Chapter 2

Elena's POV

"Long time no see, Elena."

My name in his mouth felt like a blade sliding between my ribs.

I couldn't move. I couldn't even blink. The mask lay on the floor between us, and with it, every wall I had built over five years.

"Lucien." His name slipped out before I could stop myself.

Something dark flickered across his face. He crossed the distance between us in two long strides and closed his hand around my arm, not rough like the drunk man from before, but firm enough that I knew I wasn't going anywhere.

"Don't say my name like you have any right to it," he said.

In that moment, my entire world broke. I wanted to hide. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. 

"Let go of me,” I cried, struggling away from his grip but that did little to deter him.

"No." His voice came off in a firm way.

He pulled me through a side door into the private lounge, away from every stare in that club. The door shut behind us with a heavy click, and suddenly it was just the two of us and years of silence.

He stared me over like I was a ghost. To him maybe I was.

"You're dead," he said. His voice shook, just a bit. "I watched them lower an empty casket into the ground. I stood at your grave, Elena. I put flowers on dirt that had nothing of you underneath it."

"I know."

"You know?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Five years, and that's all you have to say to me?"

The tension in the air wavered slightly. If only he knew the full story. But I wasn’t going to clear the air. No. It was too late for that.

"What do you want from me, Lucien?"

"The truth would be a good start."

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how little my costume covered. His eyes followed the movement, and something possessive burned behind them.

"Cover yourself," he said sharply, pulling off his own jacket and dropping it over my shoulders. "I don't want to think about how many men have seen you like this."

"I don't answer to you anymore."

"You were mine before you were anyone else's." He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his body. "My father's stepdaughter. My stepsister. Do you understand what that made us, Elena? What we risked, just to be together? You actually dared to fake your death and escape."

I flinched.

"Then explain it to me." His eyes searched mine, desperate and furious at once. "Because for five years I've imagined every version of that night. You in his bed. You laughing behind my back at the fool who gave up his birthright for you. Tell me I imagined it."

"You didn't imagine what you saw. But you never once asked me why."

"Why does it matter why? I saw you with my own eyes."

"It matters because you never gave me the chance to explain before you walked yourself off to duty and hate. You saw me in bed with your uncle and didn’t care to ask me why. You only heard what you wanted to hear and then you left.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment I saw something like doubt cross his face, before it hardened again.

"Don't turn this around on me.”

"Then stop pretending you already know everything."

He leaned in, and I forgot how to breathe. His face was inches from mine.

"Where have you been sleeping the last five years, Elena? Whose bed? How many wolves have had the chance I never gave myself again after that night?"

"That is none of your business."

"Everything about you is my business." His fingers found my jaw, tilting my face up to his. His voice dropped lower. "You still smell the same. Five years, and you still smell like something I used to call mine."

My whole body betrayed me. I hated how my pulse jumped at his touch, how some traitorous part of me leaned toward him instead of away.

The way his eyes made my insides squirm for his body. I missed that now I was before him.

All those nights… all those kisses, those beds we shared. The memories came back with so much force, my eyes welled up from the pain of his absence as I struggled to get away from him.

"Let go," I whispered, without much conviction.

"Say it like you mean it."

I didn't answer. I couldn’t.

His mouth almost brushed mine, a breath away, close enough that I could taste the whiskey on his lips before he pulled back sharply, as if he'd caught himself doing something he swore he'd never do again.

"No," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "Not like this. Not until you tell me the truth."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Liar." His hand tightened around my wrist. "You're hiding something. I can feel it. A wolf always knows when someone is lying to him."

"You don't know anything about me anymore. I’m not the Elena you used to know."

"Then let me learn." His eyes turned colder, more decided. "I'm leaving for Crescent Fang tomorrow night. And you're coming with me."

My stomach dropped. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I have a life here, Lucien. A job. A…” I stopped myself. He couldn’t know about Eli. “I'm not going anywhere with you."

"You faked your own death to escape me for some reason," he said, his voice low and merciless. "Do you really think I'm going to let you disappear a second time?"

"You can't force me to go back there."

"Watch me."

I stared at him, my heart hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it.

"I don't care what excuse you give me," he said, stepping back at last, straightening his cuffs like a man closing a business deal instead of destroying a life. "Pack whatever you need. I'll send a car for you tomorrow at midnight."

"And if I refuse?"

He looked back at me, and for the first time since he had said my name, he almost smiled, but it was cold and a little cruel.

"Then I'll make sure everyone in this city knows exactly who Coco really is."