"Nothing," Serena lied.
What else was she supposed to say? That she liked him better when he was strong, immovable, terrifying? That she found something unsettlingly attractive about the way he'd handled her like a ragdoll that night, as if she were weightless and he was made of stone?
She would rather be buried alive—no, a hundred times over—than allow him to hear those thoughts slip from her lips.
Lucian turned his head on the pillow, his pale skin luminous under the soft lighting. "They say when someone is about to die, they can feel it. Do you think it's true?" he murmured. His voice was so quiet it was almost like it had been stolen from a dream.
And just like that, the wicked knot in Serena's stomach twisted again, meaner this time, curling like a snake tightening around her ribs.
