🌑 Chapter 13 — The Confession
523 Words
The next day, Elena felt hollow.
Every corner of Ravencourt seemed haunted — not by ghosts, but by the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way his hunger had burned against her skin. She couldn’t forget it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.
By evening, she found herself back at the library. The bond tugged her there, she was certain of it. She told herself she came for answers, but deep down she knew the truth: she was looking for him.
And he was there.
Lucien sat by the tall windows, the same book from before open in his lap. He didn’t look surprised to see her, only tired — as if every breath he took was a battle.
“You should hate me,” he said quietly, before she could speak.
“I don’t,” she answered without hesitation.
His lips curved, not quite a smile, more like pain. “Then you don’t know enough yet.”
She stepped closer, her heart steady despite the storm inside her. “Then tell me.”
Lucien’s gaze lifted, gray eyes dark with old shadows. “You want the truth? Fine. You’re not the first.”
Elena froze. “What do you mean?”
He set the book aside and rose, moving toward the shelves as though the words came easier when he wasn’t looking at her.
“Every hundred years, the Crimson Moon rises. The bond awakens. And someone like you appears — marked, chosen, tied to me by blood and fate.” His voice hardened. “And every time, it ends the same way.”
Her throat tightened. “With death.”
Lucien turned, meeting her gaze. “Yes. Their blood spilled to feed the curse, their life burned out before mine. I held them. I tried to fight it. And still… I watched them die.”
Elena’s heart ached. “How many?”
His jaw clenched. “Three.”
The word landed heavy, final.
He stepped closer now, slow, deliberate, his voice low. “That’s why I can’t have you, Elena. That’s why I tried to push you away. I won’t watch it happen again.”
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “But what if it doesn’t end the same way this time?”
He reached for her, stopping just shy of touching. His hand hovered near her cheek, trembling. “Hope is the cruelest lie of all.”
For a moment, the silence stretched — thick, aching. And then Elena closed the distance, pressing his hand to her skin.
“Then lie to me,” she whispered.
His breath caught. His eyes glowed faint crimson, torn between fear and longing.
“Elena…” He said her name like a warning, like a vow.
And though he didn’t kiss her, though his lips never touched her, the way he looked at her then felt more intimate than any embrace.
As if she was already his, and he was already lost.
Outside, the crimson moon swelled higher, flooding Ravencourt in its blood-red light.
And in the shadows of the forest, Darius watched the library window, his smile sharp as a blade.
- Writer
