Her Forbidden Mate

No Care

CAROLINE'S POV

--

I sit back down, and I'm suddenly aware of every movement. I take the last bite of the croissant and wince at how loud I actually chew. My eyes flit over the glass, and I could see somewhat of his reflection as the moon illuminates his features in a soft glow. He glances up toward me, and I can feel his eyes on the back of my head, but he just shrugs it off, and continues to write. Twisting in my chair, I stare at him, how his thick brows knit together as he concentrates, how his eyes flit over the words, the way his hand flows and how his fingers pinch the pen, how his dark locks glint under the moonlight, falling over his forehead.

"Lucian," I breathe his name, my voice carrying through the eerie quiet dining hall. He doesn't lift his head, only his eyes. His steel blue eyes stare at me through his long, dark lashes.

I didn't think of what I should say.

"Well?" he sneers.

Think, Care. Think.

"Where can I get a schedule of classes?" Wow, is that really the best I could come up with? "It should be with your books," he sneers, lifting his chin, "What did you actually do today?" He quirks a brow, waving his pen through the air. Anger claws at my throat. How dare he speak to me like I didn't have the worst day of my life?

I could give him a list, throw my anger out in words, but he doesn't care.

He made that very clear.

"Nothing worth the while," Including meeting him.

'Meeting your mate is going to be like the first warm sun after the ugly winter. It's going to feel like a dream as his arms wrap around you, and your skin is going to set alight in fiery flames of pleasure. It's going to be the best day of your life.'

That was how my mother explained it to me. I was a fool for believing it to be true. "Is that so?" his lip twitches up into a smirk.

What the hell does that mean?

I stand, the back of my knees nearly knocking over the chair. I leave the left-over croissant and cheese roll on the table, taking just my candle, heading for the door. Lucian stands, the screeching of the against the hardwood floors pierce my ears. He grabs my arm, those warm sparks tingling down my spine again.

Goddess, his touch feels...magical.

His voice is a mere whisper, "What do you expect me to do?" he hisses, his eyes searching mine.

I expect him to claim me, to lean down and kiss me, to touch me, to be mine.

"Nothing," I shrug free from his grasp on my arm, turning toward the door.

Nothing is all we'll ever have.

I gasp when his fingers curl around my nape, and he shoves me into the wall, snatching the candle, blowing it out, and drops it. My chest press into the hard stone wall. My breath hitches in my throat as his heat spreads across my back, his weight holding me in place. With my cheek pressed against the rough stone, my hands sprawled out against the cold wall, I stand frozen.

Lucian's hand finds my waist, the skin becoming overly sensitive as my bones become rigid. With his chest pressed to my back, he leans into me, his mouth so close to my turned face that I can feel his hot breath fanning the shell of my ear, yet I can't see his face in the shadow that his body casts over us.

"You have to f*****g stop," he breathes, his tone a mix of a plea, and demand.

Fuck me, but the sound of his low growl has heat pooling in between my thighs. "Stop what?" I manage through the overwhelming urge to push back into him. There's nothing more pathetic than a woman who is overly needy.

I'll show him.

I don't need him.

"Stop asking about us, stop thinking about it. Stop pushing me, before you end up dead." his lips gently brush the shell of my ear, and the idea of showing him that I don't need him completely falls apart as an audible, shuddered breath passes my lips. His fingers on my hip dig into the bone, slowly curling, the brown material riling up and his ice-cold pinky brushes over my hot skin. The tips of my fingers press into the hard stone, my back straightening, and one hand slowly glides down the stone, leaving scrapes across my palm. I inhale his scent, and as the sea fog scent kisses my senses, I push back into him, finding him hard as stone, pressing into my ass. He rips away from me, the satisfying heat that bloomed between our bodies has turned ice cold, yet still lingers on my skin in flames of pleasure.

"Go to bed, Careless." The heat, the spark, all of it vanishes. "It's Caroline." I correct, twisting around, but he's already taking his seat, ignoring me like whatever just happened, didn't happen. "Your name has no use to me," he waves me off with a flick of the wrist, and goes back to his writing.

I really am nothing to him...

Defeated, humiliated, I retreat, in the dark, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness and head up the stairs. I can't fathom how he could be so heartless. One should be thrilled to find their mate, yet in our situation, it's an inconvenience-- that's what I am to him.

Inconvenient.

Nothing.

A hand rests on my shoulder as I push open my bedroom door, and I startle, whipping around, unsheathing my knife from the side of my pants, and lift it to Zyran's neck.

Zyran.

I lower the knife, releasing a long breath, "Goddess, you scared me." My eyes narrow on him, "Are you okay?" he quirks a brow, eyeing me, observing me. "I'm fine," I shrug. It isn't a lie, nothing is physically wrong with me, and for my emotional state? Well, that doesn't mean anything. "It's rare for a woman to walk these halls with no candlelight." That playful grin creeps up his face again. It's not like I had a choice.

"My eyes work perfectly fine," My lips press into a tight smile. "Do you need to talk?" The concern in his eyes is welcoming. It makes me want to free my heart of the weight that's been crushing it, but Lucian made it pretty clear that I'd end up dead if I continued thinking about us.

Us.

How ridiculous to think like this when there isn't an us.

It's just me, and this hellhole for the next two years.

"No," The kindness in my voice doesn't reach my eyes, even I can hear it. "Come on," he pushes through the threshold into my room, and I let him. Zyran plops down onto my bed, grinning as his arms stretch behind his head, "You know," his eyes flit across the room, "People here are brutal, but they do care at the end of the day." he shrugs, sitting up.

"No one is rude to me," They just completely ignore my existence, all except for Lucian. "You seem upset," he sits up, this time looking more serious. Zyran is a beautiful man with his light brown hair combed to the side, his icy blues that steal my breath, and just his personality makes him even more attractive. "I missed dinner," I shrug, moving closer to him, and sit down on the edge. "Are you hungry?" he quirks a brow, but it's his knowing grin that catches me off guard. "I don't think I want to say yes," I scoff. "Well," he lays back against the headboard, "If you ever need something to suck on, I'm always here," His teasing and flirting is going to get him killed, or it might just be the best performance I've ever seen and my entertainment for the next two years.

"I'm kidding," he scoffs, getting off the bed. "Look, I'm here if you need anything. Just howl through the window," he grins, and leaves.

I think he caught on that I wasn't going to talk about what's bothering me, and it's nice to have his respect. I move to the small desk with books, and start reading.

--

Banging pulls me from my sleep, but it's my dead arm and aching neck that has me stuck in my position. I jolt up when the banging gets closer, louder, more urgent. Fully awake, I stand, shaking my arm to get the blood flowing again after I fell asleep on it. "Wake the f**k up!" Lucian's voice booms through the hallway outside, and the next bang is on my door. "Breakfast!" he yells and I pull open the door, just wanting to catch a glimpse of him, to meet his eyes, to get a whiff of his scent, but by the time I open the door, he's already vanished. Zyran stands outside of his own bedroom door, dressed and leaning back against the wall, staring right at me. I retreat into my room, grab a jacket and head toward the stairs.

Zyran falls in next to me, "So f*****g weird," he grumbles when he spots Lucian in the front, trotting down. "What?" My interest is piqued. "He has never woken us up for breakfast." his eyes narrow, "He's more of a 'control yourself'' kind of guy, from what I've gathered." He shrugs and my insides twist.

Did he wake everyone up for breakfast just to make sure I ate, or am I imagining things?

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, Lucian holds up the entire floor, his eyes flitting over all of us, and I notice how hard he tries not to look at me directly. "A lap around the courtyard, go." he demands, and when some begin to protest, he simply crosses his arms, "Then no breakfast." He challenges, and that shuts them up and gets all of us running.

Or maybe he just wants to torture the floor.

'He doesn't care for you, remember?' Clara reminds me, her presence is like a snowstorm of harsh reality.