Elena
“Avoid me,” he said.
Just like that.
No.
Absolutely not.
My brain short-circuited for a second, and then something snapped.
I grabbed the edge of my towel tighter and stormed after him, still dripping, still flushed, still so dizzy from everything that had already happened, but my mouth—oh Goddess—my mouth was in full swing now.
“Wait—what?”
He didn’t stop.
So I said it louder.
“Lucian Blackthorne, are you seriously telling me to avoid you right now like we’re in some kind of teenage soap opera and you’re the brooding bad boy with a dark secret and I’m supposed to what? Crawl into a corner and cry about it?!”
That made him pause.
One foot from the door.
Back still turned.
I didn’t care. I kept going. I could not shut up.
“Is this because I slapped you?” I demanded, ste
