THREAD OF DESIRE

Chapter 11 – Shadows Behind the Curtain

POV: Lucian Vale

The music pulsed in the practice room, but it didn’t reach Lucian’s ears. Every step felt heavier than it should. His body healed, yes, but not his heart. He caught Nareth watching him again, gaze sharp and unrelenting, as though peeling away the mask he wore.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Lucian muttered under his breath, turning away.

“Then stop pretending,” Nareth shot back, voice low, a coil of anger and desperation.

Lucian froze. Pretending. The word stung because it was true. Every smile, every half-assured movement, every “I’m fine” he fed them—it was all lies. He wanted to scream, to break, to tell Nareth everything. But the walls he had built were high, and if they crumbled, so would he.

Their eyes locked again, tension thick as storm clouds. And yet, instead of closing the gap, Lucian stepped back. Distance was safer than confession.

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POV: Taviel Knox

Backstage was chaos—stylists shouting, assistants running, the smell of hairspray thick in the air. Taviel sat in the corner, hands folded too tightly in his lap, waiting for the moment Arwyn would slip through the door.

He didn’t wait long. Arwyn entered, soft smile curving his lips, eyes finding Taviel immediately. The room was full, yet for a heartbeat, it was only the two of them.

“Ten minutes,” Arwyn murmured, settling into the chair beside him. His hand rested on Taviel’s knee for just a second, a fleeting touch hidden beneath a jacket draped carelessly over them both.

“Reckless,” Taviel whispered, though his pulse quickened at the warmth.

Arwyn’s eyes glimmered with something dangerous. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m tired of pretending.”

The words lodged in Taviel’s chest like a promise he wasn’t sure he could handle. Cameras, contracts, managers—everything about their world was built to crush moments like this. And yet, he wanted it. Wanted him.

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POV: Nareth Sol

Later, as the rehearsal wrapped, Nareth stormed out, frustration boiling over. He hated watching Lucian fold into himself, hated the walls, the silence.

And then—his phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number:

“You want to know why he’s hiding? Meet me. Midnight. Don’t bring anyone.”

Nareth’s blood ran cold. His first thought was trap. His second thought was Lucian.

And despite every alarm bell ringing in his head, he knew he’d go.

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