Silence fell again.
Lucian leaned back, stretching out, then pushed himself to his bed with unhurried steps. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he settled against it, one arm behind his head, the other resting lightly across his stomach.
He closed his eyes, but there was no rest in him. His mind moved even in stillness.
The morning played back in sharp fragments: Alistair's trembling restraint, Alaric's cold fury, Sebastian's sharp suspicion. Three pieces of the same dangerous puzzle. Three men who did not trust him, did not want him—yet could not quite push him away.
It almost amused him. Almost.
His smile curved faintly in the dark. They think me harmless enough to toy with, yet dangerous enough to watch. Bait, they call me. A pawn.
The word tasted bitter. He would not remain bait.
