The plates clinked softly against the porcelain tabletop. The scent of the food filled the air, and even the wine seemed to flow deeper as it swirled lazily in the glasses. Over the steaming bite on the tip of the fork, Lucian’s and Andromeda’s eyes met again—quietly, in mutual calm.
"Are we really going to cook every time if this is how the dinners end?" Andy asked, a shy but genuine smile tugging at her lips.
"If it means I get to see your defenses melt off your face every time," Lucian replied softly, "then yes."
He was just about to sip his wine when the moment stretched. Something changed. A buzzing.
At first, it was only a faint vibration in the distant background, like a bad feeling creeping under the skin. Then it grew stronger. Deeper, harsher—like a chainsaw revving close to
