Made of Her
Lucien
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
Alaric stood like a man carved from resolve—barefoot, cuffless, unchained. But I could still smell the singed residue of the brand they’d held at his door. I could still hear the echo of Lilitha’s voice in my skull, venomous and amused.
Do try not to kill him. Madeline would hate that.
My hands flexed once at my sides as I rolled my head to the side.
“I don’t have time for riddles,” I said. “So let’s skip the part where you posture like some kind of martyr. Why were you really at the museum?”
Alaric’s jaw tensed. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then—
“I was watching.”
“That much is obvious. You didn’t lift a hand to help her.”
His eyes flashed. “She didn’t need help.”
There had been a moment, right after Madeline va
