Shadows between us
1113 Words
Chapter Three – Velvet and Vices
Shadows Between Us
Lucien was gone before morning.
Elara awoke to the lingering scent of him—leather, pine, danger. The sheets were cold, but her skin still hummed with the heat of his kiss. Her fingers brushed her lips as she sat up slowly, mind spinning from what had happened, what he’d said.
A werewolf. Mafia heir. And yet, the way he had looked at her…
Not possession. Not power.
Need.
She tried to convince herself it had been a dream. But the scrape on her elbow from hitting the alley pavement was real. So was the shattered light fixture that had fallen during their rushed embrace. And the bite mark—soft, not cruel—just below her collarbone.
Lucien Vire was real. And so were the forces he had warned her about.
Downstairs, the bookstore owner—an elderly woman named Mina—was stacking books behind the counter, humming an old tune.
“Rough first night in Afair?” she asked without looking up.
Elara froze. “What?”
“You’ve got that look. Like the town already showed you its teeth.” Mina glanced up, squinting through her gold-rimmed glasses. “Afair doesn’t like new blood. Too many eyes. Too many debts.”
Elara tried to smile. “I guess I just got lost.”
Mina chuckled. “Honey, getting lost is the easy part. It’s getting found again that’s tricky.”
The door chimed.
A man walked in—tall, precise, the kind of handsome that felt designed, not born. His hair was dark, slicked back. His suit was charcoal gray. And his eyes—too blue, too cold—locked instantly on Elara.
Mina stiffened.
“Elara Quinn?” he asked politely.
She hesitated. “Yes?”
He extended a hand. “My name is Dominic Vire. Lucien’s brother.”
The name hit her like a gunshot.
Brother?
Dominic smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “May we speak privately?”
Every instinct in her screamed no. But curiosity, that cursed, aching curiosity, won.
Upstairs, Dominic moved like a man who had never been denied a thing in his life. He sat before she offered, and his gaze never once left her.
“You met Lucien last night,” he said calmly. “I’m here to warn you.”
Elara folded her arms. “Warn me? About what?”
“About him.” Dominic’s tone was clipped. “Lucien is not well. He’s unstable. Dangerous. And very, very selfish. Whatever he told you, it was likely half a lie and half a delusion.”
She frowned. “He saved me.”
“Did he?” Dominic tilted his head. “Or did he cause the chaos that nearly got you killed?”
Elara hesitated.
He pressed on. “Lucien has a history of attaching himself to things he thinks will ground him. Last time it was a girl named Celia. She ended up… lost. You don’t want to end up like her.”
The air grew colder.
“I’m not like Celia,” Elara said quietly.
“No,” Dominic agreed. “You’re new. Fresh. A mystery. That’s what draws him. But mysteries get solved. And when they do… they lose their shine.”
Elara clenched her fists. “Why are you really here?”
He leaned back. “Because I see the patterns. Lucien’s obsession will only escalate. The more he feels you slipping away, the harder he’ll hold on. And trust me, Miss Quinn—there’s nothing romantic about being loved by a wolf with nothing left to lose.”
His words slithered into her mind, cold and logical. And yet…
Lucien’s touch had not felt like obsession. It had felt like home.
Dominic stood. “If you’re smart, you’ll leave Afair. Now. I can even help. A new identity. A ticket out. No questions asked.”
She stared at him. “Why do you hate him so much?”
His expression flickered. “Because I know the real Lucien. And I know what he’s capable of. You don’t.”
He left without waiting for her answer.
The door closed. The silence was deafening.
That night, sleep evaded her.
She dreamt of fire.
A girl screaming.
A silver blade.
And Lucien—his mouth stained red, his eyes wild, torn between love and madness.
When she woke, her window was open, though she swore she’d shut it. A shadow lingered at the edge of the rooftop across from hers before vanishing into the dark.
The next morning, a note slipped under her door read:
"Come to the woods at dusk. Alone. —L"
Her heart galloped.
She went.
The forest near the edge of Afair was ancient and dense, trees rising like watchmen. The mist seemed thicker here, more sentient. Every snap of a twig made her jump.
Then he was there.
Lucien stepped from the shadows like he belonged to them. Shirt unbuttoned at the throat, eyes burning with something deeper than anger.
“Dominic came to see you,” he said.
Elara nodded slowly. “He said you’d get me killed.”
Lucien smiled, bitter. “He’s not wrong.”
“I don’t care.”
He stopped. “You should.”
“Then give me a reason.”
He was in front of her in two strides, his hands on her waist, his forehead against hers.
“I can’t stay away from you,” he whispered. “But everyone else wants to tear us apart. My family, your fear, my blood. This isn’t a fairy tale, Elara. I’m not the hero. I’m the thing heroes try to kill.”
“Then don’t pretend,” she said. “Be real. I’d rather face a monster who loves me than a prince who lies.”
He looked at her then—truly looked. And for the first time, she saw pain. Ancient and deep. Regret wrapped in centuries of solitude.
“You’re not supposed to exist,” he murmured. “Not in my story.”
“Then maybe your story just changed.”
And she kissed him—harder this time, fiercer. As if daring fate to intervene.
But far above them, behind a veil of leaves, Dominic Vire watched with narrowed eyes.
He pulled out a phone.
“Plan B,” he said. “Bring her in. And if Lucien interferes…”
A pause.
“…kill him.”
Down in the clearing, the moon broke through the mist, casting silver over skin and sin.
The wolf inside Lucien stirred, and Elara…
She didn’t run.
She reached for him.
And the war, though unseen, had already begun.
- Writer
