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“Lucifer Raven doesn’t know the meaning of the word love,” Buck says. “Believe me. I know.”

“Maybe he’s changed. Did you know he’s a recovering alcoholic?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Was he a big drinker?”

“Come to think of it,” Buck says, “I’m not sure I ever saw him without a drink in his hand. But he never seemed to be drunk.”

“Oh?”

“But that could mean that he was just so tolerant of the alcohol that it didn’t make him drunk in the normal sense.”

“Isn’t that called a functioning alcoholic?” I ask.

“I don’t know anything about alcoholism, thank God. But he was a fucked-up mess, Katelyn. He abused my sister. Kept her locked up. He even…”

“What?”

“I don’t want to have to tell you this. I really don’t want to have to destroy the image that you have in your head. But he hit my sister. More than once.”

My hands fly to my mouth.

No. Not Luke. Luke would never strike a woman. He’s a gentle and caring man.

“I see that surprises you.” Buck rakes his fingers through his hair.

“I just can’t believe it. There must be two different people. My Luke is not your Lucifer Raven.”

“Somehow I doubt that two people have that exact same tattoo.”

“How do we know it’s the same? Do you have a picture of it?”

“As a matter fact, I do. Of course it’s on my phone, which I don’t have on me at the moment.”

“Can you draw it?”

“Maybe a crude replica,” he says, “but I doubt there’s a pen and paper in this room.”

“Why wouldn’t there be?”

“Because a pen can be used as a weapon. Anything with a point can.”

“Right.” I should know that. We weren’t allowed to have pens in the dorm on the island.

We weren’t allowed to have anything sharp.

I never had anything sharp…but I had something I shouldn’t. That porcelain plate—that plate that I could have broken and used as a weapon. The plate I hid under my mattress.

A figurative punch to my already cramped gut.

I remember that plate.

And I remember what it cost me.

Diamond comes for me early one morning.

“Katelyn.” She rouses me out of bed. “Katelyn, you need to get up. Now.”

“Why what’s going on?”

“Apparently you were hiding something under your mattress. One of the housekeepers found it.”

My heart drops to my belly. The plate. “It’s been there for… I don’t know. Months?” I never really know what time it is around here, or what day for that matter.

“We can usually trust these people, but apparently someone new cleaned your room yesterday. Usually the housekeepers come to me, and I do my best to protect you girls. But this time…”

“This time…what?” I squeeze the back of my neck. Already goosebumps are forming all over my flesh. Fear. Unadulterated fear.

“What else can they do to me that they haven’t already done?” I ask Diamond.

Later, I find out.

“Then describe it,” I say. “Describe the whole thing.”

“I think I already did. I never actually saw it in its entirety. Emily had a picture. A photograph. She sent it to me. That’s why I have it on my phone. But who knows what they did with my phone?”

“I don’t have a photo, but I’ll never forget it. It was…beautiful in its way. I’m not really into ink, but it worked on him.”

“I see.”

“He didn’t show it to me for a while. He always wore long sleeves. In fact, the first time we ever—”

I gasp.

“What?”

“The first time we were…intimate. He wore a long-sleeved shirt.”

“And you didn’t think that was a little odd?”

“In retrospect, yes. But I had my own scars I was hiding as well.”

“You poor thing.”

“They’re mostly on my back. I had it a lot easier than some of the women on the island.”

“Sweetheart, none of you had it easy.”

“You’re right.” I gulp. “And now that you mention it, yes, the fact that he wore long sleeves when we made love—” I clasp my hands to my mouth.

“It’s okay. I hate the fact that he was anywhere near you, but if we’re going to get through this, you have to be completely honest with me.”

“Okay.” I nod. “Yes, the long sleeves were weird. I suppose you think it’s strange that I didn’t really consider that at the time. But I… I never imagined feeling the way I felt when I was with him. He was so kind and gentle.”

Buck’s eyebrows rise.

“I mean it. I’ve never been with anyone as kind as Luke.”

My words are ridiculous, of course. My experience with men was limited to high school and the island, so really I don’t know anything.

“Black and red are the two main colors,” I say, closing my eyes and visualizing Luke’s left arm. “The first time I met him, at the restaurant, I noticed the black and red swirls on his left hand. He was wearing long sleeves, so I had no idea what they led to, but it was clear that they were the ending of something. I didn’t recognize the design. I’m not really that well-versed in design. But I can say it looked more tribal than Celtic, if that makes any sense.”


Tags: Helen Hardt Fantasy