THREAD OF DESIRE

Chapter 15 – Lines That Shouldn’t Cross

POV: Daelen Pryce

Daelen didn’t wait for permission. He never did.

The moment Irian stepped out of the lecture hall, Daelen fell into step beside him, casual in appearance but sharp in intent.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said smoothly, his voice low enough to brush against Irian’s ear.

Irian stiffened, his grip on his bag tightening. “I don’t owe you an answer.”

Daelen chuckled, leaning close. “That’s where you’re wrong. You do owe me. For all the times I looked past you, all the times I let you exist quietly in the corner without anyone tearing you apart. Don’t pretend you don’t notice the way people look at you. The way they underestimate you.”

Irian’s steps faltered. He hated that Daelen’s words touched a nerve. Hated that there was truth buried beneath the arrogance.

Daelen noticed. He always noticed. His smile curved, wolfish. “See? I know you better than you think. And I’ll keep pressing until you see me too.”

Irian turned sharply, finally facing him, his calm eyes like steel. “You don’t want me. You just want revenge.”

For the first time, Daelen’s smirk faltered. But only for a second. He leaned in, invading Irian’s space, his voice a whisper against his skin.

“Revenge or not, you’ll still end up mine.”

---

POV: Lucian Mareis

The rooftop was quiet except for the hum of the city below. Lucian leaned against the railing, cold wind biting his skin. He needed air—needed distance from the walls closing in.

Behind him, footsteps approached. He didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Nareth said. His tone wasn’t sharp—it was worse. It was heavy. Wounded.

Lucian forced a steady breath. “I’ve been tired.”

“That’s not it.” Nareth moved closer, until his presence pressed like heat against Lucian’s back. “You’re lying. And I’m done pretending not to notice.”

Lucian’s chest tightened. He gripped the railing, knuckles white. Say it. Tell him. Before the lie swallows you whole.

But when he finally turned to face him, the words tangled in his throat. Because Nareth was looking at him with eyes that burned—eyes that demanded answers but held something softer too, something that felt dangerously close to longing.

“Lucian…” Nareth’s voice dropped, raw. “Whatever this is—you don’t have to carry it alone. Let me in.”

Lucian’s heart stuttered. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But if he did, everything would unravel. The soul inside this body wasn’t the Lucian Nareth was begging to save.

So instead, he whispered the only thing he could manage.

“I can’t.”

The word cracked between them, fragile and final.

Nareth’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He didn’t push further. He just turned away, shoulders stiff, walking back toward the stairwell.

Lucian watched him go, every step tearing something vital out of him.

And for the first time, he realized the truth:

Keeping this secret wasn’t just killing him. It was killing them both.