CHAPTER 12 — His Shadow On Her Skin
870 Words
The next time Mirabel woke, the room was darker—lit only by a dim lamp glowing in the corner. For a moment, she thought she was alone.
Then she saw him.
Adrian sat in the same chair beside her bed, but this time he wasn’t watching her.
He was asleep.
Or… something close to it. His head leaned back, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. His suit jacket hung open, revealing a black fitted shirt stretched across his chest. His legs were crossed, one arm resting casually across the armrest while the other lay on the bed—dangerously close to her hand.
Mirabel stared, breath silent.
No normal man should look that powerful even in rest.
She swallowed, forcing herself to look away, but her gaze drifted back.
Why was he here?
Why stay all night?
Why protect her so fiercely when he didn’t even know her?
Unless he did know her.
Her heartbeat quickened.
As if sensing her, Adrian’s eyes snapped open.
No laziness. No confusion.
Just instant awareness.
His gaze dropped to her hand—then her face—then he leaned forward.
“You’re awake,” he said, voice low and warm, like velvet brushed against her skin.
Mirabel shifted nervously. “Yes… um… Adrian, you really didn’t have to stay.”
A single brow lifted. “I told you I don’t leave what I’ve chosen.”
Her stomach fluttered uncontrollably. She looked away, trying to calm her racing pulse.
“But… I’m not yours,” she whispered.
Silence.
A deep, heavy silence.
Adrian stood slowly, his presence sweeping over her like a shadow that knew her shape.
He moved to her bedside and placed his hand on the bed railing—caging her in without touching her.
His voice dropped to a whisper near her ear.
“Not yet.”
Her breath lodged in her throat.
“Why are you doing this?” Mirabel whispered, her voice trembling. “You don’t know what happened to me. You don’t know what I’ve been through.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. His eyes softened—but only for her.
“Then tell me.”
Mirabel’s chest squeezed. The memories were knives—sharp, fresh, cruel. She turned her face away.
“I—”
The slap.
The lies.
The betrayal.
Esther’s poison…
Her voice cracked. “I don’t want to remember.”
Adrian reached out slowly, giving her time to pull back. When she didn’t, he brushed his fingertips along her cheek—so gentle she almost cried. His touch was warm, firm, grounding.
“Mirabel,” he murmured, “whatever broke you… I’ll fix it.”
Her tears gathered, stinging her eyes.
“You don’t even know me,” she whispered again.
This time, Adrian’s throat moved as he swallowed something deep.
“I know more than you think.”
Her heartbeat stuttered. “What do you mean?”
He straightened, walking toward the window. The lamplight framed his silhouette—broad shoulders, tall figure, quiet strength.
“Your body reacted to my touch,” he said softly. “Your heartbeat changed the moment I stepped into this room.”
Mirabel froze.
How… how did he know that?
Adrian turned, his eyes glowing with something unreadable—something almost dangerous.
“I hear everything,” he murmured. “Your fear… your pain… and now—your pull to me.”
Mirabel gripped the sheets. “Adrian… that’s not possible.”
He stepped closer again, stopping just inches from her bed.
“Mirabel,” he whispered, “I’m not like other men.”
That statement hung in the air, electrifying.
Before she could ask another question, a nurse burst into the room, breathing hard.
“Miss Mirabel—someone came asking for your ward number. A woman.”
Mirabel’s blood ran cold.
Esther.
She found her.
Adrian’s expression changed instantly—his entire presence darkening like a storm cloud.
“What did she look like?” he asked.
The nurse swallowed. “Pretty. Fair. Smiling. Said she was family.”
Mirabel grabbed Adrian’s sleeves, panic shooting through her.
“No—don’t let her in. Adrian—please!”
Adrian bent slightly, cupping her cheek with his warm palm.
“You’re safe,” he said, but this time his voice was steel. “No one touches you.”
Then he turned to the nurse.
“Tell security no visitors are allowed except me,” he commanded, voice dangerously calm.
The nurse nodded quickly and fled.
Mirabel’s chest heaved, shaking. “Adrian, she’s trying to kill me. She’ll—she’ll finish it—”
Adrian leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers.
Their breaths mingled.
Heat surged through her chest.
“Mirabel,” he whispered, “I will not let her near you. I don’t lose.”
His fingers brushed her jaw, slow and possessive.
“And no one takes what’s mine.”
Her lips parted. “I’m… not yours.”
His eyes flickered to her lips—dark, intense, claiming.
“Not yet,” he repeated huskily.
Mirabel’s heart stopped.
And in the hallway, quiet footsteps echoed…
Getting closer.
Esther was here.
And Adrian Volkov was about to show the world exactly what he was.
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- Writer
