The Touch That Wasn’t Kind
564 Words
She should’ve run.
When Aria entered the North Wing, part of her knew she’d crossed a line. But the girl in the shadows had begged her, whispered her lies like poisoned lullabies, and now she couldn’t unhear them.
Lucien stood in front of her now—tall, silent, the note he left on her pillow still crumpled in her trembling fist.
His eyes didn’t flicker. He was too calm.
Which made it worse.
“Why did you go there?” he asked softly.
“I had a right to know!” Aria snapped, her voice tight. “You kidnapped me! You locked someone up! And you act like I should be thankful?”
Lucien’s jaw ticked. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
“You don’t understand,” he said through his teeth.
“Then make me understand!” she shouted.
Silence.
Then he stepped forward.
Not fast. Not aggressive. But it was the kind of step that made the air thicken and Aria’s breath freeze in her lungs.
“You want truth?” he asked, his voice lower now. “You think it’ll make you feel safer?”
He stopped in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze.
“I’ve given you food. Clothes. Safety,” he murmured. “And all you’ve done is fight me.”
“I never asked for any of it,” she whispered.
Something snapped in him then.
Lucien’s hand came up—fast—but didn’t strike.
Instead, he cupped her jaw, tilting her face up. The grip was firm, fingers cold against her burning skin.
“Then let me give you something you didn’t ask for,” he said darkly.
And then—he kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle.
It wasn’t soft.
His mouth crashed onto hers like a storm hitting the sea—urgent, possessive, filled with something twisted and desperate. His hand slid behind her neck, pulling her closer, deeper, until her breath disappeared between their lips.
Her fingers gripped his shirt instinctively—not in desire, but to push him back.
But he didn’t stop.
His body pressed against hers, pinning her lightly to the edge of the bed. One hand stayed tangled in her hair, the other grazing the curve of her waist, finding the thin fabric of her nightdress.
The moment his fingers slid under the hem, something inside Aria cracked.
“Don’t,” she breathed against his mouth.
He paused. Just a beat.
But his hand didn’t stop.
“Lucien—” Her voice broke.
And then, suddenly—she started to cry.
Not loud. Not screaming. Just quiet tears that slipped down her cheeks as she turned her face away from his lips.
The sound shattered him.
He froze.
Completely.
His breath was uneven. His hands dropped. And for the first time since she’d met him… Lucien looked shaken.
He stepped back slowly, eyes locked on hers.
“…I didn’t mean to—” he started, but the words fell dead in the air.
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t make excuses.
He just stood there, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling like he was drowning.
Aria wiped her cheek, her lips still tingling from the kiss.
Lucien looked at her one last time.
Then turned away and left without a word, slamming the door behind him.
- Writer
