I woke up in Lucian's bed.
Déjà vu all over again.
I had a blanket over me, and the scent of fresh coffee filled the air. I didn't care. I hadn't even been this drained when I showed up half dead the day before.
Lucian was sitting on the couch with a mug cradled in his hands, glaring at me. Shocker.
"How're you feeling?" More genuinely surprising, he actually sounded like he cared about the answer.
It took me a second to make my vocal cords work. "Okay."
"Right. Okay. I'm okay too, by the way. Thanks."
The sarcasm was strong with that one. Maybe I was rubbing off on him. And yeah, that gave me images in my head I didn't need.
I blinked up at the ceiling, idly watching an old spiderweb flutter in the draft from the poorly sealed window.
"Landon?"
That web must have been there for years to have that much dust on it.
"Landon, what the hell?"
Good question. I had no idea.
The creak of the couch's ancient springs followed by Lucian's heavy footsteps told me he was coming over to the bed, but then — nothing happened.
I stared up. Lucian muttered something I didn't catch and leaned in until his face filled my vision, blotting out the spiderweb.
Up close he didn't look so great: a little pale still, the lines around his eyes and mouth deeper than usual.
"Be careful, your face could freeze like that," I mumbled.
It was reflex; I didn't even mean it.
It wasn't his fault he looked like shit, it was mine.
Something flashed through his eyes, and it looked enough like pain that I slid my gaze away to stare at the window, since that couldn't make me feel guilty.
"Would it kill you to just —" He broke off with a heavy sigh and dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed beside me, his hip nudging mine. "Seriously. What have I ever done to you?"
He sounded so honestly confused, like he really didn't know, and that pissed me off enough to get through some of the fog I seemed to be swimming in.
Not enough to get me to answer, even though I could think of a few things, like treating me like a leper while I dated his cousin, or accusing me of trying to kill him, or assuming I was a lying scheming bastard, or maybe agreeing to mate-bond with me when he couldn't stand the sight of me.
I hated the thought of trying to win him over, or change his mind about me.
Fuck anyone who judged me, I always said. Let them.
I mean, I was a flamboyantly gay warlock with a criminal father, and I ordered appletinis in biker bars.
I got judged a lot more than I could afford to care about, and justifying myself for the way I was, or for my father, or for anything else I couldn't really control or shouldn't have to? It got fucking old.
So Lucian had some ideas about me, and pretty much the only way I could fix that would be to tell him the most humiliating and intimate details of how my father and Lucian's cousin had both used me, in their own special ways, without giving a fuck about me.
He wouldn't believe me about Jared.
And he probably wouldn't believe me about my father, either.
I mean, it looked like I'd been up to my neck in my father's fucked-up business. It would only be my word against years of appearances, and Lucian had made it super clear he didn't think my word was worth anything at all.
"Landon? You in there?"
He mostly sounded tired, but there was an edge of impatience that rubbed me the wrong way. He couldn't hang out for three minutes while I thought it through?
To be fair, I didn't usually think anything through before I started talking.
This weird fatigue that had a hold of me was really putting a crimp in my usual style.
I took an extra second to moisten my lips and let the words come. Since I couldn't tell him the truth, I'd settle for telling him the most basic facts.
"I had a panic attack. I wasn't trying to kill you. Or even hurt you. But you can't suppress my magic. Just — don't."
"Okay," Lucian said after a pause. "Okay. If this were the other way around and you could take over my shift, I wouldn't be happy about it. Actually, that's an understatement. I'd go fucking crazy. If it looks like you're gonna hurt Jace, though, all bets are off."
I managed to nod.
That was more understanding than I'd expected, honestly, although my little flash of disappointment was pathetic. What had I been hoping for?
An apology for the way he'd threatened me? An acknowledgement that he didn't need to keep that ace in the hole in case I betrayed his pack? Right.
This was Lucian, after all.
After a minute, Lucian got up and wandered away, and I closed my eyes. I could go to sleep. That would be fine.
I wasn't sure I could move.
I heard a soft clunk, and the splash and gurgle of liquid into a cup.
The fridge opened and then closed again. Lucian was getting himself more coffee, and I was just lying here. I squeezed my eyelids as tightly shut as I could against the stinging of tears.
What was wrong with me?
The bed dipped again, and Lucian's warmth seeped into my side. He'd sat down closer this time, right against my waist. "Don't you want your coffee?"
"My coffee?" I turned my head a little and looked, and there was Lucian, holding a cup. A fresh cup, with steam curling gently out of it. "That's for me?"
Lucian shrugged. "I made it for you. But then you didn't wake up, so I started drinking it myself."
"Oh." I let that sink in. "Thanks," I said, without anything resembling enthusiasm.
He stood so suddenly that the cup's scalding-hot contents sloshed over his hand, dripping down onto the floor.
It had to hurt, but he didn't even blink, just set the cup on the floor by the bed with a thump.
"Next time I won't bother," he said curtly, his back to me so I couldn't see his face. He strode across the room and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
The shower turned on. I stared up at the ceiling and finally let the tears roll down.
They pooled in my ears. I didn't care enough to move.