
"Your roommate knows she can't smoke cigarettes inside the dorm, but she decided to smoke weed?" We laughed together, tense. Everything was wrong. "Are you hungry?"
I said no. I just wanted to talk to him and convince myself that everything was fine with me. I wanted to end this absurd day.
"There's beer in the fridge, want one? You look like you need it."
I nodded, sitting up on the sofa, crossing my legs, feet under my thighs, and twisting my hair into a knot. "You know I can see your chest through the tear in the sleeve, right?"
"Oh, that's the intention." I blinked exaggeratedly at him. "And, in the end, there's not much to see around here anyway." I held my breasts with my hands over the shirt, squeezing them together, and made a pout with my mouth.
"No one's complaining, Lyssara, no one!" he said louder from the kitchen as I heard him moving the little bottles around in the freezer.
The intimacy we shared was a mutual comfort. With Lucien, I didn't need to be in a relationship. I didn't need feelings greater than the ones I had. Friends. No jealousy, no demands, no obligations. He, sometimes, was my brother, sometimes my lover...
Always present. Maybe it wasn't enough for him, but Lucien never said anything. It was comfortable for me as long as he didn't say otherwise.
On his way back from the kitchen, Lucien hissed:
"Don't change the channel, Lyssara! I want to see blood!"
Oh, that magnificent smile... he was undeniably handsome and, perhaps, could take care of the seduction himself.
After a few beers, the little bottles piled up in great numbers, placed on the floor next to the sofa. We had no idea who had drunk what. I no longer thought about the earlier events. I was enveloped by the security I needed to feel.
"I think I'm going to sleep," I stated, tired. Numb enough to fall into a peaceful sleep.
"No..." he hummed, watching me with mischief as he turned his body toward me.
His gaze betrayed his intention. He trapped me in place as he slowly came toward me.
My libido finally made an appearance.
I opened a half-smile, agreeing in silence. Lucien grabbed my legs, uncrossing them and stretching me out on the sofa. His eyes traveled down from mine to the boxers I was wearing.
His rough hand went up the side of my thigh to my waist, under the shirt. This was our cue. If he took off my clothes, we would set friendship aside.
I raised my arms. He smiled, almost childishly.
However, his hazel-colored irises transformed into the yellow ones of the mysterious guy. I wasn't scared by the illusion. The furrowed brows and dense beard weren't Lucien's, but that stranger's from Dawson's.
It was enough to leave me completely aroused.
The night was already half over, warm and clear, illuminated by the crescent moon, almost full. I fell off of him, lying down beside him on the bed. We were sweaty and panting, exhausted.
I closed my eyes and didn't even bother to cover myself, still uncommonly warm.
I lay on my stomach. My hair spread across the pillow, my breathing regulating toward sleepiness. I could barely open my eyes, practically being lulled into unconsciousness by his calloused fingers on my back.
I could sleep peacefully. Everything was peaceful, next to my center of balance.
