“I knew that,” she said softly.
“Did you know that they’d already been concubines for five generations?”
Her head tilted back and he met her gaze.
“I didn’t know that,” she replied softly.
He nodded. “Not only concubines to vampires but concubines to kings.”
He watched her face pale, felt her body get tight and she pushed up and away.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, so appalled for once she forgot her own nudity.
“Leah –”
Expression still horrified, she talked over him. “I come from a family of whores.”
His arms curved around her and he pulled her up his chest so they were face-to-face.
“You must remember, those times were different,” he warned, locking eyes with her. “And the Buchanan women were different. They wanted something else from life. Strong women couldn’t live their own lives back then, no women could. Your ancestors did what they had to do to guarantee themselves a certain amount of freedom, freedom that included safety and comfort and they didn’t care what people thought. These are traits to admire, then and now.” She continued to look horrified and dubious so he went on, “I knew your Buchanan ancestors, pet, they made their own way without men ruling their lives. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.” His voice dipped low. “And they would have liked you, particularly you. You remind me of them, Leah.”
She wrinkled her nose and Lucien thought it made her look adorable so he smiled.
“I’m giving you a compliment,” he informed her.
“Okay,” she agreed without actually agreeing, clearly wanting to be off the subject.
He disregarded her nonverbal cue. “They ensured, for centuries, that all of their line would live safe and well, even you. And I don’t mean now with me, I mean your whole life as provided by your mother.”
“Seems to me men provided that life or at least vampires did. In our case, Cosmo took care of us.”
“Yes, but for seven years your mother took care of Cosmo.”
She made a noise that sounded like a snort.
He gave her an impatient squeeze but softened his voice. “What your family does is no small thing. Without your blood, your mother’s, your entire line and all those like you, given willingly, we would need to hunt.”
He watched as understanding dawned then her brows drew together and she replied, “All those people at the Feasts, Wats and Breed... you wouldn’t go hungry and you wouldn’t need to hunt.”
“You’re correct,” he allowed. “But survival feeding is very different than partaking of an elegant repast. The vampires who remained after The Revolution as a whole crave the finer things in life. You saw them, Leah. Wats and Breed are not the finer things in life. Concubines definitely are. To find that, if not given willingly, we’d hunt.”
Her eyes moved from his and she muttered, “Snooty.”
“Look at me, pet,” he demanded and when she did he went on. “That isn’t it, there’s more. You said three weeks ago that there were not many people I could be myself with and you’re one. Do you have any idea what it’s like, second-to-second for centuries, hiding who you are to live in the mortal’s world?”
She squirmed uncomfortably against him and he stilled her with another arm squeeze.
She seemed to be searching for an argument, found one and retorted, “Lucien, you can totally be yourself at Feasts and around Wats and Breed. They’d love it. They’d do anything for you to be you. They live for it.”
“It’s different.”
“How?”
Lucien sighed before explaining, “They don’t want me to be me. They want me to be whatever their twisted notion is of a vampire, superhuman creature of the night, romanticized or demonized in their minds. They think they’re playing with fire or living a novel. They don’t accept me for being what I am. They’re takers, users, all of them. You see it as them giving me something but it’s not, they’re taking. I may be feeding off their blood but they’re feeding as well. What I do is natural, giving my body what it needs. What they do is selfish and greedy. Not once from the likes of Breed and Wats or anyone at A Feast have I ever met a single mortal soul who knows what I am who’s given one whit about me. Asked me about my day. Wondered aloud at my mood. Wished to discuss a book. Five hundred years, Leah, and not once. I’m not human to them. I don’t exist outside whatever fantasy they’ve created about me. I’m their tool to manipulate to an orgasm or whatever the fuck they get from me.”
As he spoke he noticed her face soften before sorrow filled her gaze. Sorrow mixed with tenderness, a look so bleak yet intensely compassionate, it shook him.