Chapter 622
Chapter 622:
This was Lucian’s sanctuary. His nest.
Skye stumbled up the stone steps, Bianca clicking along behind her in heels that were entirely inappropriate for the terrain.
“She looks terrible,” Bianca sneered, stepping close to Lucian. “The withdrawal is setting in fast. Look at her skin p>
Lucian stopped in the grand foyer. The interior was a jarring contrast to the exterior—opulent, filled with velvet drapes and gold-leafed furniture, but the walls were adorned with taxidermy. Heads of exotic animals stared down with glass eyes. It smelled of lemon polish and formaldehyde.
“Throw her on the sofa,” Lucian said, peeling off his leather gloves.
Skye was tossed onto a plush velvet couch. She immediately curled up, scratching at her forearms. She dug her nails in, leaving angry red welts.
“I need it,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Please… just a little p>
Lucian walked over and stood above her. He looked down with the clinical detachment of a scientist observing a lab rat.
“The great Skye Sterling,” he mused. “The Oracle. Reduced to this p>
“She’s broken, sir,” Bianca said, moving closer to Lucian, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. “She’ll do anything for the powder now. You own her p>
Bianca reached out, her hand hovering near Lucian’s arm.
In a flash of movement too fast to track, Lucian’s hand shot out. He didn’t strike her; he grabbed her jaw, his fingers digging into her cheeks, forcing her mouth open into a silent “O p>
“Did I give you permission to touch me?” Lucian asked softly.
Bianca’s eyes went wide with terror. She tried to shake her head, but his grip was iron.
“No… sir…” she mumbled through his fingers.
“You smell cheap,” Lucian said, shoving her away. She stumbled back, clutching her face. “Don’t invade my space again p>
Skye watched through the curtain of her hair. Lucian was a germaphobe, a control freak with a violent streak that simmered just beneath his tailored suits. And Bianca… Bianca was terrified of him.
𝗢𝘳𝘨𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗓𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘂𝗋 𝗿e𝘢𝖽i𝘯𝗀 𝗹𝘪𝗌𝗍 𝗼𝗇 𝖻e.с𝗼m
That was good.
Fear was a lever Skye could pull.
Lucian turned his attention back to Skye. He wiped his hand on a silk handkerchief and dropped it on the floor.
“Take her downstairs,” Lucian ordered the guards. “Put her in the Birdcage p>
“No!” Skye screamed, flailing as the guards grabbed her arms. “I want the medicine! You promised p>
“Earn it,” Lucian said, turning his back on her.
She was dragged through a heavy oak door and down a spiral stone staircase. The air grew colder, damper. The smell of lemon polish faded, replaced by the metallic tang of rust and old fear.
The basement wasn’t a dungeon.
It was a gallery.