Bound by Legend: A Bound Novel (13 page)

“Good to know.” Lucian turned and walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a couple of bags and said, “Have a seat.”

Morgan glanced at the chair then moved to help instead of sitting down. Two of the bags, laid flat like they held trays, teetered. She reached to grab them, her hands brushing his as she did so. Her skin burned where it touched his and she fumbled the two containers, nearly dropping them before recovering and setting them on the glossy wood of the tabletop. Unsettled, her eyes flashed to his and the heat she saw in his eyes mirrored that spreading through her body.

They stood for a moment, their gazes locked. A storm of unfamiliar emotions raged through Morgan. She didn’t know him, had never seen him before that day at the tower and yet there was something between them. Her soul wanted him. Not in a long-lost-lover kind of way, more of a found-at-last way. It sounded cheesy and scared the hell out of her at the same time.

Lucian averted his eyes. Morgan looked quickly away and continued to help. They both carefully avoided touching, creating an odd sort of dance as they moved around each other.

“Isobel said you liked soda, so the fridge is stocked with it,” Lucian said into the sudden and heavy silence that had settled between them.

“Thank you.” Morgan opened the fridge to grab a can before walking slowly back to the dining room and carefully sitting on the opposite side of the table from him. She watched him unobtrusively as he pulled a wide variety of breakfast sandwiches from the bags along with hash browns and several styrofoam trays filled with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and other such things. He must have bought everything on the menu at each restaurant.

What was it about Lucian that made her react so strongly? Sure he was built like some sort of god come to Earth; she still thought Thor fit him pretty perfect with the golden hair and the close trimmed, narrow line of facial hair that ran along his jaw and connected with a carefully trimmed, mustache. Even so,
all
of them were built that way. Arabrim certainly hadn’t been lacking and yet she’d never felt this way around him. For some reason her body responded to Lucian, and with what she’d glimpsed in his eyes, he responded the same to her. Thankfully, he seemed as eager to avoid it as she did.

Though she wanted to write it off as nothing more than physical attraction, it felt like a lie and that scared her even more. Deep connections with people were dangerous. It always led to pain in one way or another. Jake was the first person after her best friend died that she’d allowed close. Then she had let herself care about Arabrim and it had wrecked her.

And that’s what happened when people were let in. Deep emotional scars followed. How many tragedies and horrible situations could one person go through before they suffered a mental break? Was there some kind of specific limit? A number? Or was it an individual thing? In the end, it really didn’t matter which one it was, Morgan was near her limit.

Silence hung heavy in the room as they ate. Tension knotted in Morgan’s stomach with each passing moment. It was too quiet, too strained. Desperate to end it, she chanced a brief look at him across the table. He studied the food on his plate as if the secrets of the universe were contained within it.

“So,” Morgan took a quick drink then continued, “how long have you known Isobel?”

It wasn’t that she was really interested but damn one of them had to say something, this was unbearable.

Lucian looked up, clearly surprised that she’d initiated conversation. “Almost a year in this life, though I’ve known her many, many times over my lives.”

Morgan had to admit; the long-standing friendship between Lucian, Isobel, and Damien made her a little envious. The one other life she’d had where she’d grown old, she and her dark angel hadn’t had any contact with others and she hadn’t seen him in this life. Like Arabrim, he’d been a friend, nothing more. As lonely as that made her feel, she also knew it was for the best.

“Tell me,” he said, startling her from her thoughts. “Why didn’t you go to Damien and Isobel after Arabrim died? You would have been welcome with them.”

Morgan stared at her plate while she shoved scrambled eggs around with her fork. “I couldn’t do that to them.”

“Do what to them?” Sincere confusion filled his voice.

“People around me have a tendency to die,” she said and leaned back in her chair, pushing the plate away.

“Why do you say that? Because of Arabrim?” He studied her from across the table. “The Higher Powers gave me very little in the way of information about you, I know basically nothing.”

“And I don’t want to talk about it.” Morgan looked away from him, her hand absently stroking Lucy’s head for comfort.

“Right now, or with me?”

She shook her head a little and decided to be honest. “Both. Look, I’ve been up since yesterday afternoon and I drank way too much whiskey the night before.”

Lucian raised an eyebrow. “A drunk channel, that’s a first for me. I’ve never known one to do that after she’s come into her memories and powers.”

“Yeah, I’m freaking one of a kind. Yay for me.” She stood and dug her cigarettes out. Based on the smell inside the house, no one had smoked in there, so she headed through the sliding glass door to the patio.

It felt good to be outside. Strange it should have been nice to be in a house once again. Leave it up to her to be further screwed up. She lit a cigarette and took a drag as she closed her eyes against the early morning sun.

After a moment, she moved to lean against the wall while she watched Lucy prowl around the privacy-fenced backyard and nursed her nicotine. Whether he didn’t like the smell of cigarette smoke or just seemed to get that she needed space, Lucian thankfully left her alone.

When she came in, the table was cleared and Lucian was nowhere to be seen. Morgan moved through the house quietly. Though there was no need to remain unseen and unnoticed, it was a habit. Since the age of twelve, she’d found it was often the best way to be.

Lucy followed her into the bedroom where she shut the door and eyed the bed. It looked incredibly comfortable and appealing. Too comfortable. She would probably sleep like the dead on it. Lucian, like Arabrim, would make sure she was safe. Even so, Morgan wasn’t ready to be that helpless.

Leaving the bed untouched, she sat on the floor next to the dresser and leaned back against the wall. Lucy lay down next to her. Morgan ran her hand over the dog’s sleek, soft fur as she rested her head against the side of the dresser and closed her eyes. The silence of the house pressed against her ears. The quiet was unnerving. The upscale neighborhood with its expansive yards provided none of the noise she was used to.

No sirens wailing. No tires screeching against the pavement. No loud bass rattling everything as it passed by. No trains. No horns. No voices raised in argument or laughter. No breaking glass. No constant rush of the ebb and flow of traffic. No dogs barking or cats fighting.

It seemed to take forever before she was finally able to relax enough to allow a light doze to settle over her with only Lucy’s quiet snore to diffuse the silence.

SOMETHING CHANGED. IT
jerked Morgan from a shallow sleep. Disoriented, she braced herself for whatever it was that disturbed her. Sweeping her gaze around the room, it took a moment before Morgan remembered where she was. Her eyes came to rest on the open door and the man who leaned against the doorframe.

Lucian’s gaze flicked from her to the perfectly made bed. “Is there something wrong with the bed?”

“Not that I’m aware of. In fact, it looks pretty damn comfortable.” She climbed to her feet and stretched.

“Then why did you choose to sleep sitting up on the floor?”

Morgan yawned and shrugged. “I’m not ready to sleep as deep as I probably will in the bed.” She glanced at the window. “What time is it?”

“Just after ten in the morning.” Lucian pushed away from the doorframe. “There’s cold pizza from yesterday if you’re hungry.”

Despite the earlier meal, her stomach rumbled. “Sounds good to me.”

Morgan sidled past him. He stepped back as if he too wanted to avoid any accidental contact.

He followed her down the stairs and out onto the back patio. While Lucy made use of the huge backyard, Morgan lit a cigarette. After sucking in a deep drag and blowing it out, she glanced at Lucian who sat in one of the patio chairs. He watched her with an unreadable expression.

“What?”

Lucian shook his head and shifted his gaze to the dog. Morgan took another long drag wishing the nicotine could erase the part of her that wanted to be closer to him. Such a stupid way to feel. Imagine how much more devastating Arabrim’s loss would have been if she’d cared about him the way her heart seemed to want to care about Lucian.

And how exactly could her heart want anything when it came to Lucian? She’d only met him twice before this. Because, it whispered back at her, he’d shown consideration and caring where few had in a long time. Because he’d thought of Lucy when he came back with the phone at the tower. Because when she’d needed him to walk away and take Lucy with him, he had done it. Had kept the dog safe and given her the space she’d so desperately needed that night. Because the next night, despite the way she’d acted before, he’d come the moment she asked him to.

If Morgan was honest with herself, she would just admit that from the moment she’d opened the backpack and found the items inside for Lucy, she’d begun to feel something for Lucian. It wasn’t love, but it was something. Morgan shook her head and took another deep drag, unsure if she was ready to be that honest with herself. It was safer, easier, to keep him at a distance. To keep everyone at a distance.

The part of her that keenly felt the loneliness of the path she’d chosen, the part that craved love and the touch of someone important, tried to protest. She crushed it ruthlessly. Even so, it still murmured in the background.

Lucian observed the play of emotions across her face from the corner of his eye. What did she struggle with so much? Was it just Arabrim’s death that caused the flash of sadness and loss so profound on her face that it made his own heart ache? Or was there something more she carried that weighed so heavy on her?

Morgan took the last drag as she tried to avoid looking in his direction, aware his attention was on her. Uncomfortable under the scrutiny, she crushed out the butt and tossed it in an empty flower pot. Lucy didn’t seem interested in going back inside yet, so Morgan left her chewing on a giant ball and went back inside.

The pizza boxes were on the granite top of the kitchen island. Morgan opened one and pulled a piece out, not really caring what was on it. She glanced at Lucian who had followed her in. “Are you one of those people who think all food should be eaten at the table?”

“I’m not, no. And even if I was, this is your home now. Eat where ever you want,” Lucian said as he grabbed one of the boxes and carried it to the living room.

Morgan watched him go before tossing her piece back in the box it had come from. Picking the whole box up, she held it one hand while she took a soda from the fridge then followed him.

The large television was already on and Lucian sat in one of the chairs when she entered the room. Choosing the couch, Morgan set the box and soda on the coffee table and sank into the comfortable cushions. She popped open the soda then pulled the slice of pizza back out.

It didn’t feel like home. No place was her home, even Arabrim’s really hadn’t been. Like this house, Arabrim’s hadn’t belonged to her. Nothing did except the stuff in her backpack. It seemed like such a minuscule thing to represent a person. A pile of worn clothes and a backpack with a coat and odds and ends stuffed in it. If she died right then, there was no worry about what to do with her stuff; it would all fit nicely in a single trashcan.

Morgan paid little attention to the television. She’d never had much of a chance to watch one since the Grissoms. By the time she was with Arabrim, Morgan had gotten completely out of the notion of watching one and since Arabrim’s death, had only watched one when she was looking after the pawnshop owner’s daughter last fall.

Lucian watched it with a notable lack of interest. Did he have certain shows he liked to watch? And what did she care? She didn’t. It didn’t matter.

There was a ragged paperback in her backpack. She’d found it lying on the ground next to a garbage can several days ago. She would have to grab it later. However, after three pieces of pizza and the can of soda, Morgan was so relaxed she didn’t want to move. It wasn’t really a good thing to get so comfortable here. Exhausted from the past few months, her lids slowly closed.