Celine woke up rejuvenated. She even got herself a proper breakfast from the stash, a bowl of porridge with honey and nuts, and some dried fruits.
They both were sitting with their backs against the stone slab. Lucian had his knee pulled to his chest, while Celine had her legs under her, sitting on her feet.
"Am I not going to get any?" Lucian asked, watching her chew by his side.
"..." She didn't answer right away. With the spoon halfway to her mouth, she slowly brought the spoon to his lips.
Lucian opened his mouth for another spoonful of the porridge, licking his lips after swallowing.
She looked away and started to feed herself, licking the spoon clean.
Did he finally conquer her heart? It always felt agonizingly out of reach. Even when she showed affection, she always maintained her haughty composure to protect herself.
Witnessing her absolute devotion was so intoxicating, it was overriding his anger about being murdered.
His eyes dropped to her lips again, then back to her eyes. 'Touch me,' he tried to send telepathic messages to her, 'Touch me, touch me, touch ME.'
The tingling sensation grew stronger. The desire to close the distance between them had him moving closer to her.
He placed his hand on her cheek, his thumb caressing her lips. She turned her face away from his touch, his hand following her movement, his lips almost touching her cheek.
A flicker of longing passed through her eyes, before she pulled head away, hiding her expression. "He wouldn't do that..." she mumbled to herself, "He wouldn't... I know he wouldn't."
It took Lucian a moment to realize that she meant the real him, and not his hallucinated version.
'Right…she is still mourning my death. Of course she wouldn't be in the mood...'
"I would," he assured her.
"You would, but not him." She went to clean the bowl in a basin of cold water, "This is just what I want to see...not what he would do."
Lucian followed after her, watching her hands become red from the cold water. She was expecting some petty response instead of his comfort. Was she so used to being treated badly by him?
He put his hands on either side of the basin, trapping her between his arms. He began warming the water with his palm, his eyes on the side of her face. He was not that bad, was he?
Her neck shrunk into her shoulders when he leaned over her from behind, "How can you be in a mood to make love at a time like this?"
"Make love? That would require me to love you, cherish you, respect you, worship you," he listed on his fingers, counting them, "I wish to do none of those."
He wasn't feeling petty right now, but he needed it to get under her skin. As that's where he belonged, in her heart, under her skin, a part of her.
The dish fell out of her hands, splashing water on her dress. She quickly picked it up and put it with the other supplies, pretending it didn't affect her. Her mind was racing with thoughts, which reflected on her face. The more affectionate he got, the more she retreated into herself.
He didn't know what solution she had come up with in her head, but she moved, with him still attached to her back. It would have been comedic, had she not carry the crazed look in her eyes. Like she was truly sick in the head, and needed immediate help.
She went through her bags, rummaging through them, "The faster I deal with this, the sooner I'll meet him again." She took out a razor from one of the bags.
Lucian's eyes locked on the sharp tool in her hand, the glint of its blade made him tense, "What are you doing with that?"
"I need to give him a shave, so get lost." She walked to the other side of the cave, where a bucket of water was, "I don't want to cut him by accident."
"I'm still sensitive from the dagger," Lucian no longer followed her, watching her chest heave with panic. He was fully aware that her sanity was hanging by a thread. She was being reduced to a broken woman who was trying to groom his corpse, a result of her obsession with him.
She raised the razor at him, the blade shining under the dim light, "Then tell your general to behave."
Lucian glanced down at the bulge in his pants. He could order his body to stop reacting, but he didn't want to. "What's wrong with it? The least you can do for stabbing me is to give him a little treat."
"Lucian Arclight, I swear on everything holy. If you don't put your general to sleep this instant, I will shave him off!" She walked toward him, ready to carry out her threat, "You are in no position to be getting aroused, you hear me? I killed you! Do you understand? You died!"
Lucian blinked at her words, like he was contemplating them for real, "You will?"
Her hand faltered before resuming its approach. "I will... I will, unless you get lost right now."
Lucian sat at the edge of the slab, his feet on the ground. He placed his palms on the stone, offering her his lap. "Lust is a strange thing, isn't it? What I would do to be touched right now is beyond me."
He hoped he would regain some sense as well. It was getting ridiculous how much he wanted to do things to her. This should turn him off, make him mad, not want to touch her even more, but…
Celine looked up at the ceiling, as if asking for divine intervention, before dragging the bucket over. She crouched between his legs, placing the bucket on the side. "Don't move."
Why was he getting even more excited about her unbuttoning his pants? He should have been afraid for his life, but his heart was racing for a different reason.
Finally, the closeness he had been craving, her touch he had been missing, was right here.