Growing feelings
1182 Words
Anara.
I slipped my hand into his without a word. His palm was warm, steady — commanding in a way that didn’t need force. Lucien didn’t speak either, just guided me wordlessly back to the dance floor, where the music had softened into something slow and haunting.
He placed one hand on my waist, the other still holding mine. We swayed gently among the glittering lights and masked guests, but it felt like the room had dimmed around just us.
He was staring.
Not glancing, not watching — staring.
And not in the cold, calculated way he often did when reading people like puzzles. This was different. This look... lingered. Like he’d seen something he hadn’t expected.
I tilted my head, brows slightly furrowed. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
He didn’t blink.
Then — “You’re beautiful.”
I froze. My breath hitched in my throat.
Lucien had never said that to me. Not directly. Not without sarcasm or shadows behind his words. But now... he meant it. Fully. Honestly.
And damn my traitor cheeks — I felt the heat rise immediately, warm and prickling under my skin.
I looked away, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too much. “That’s the first nice thing you’ve said to me without an insult wrapped around it.”
His hand gently tightened around mine. “Doesn’t mean it hasn’t always been true.”
My gaze snapped back to his.
And there it was — that rare softness in his eyes. No mask. No defense. Just Lucien. Real, vulnerable, and completely dangerous in a different way now.
My chest tightened.
I didn’t know what this meant. Not yet. But I knew I wasn’t ready to run from it either.
The music slowly faded and we went to where everyone had gathered.
I guess the event was coming to an end. Finally.
The clinking of glasses faded into a collective hush as the host of the gala — a tall man with a hawk-like gaze and an aura too polished to be innocent — stood up, his voice loud and proud.
“A toast,” he called out, lifting his glass high, “to peace among our kind. To old grudges buried and new alliances born!
The crowd echoed him, raising their drinks, murmuring agreement.
I smiled faintly, watching the flurry of glittering gowns and sharp suits. But then the man's voice sharpened.
“And…” he added with a twisted grin, “a toast to the long-lost Hybrid King — the one who has at last been unsealed.”
The crowd shifted.
Lucien's expression didn't shift. It was just his usual blank look, maybe even bored.
“Word spreads quickly,” the man went on, looking directly at us, “that the lady on your arm tonight is no ordinary witch. That she is the one who shattered the seal… the one who woke you, Lucien.”
His eyes glittered with provocation. “Even from here, we can feel it. That ancient, raw magic clinging to her like a second skin.”
The air turned heavy, thick with curiosity and suspicion.
My throat dried. Eyes bored into me, some awed, others wary… a few, even hostile.
But Lucien?
He didn’t flinch.
He lifted his glass slowly — deliberately — and the crowd leaned in.
“If you can feel the power in her presence,” he said, his voice calm and laced with danger, “then you already have your answer.”
The man blinked, taken aback.
Lucien stepped forward, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade wrapped in velvet.
“But be careful what you toast to.”
“Power like hers wasn’t made to amuse small minds or fill empty cups.”
A few gasps whispered through the room.
Lucien turned to me then, his tone slightly softer, yet fiercely protective:
“She’s under my protection.”
“That alone should be enough.”
He drank slowly — like he owned the room — and silence hung for a beat too long.
Then Silas’ quiet laugh broke through the tension, low and amused.
“There he goes again. Doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t confirm it. Just dares the world to try.”
Darius only smiled faintly, eyes scanning the room for anyone stupid enough to take that dare.
I, still frozen, felt my cheeks flush. My fingers gripped my gown, unsure whether to feel proud… or panicked.
The murmurs returned, some glancing at me with something close to reverence, others with suspicion — but no one, no one, said another word aloud.
And Lucien?
He stood still beside me, cold and unreadable — but his presence curled around me like a shield of fire.
*********
The manor was quiet when we returned. The silence wrapped around me like a familiar blanket, a stark contrast to the glittering energy of the gala. I let out a breath i didn’t know I'd been holding as Eira carefully unpinned my hair and helped me out of the gown.
Warm water filled the tub, steam curling into the air as Eira guided me in. The scent of lavender and crushed herbs floated around me. I closed my eyes and leaned back, letting the night melt off my skin.
Later, seated on a cushioned stool, I allowed Eira to gently oil my scalp and run her fingers through the damp strands of my hair.
“So,” Eira said with a smile that teased at the corners of her lips, “how was the event? Did you have fun?”
I smiled faintly. “It was… nice. Being out of the manor for a while.”
Eira raised a brow, clearly waiting for more. “And did Master Lucien take good care of you?”
My cheeks warmed, my mind replaying our dance—the way his hand had held my waist, how his eyes didn’t stray once, and most of all… the moment he told me i was beautiful. It had been so sudden, so honest.
“Yes,” i said softly. “He did.”
Eira grinned to herself and rose. “Well, that’s all I needed to hear. Get some sleep, my lady. You look like you’ve had quite the night.”
When Eira left, the room dimmed to candlelight. I pulled the covers over myself, but sleep didn’t come easily. My mind was too full.
Lucien.
His voice.
His stare.
The possessive way he moved through a crowd as if no one else mattered but me.
I tossed to the side, staring out the window, as the moon graced us all with its beautiful light.
Was i… falling for him?
I pressed a hand to my chest. That couldn’t be. He was dangerous. Cold. A hybrid king forged in blood and secrets.
But tonight, he’d held me like i was made of glass. He’d told me i was beautiful, and he’d meant it.
I exhaled shakily, as if admitting even to myself would make it real.
And deep down… maybe it already was.
- Writer
