Bruised lips,buried lies
650 Words
Chapter Nine: Bruised Lips, Buried Lies
Saraphina woke with fire on her lips.
Not literal flames — but the memory of him. Of the way Lucian’s mouth had claimed hers like a war. The way his touch had made her forget every reason she hated him.
She sat up in bed, her silk sheets tangled around her legs, heart still thudding in her chest. The early morning sun crept in through the curtains, soft and golden. But nothing about her felt calm.
Because last night happened.
And Lucian hadn’t said a single word since.
He had kissed her like she was oxygen — like he hated her, like he needed her — then vanished. No note. No message. No knock at her door.
Now, it felt like a dream wrapped in guilt and gasoline.
She reached for her phone. Still nothing.
> What did you expect?
He’s a killer, not a lover.
But then again… wasn’t she starting to wonder if she liked the danger?
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Downstairs, Lucian poured whiskey into his morning coffee like he needed something to numb the hurricane in his chest.
His hands weren’t shaking — not outwardly. But inside?
He was unraveling.
> You kissed her.
You touched her.
You wanted more.
That wasn’t part of the plan. This marriage was supposed to be a game — a mask. A way to slip inside enemy lines and rip the Devereux legacy apart from the inside.
But Saraphina was no pawn.
She was fire in a silk dress. Kindness wrapped in steel. A woman who looked like sin but bled loyalty, pain, and truth.
He had meant to use her.
Now he wasn’t so sure he could hurt her at all.
And that made her the most dangerous thing of all — a distraction with a soul.
He stared into the dark coffee like it might offer him answers.
Instead, he heard footsteps.
And then, her voice.
“You’re avoiding me,” Saraphina said from the doorway.
Lucian didn’t turn. “I’m thinking.”
“Oh, good. Let me know when you figure out how to talk like a human being again.”
He smirked despite himself. That fire of hers — she wielded it so effortlessly.
She stepped closer, her heels clicking like a warning.
“Last night,” she said, folding her arms. “Do we talk about it? Or pretend it never happened?”
Lucian finally looked at her.
God, she looked lethal in that simple black dress. Hair pinned back. Diamond earrings. Eyes sharp with emotion she was too proud to beg him to understand.
“It shouldn’t have happened,” he said, voice low. “It complicates things.”
“No,” she said, her voice quiet but fierce. “It changes things.”
He stood up slowly, walking toward her.
“It changes nothing, Gem,” he said. “I’m still who I am. You’re still who you are. And this marriage is still a cage.”
She flinched slightly — just enough for him to see.
But then she straightened.
“No,” she said, stepping closer. “The cage isn’t the marriage, Lucian. It’s the past. And if you don’t stop hiding in it, you’ll lose more than revenge.”
Lucian’s eyes darkened. “Don’t pretend to know me.”
“I don’t,” she whispered. “But I know pain. And I know what it feels like when you finally touch something that doesn’t hurt.”
They stared at each other.
The air thick with words neither of them could say.
Then Lucian turned away.
“You should leave before I ruin you.”
She walked toward him, close enough for their arms to brush.
“You already did,” she whispered. “And yet I’m still here.”
Then she walked out.
And for the first time in a very long time…
Lucian wished she hadn’t
- Writer
