Untouched (Untouched #1)(Old Work)

Chapter Twenty

His touch against her skin left her veins feeling as if they were carrying icy water, complete with shards of ice. She looked away, trying to get away from his fingers but they followed. They were inescapable, they were like magnets.

"Hans Grey can't protect everyone," he laughed. "Oh, look at you. Helpless and so exquisite." His eyes were gentle, and longing.

"You're a monster," she spat, the projectile landing near his shoes. "You are a monster!"

Rolland and Lucien look at each other, trading amusement between them. And then Lucien changed his gaze back to Ellen. His eyes were menacing and haunting however, his voice was sweet and sing-song; what you would expect of two long-time lovers.

"Tell me, dear Ellen. Why am I a monster?" He folded his arms and displaced his weight to one leg. He waited, his robe blowing in a small breeze. She cursed within herself that such a lovely day seemed to be mocking the dire event unfolding in front of them.

She tried to fight the hold Rolland had over her again but still no luck. He didn't even flinch or acknowledge that she was trying.

"My dearest, fighting against Ranger is pointless and your effort is best saved. He's one of the best Necromancers we have. He's our equivalent to your Hans. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, that's right. Why am I a monster?"

She swallowed, not wanting to answer someone as despicable as him. But she did so anyway. "You kill innocent people, you rip apart families, and you thrive on death. Need I go on?"

They both laughed again, the laughter infuriating Ellen. He was a cold hearted murderer. How could he find humour in such a thing?

"You are so naïve. We are trying to advance our kind and everyone who we deal with seems bent on stopping our progress. Is it that wrong to want to progress from something that we remained at for as long as records have been kept? Is it?" He reached his arms out, like he was welcoming guests to a house party, a house party that had figures of death as guests and torture as a main meal.

"Look at the mortals – look at them. We are no different to them! They rape; they pillage, they kill their own kind in the name of progress. They even damage their environment on which they rely on; they damage the hand that feeds. Now, tell me that we are worse."

Ellen knew that he had her cornered with a solid argument. Everything that he had said rung true.

"See," he told her, the one word cutting and carving wounds inside her. "We aren't so different."

There was movement behind Lucien as Ranger – the man masked as Rolland – starting shifting on his feet nervously. "My Lord, can I have a private word?"

Lucien cast a glance over to him. "Yes?"

"I really think this should be kept amongst us two without the privy ears of Miss over there." He jabbed his finger in Ellen's direction. Sighing, Lucien walked over to the waiting Ranger who appeared to be getting more and more alert as time drifted by. He bent down so his ear was level with Ranger's lips.

Still within the hold of the man, Ellen couldn't listen in to the conversation. All she could hear was quit whispering, not enough to establish words. The whispering concluded a minute later, Lucien standing back to his full height.

"Ranger, keep tracking. We can make preparations when the time is right. For now, there are people I would like Ellen to meet."

He turned back to face her; his facial emotions, all too sweet. He cleared his throat. "Ellen, I know how much you miss your parents so thought I may be as kind to let you have a moment with them. It may be your last."