lucien-lord

“He loved Anya. Lucien admitted that now. Knew it with a soul-deep intensity that could not be denied any longer. He loved her. He hadn’t been able to kill her, and he could not abide the thought of her being bound to Cronus, the god king able to find her at every turn. Nor could he abide the thought of her being weak and powerless. Not when she had come to mean more to him than his own life.

She enjoyed stealing, often lied, could kill without remorse, had a bounty on her head, could not make love, and yet he cherished her more than he’d ever cherished Mariah. He hadn’t thought such a thing possible. But Anya was the other half of him, the better half. She made him feel whole, complete, like a man rather than a demon. An attractive man, no less. 

She gave him something to live for, wiped away his pain, his past, and - when she kissed him - his insecurities. Her sense of humor delighted him, her actions intrigued him. Merely being in her presence gave him more pleasure than sleeping with another woman ever had.”

“Would you like me to grovel with gratitude for bringing me here, High Lord?”

“Ah. The Suriel told you nothing important, did it?”

That smile of his sparked something bold in my chest. “He also said that you liked being brushed, and if I’m a clever girl, I might train you with treats.”

Tamlin tipped his head to the sky and roared with laughter. Despite myself, I let out a quiet laugh.

“I might die of surprise,” Lucien said behind me. “You made a joke, Feyre.”

I turned to look at him with a cool smile. “You don’t want to know what the Suriel said about you.” I flicked my brows up, and Lucien lifted his hands in defeat.

“I’d pay good money to hear what the Suriel thinks of Lucien,” Tamlin said.

A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle’s contents and chuckling with a muttered, “Brushed.”

—  Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses