Surrendered To The Lord Of Sin

Fell in love? Lucrezia’s eyes widened, as she read that part over and over again, to be certain she wasn’t hallucinating.

She read the sentence again.

Once.

Twice.

A third time, just to make certain she had not misunderstood what was written.

One of the Sins fell in love with their kind.

Had a sin fallen in love with a witch?

The thought was so absurd that Lucrezia could hardly comprehend it.

She had grown up hearing stories of the Sins. She had been taught to fear them, to regard them as beings far removed from mortals—creatures of darkness who possessed neither sympathy nor mercy. Never once had anyone mentioned this.

"How could it be?" she whispered.

Her gaze remained fixed upon the page.

If one of the Sins had been capable of love, then what did that mean for the others?

Could they all feel it?

Lucrezia nearly shook her head at the thought. No, she thought. That couldn’t be right.

She hurriedly turned the page, searching for more. Perhaps the account continued elsewhere. Perhaps the writer had merely mentioned it without explanation and elaborated later.

But there was nothing. There was no further explanation which left her utterly in shock and with a thousand questions running through her mind.

No, no, no, no.

Lucrezia flipped the pages fervently, colliding with further confusing histories and accounts, but nothing to explain what she was searching for.

She flipped forward, then backward, again and again. Her frustration grew with every empty page.

"This can’t be," she muttered.

There had to be something. A name. A date. A record of which Sin it had been. Anything.

But the further she searched, the more the book seemed determined to deny her the answers she wanted.

Lucrezia eventually stopped, staring down at the open pages. Why would such an important event simply end there?

Unless—

Unless someone had deliberately removed the rest.

The thought made her sit straighter.

She slowly ran her fingers along the edge of the page, examining the old binding.

Perhaps Greed knew. The realization made her uneasy.

He had given her the book. He had spoken of the library. He had practically invited her to ask questions. Had he known exactly what she would find?

Lucrezia frowned. She didn’t know. And that uncertainty bothered her more than anything.

She turned another page. Nothing. She turned another page, still nothing.

So absorbed was she in her search that she failed to notice the presence approaching from the doorway.

"What can’t be?"

Lucrezia startled violently. The book nearly slipped from her hands as she looked up.

Vaeron stood at the entrance, his hands inside his pockets as he stared at the young lady who looked as pale as a ghost. Draped in a white tunic, three buttons were left undone, revealing the hard line of his chiseled chest, and trousers that hugged his sculptured legs.

His hair, however, was disheveled, but that didn’t make him any less captivating. Those hazel eyes stared at her with a cold intensity she had never quite learned how to withstand.

Lucrezia’s heart immediately began pounding.

In an instant, she closed the book, perhaps too quickly. She instinctively drew the book closer to herself, suddenly aware of how suspicious that must have looked.

Vaeron seemed to notice, as his eyes followed her sudden movement.

For a moment, neither spoke.

"My lord," she said finally, rising from the bed. "I... I didn’t hear you enter."

Vaeron didn’t respond immediately. And when he did, "I noticed." He said. His voice was calm, too calm.

Lucrezia swallowed. She had not expected him to return so soon. "Forgive me," She murmured, lowering her gaze.

He stepped farther into the room, his attention remained on her. Vaeron looked at the creature with disinterest, who shook like a scared cat, though he couldn’t eliminate the view of how small and fragile she looked from that angle.

She looked different.

Not merely healthier than when he had last seen her, though the improvement was obvious. There was more color in her face now. She stood without assistance. Her movements no longer carried the same weakness.

But there was something else, something in the way she watched him, cautious and calculating—and beneath it, fear.

His jaw ticked.

Finally, he stepped into the room, the sharp click of his boot earning a subtle startled jump from her.

He could hear her heartbeat, how fast it pumped, and it took him a great deal of control not to appear before her and dive his claws into that tempting chest.

His expression hardened slightly.

Fear was something he understood. What he did not understand was why hers seemed different.

"Look at me," he ordered.

Lucrezia hesitated for a moment before lifting her gaze.

The moment their eyes met, she felt exposed.

Those hazel eyes studied her in silence, moving over her face as though searching for something she could not name.

Lucrezia forced herself to remain still, though her fingers tightened around the book behind her. She immediately wondered whether he could tell.

Could he see the book?

Could he somehow know what she had been reading?

Her fingers tightened around its cover. Her heartbeat seemed deafening in the silence.

She wondered if he could hear it.

Of course he could.

Meanwhile, Vaeron caught the rate at which her heart changed pace, beating louder than before.

He frowned.

Her fear would’ve excited him. He longed to see the terrified look on her face when he was near, but something about it displeased him.

"You’re still afraid of me."

The statement caught her off guard.

Lucrezia’s lips parted slightly. "I—"

"You weren’t this frightened before," he added, and she remained speechless.

Then Lucrezia lowered her gaze. The truth was that she wasn’t entirely certain when it had changed.

Perhaps it was because she had been unconscious the last time they spoke. Perhaps because she was only now beginning to understand exactly what sort of creature she had been married to.

Or perhaps it was everything that had happened at the fair.

"I apologize," she murmured.

"For what?"

"For... being afraid."

Something faint shifted in his expression. "You have no reason to apologize for that."

Lucrezia looked up again. The answer was not what she expected.

Vaeron stepped farther into the room, his attention still fixed upon her. "How do you feel?"

Her heart skipped. "Better."

"That wasn’t my question."

She blinked.

He glanced briefly toward the bed. "Are you still in pain?"

"N-Not much."

He regarded her for another moment before giving a small nod. "Good."

The single word should have brought relief, yet something about the way he said it made her wonder if he had been genuinely concerned.

Lucrezia shifted her weight.

"I was only reading," she said, almost as though she needed to explain her being awake.

"I can see that."

Her fingers curled tighter around the book.

Vaeron, however, did not attempt to ask what it was.

She sighed in relief.

Instead, his gaze moved toward the untouched tray on the table.

"You haven’t eaten," he observed with a displeased look on his face.

"I... I was going to."

"When?"

She frowned faintly. "After I finished."

His eyes returned to her. "You’ve been reading since morning."

Lucrezia glanced toward the window. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

"I suppose I lost track,"

"You seem to do that often."

She gave him a small, uncertain look.

Vaeron crossed the room and stopped near the table. He lifted the cover from the teapot, found it cold, and set it down again.

Lucrezia knew what he was about to say, and immediately stepped in. "I can eat later."

"No."

The firmness in his voice left little room for argument.

She lowered her eyes. "Yes, my lord."

For a moment, neither spoke.

Vaeron turned away from her, the faint light from the windows falling across his face. That was when Lucrezia noticed it.

There were fresh scars along his face.

Her expression changed immediately. They hadn’t been there before.

Her heart sank. Who had done that to him?

She stared at him for a moment, unable to stop herself. He looked different somehow—not because of the scars alone, but because there was an exhaustion about him that she had never noticed before.

He looked as though sleep had become something he could no longer afford.

Lucrezia took a hesitant step toward him. "My lord..."

Vaeron glanced at her.

Her hand lifted instinctively, her fingers moving toward his face before she could think better of it.

He caught her wrist before she could touch him and pushed her hand away. The movement was quick, almost instinctive.

Lucrezia froze.

Vaeron’s expression remained unreadable, but something hardened in his eyes. He turned his face slightly away from her, as though he couldn’t bear whatever he had seen in her expression.

Pity.

He had mistaken her concern for it, and Vaeron hated pity more than he hated pain.

Startled, "I was only—" She tried explaining herself, only to be interrupted.

"Don’t."

The single word stopped her.

Lucrezia lowered her hand slowly. She looked at him again.

He seemed tired. Not merely weary, but exhausted in a way that reached deeper than his appearance. His hair was disheveled, his clothes slightly rumpled, and there were faint shadows beneath his eyes.