Starlit veins

Chapter three

Aiden woke with the taste of smoke in his mouth. He had not smoked a day in his life, yet the phantom tang lingered as if he had been breathing someone else’s air all night. His sheets were twisted around his legs, damp with sweat. Every time he closed his eyes he saw silver—Lucien’s gaze cutting through the shadows, Lucien’s voice brushing over his skin like velvet and ash.

He dragged himself out of bed and into the shower, hoping the scalding water would wash away the restless night. It didn’t. By the time he stumbled into the shop to open for the morning, Kaela was already there, leaning against the counter with two coffees.

She looked him over with narrowed eyes. “You look like you spent the night fighting demons.”

“Something like that,” he muttered.

“Or you spent the night thinking about tall, dark, and creepy.” She pushed the coffee toward him. “Don’t bother denying it.”

He grimaced, but the warmth of the cup against his hands felt grounding. “He showed up. Out of nowhere. Just… walked in.”

Kaela’s expression darkened. “Yeah. I saw.”

“He’s not—” Aiden faltered. What was Lucien? He had no words for it. Too polished to be a drifter, too strange to be ordinary, too magnetic to be safe. “I don’t know what he wants.”

Kaela tapped her fingers against the counter. “People like him always want something. And it’s never good.”

Aiden sipped the bitter coffee, hoping it would give him an answer. It didn’t. Kaela was right to be suspicious. Lucien unsettled him, and yet he found himself wishing for another glimpse of him. The contradiction made his skin itch.

Kaela studied him, softer now. “I don’t like how he looks at you.”

“How does he look at me?”

“Like you’re prey.”

The word sank into him, heavy and sharp. Prey. He wanted to laugh, but it lodged in his chest.

The day crept by in fits of customers and silence. Kaela stayed longer than usual, keeping her eyes sharp on the door as though she expected Lucien to stroll back in. By the time she left, dusk had already crept over the city, bruising the sky purple.

Aiden lingered to close up the shop. He swept the floor, counted the till, straightened the displays with mechanical precision. The bell above the door did not ring. No footsteps disturbed the stillness. Relief tangled with disappointment in his stomach.

He stepped outside into the cooling night air, locking the door behind him. The street was mostly empty, the lamps buzzing faintly overhead. He walked slowly, listening to the city’s nocturnal hum—distant sirens, a motorcycle revving, the muffled thump of music leaking from a bar two blocks over.

By the time he reached the river, the air had cooled enough to raise goosebumps along his arms. He stopped at the railing, staring down at the water. The current whispered softly, reflecting the fractured lights of the city. It reminded him of that night—Lucien’s voice beneath the hum of the river, his presence folding around Aiden until it felt like there was no air left.

“You came back.”

The voice slid through the dark like silk.

Aiden spun, heart leaping into his throat. Lucien stood a few paces away, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. The silver of his eyes caught the lamplight, gleaming unnaturally.

“You can’t just keep showing up wherever I am,” Aiden said, trying to sound steady.

Lucien stepped closer, not hurried, not hesitant, simply certain. “And yet, here you are. Waiting.”

“I wasn’t waiting.”

“You were.” Lucien’s lips curved, the barest ghost of a smile. “And you don’t know why.”

Aiden hated the truth of it. He wanted to snap back, to shove Lucien’s certainty into the river, but his tongue felt heavy.

Lucien’s gaze softened, a strange contrast to the sharpness of his words. “You feel it too, don’t you? That pull.”

“Pull?”

“Between us.”

The space shrank. Aiden could smell him now—something dark, metallic, and intoxicating, like rain on stone mixed with smoke. His pulse stuttered.

“I don’t even know you,” Aiden whispered.

“You will.”

Before Aiden could respond, a noise split the night. A shuffle, quick and sharp, coming from the shadows beneath the bridge. Aiden turned, pulse spiking. Figures emerged—three of them, draped in coats too heavy for the season, faces half-hidden. They moved with purpose, too silent, too in sync.

“Friends of yours?” Aiden asked, though his voice shook.

Lucien’s expression shifted, the faintest flicker of something hard and ancient cutting through the smooth mask. “No.”

The figures drew closer. Aiden took a step back, his heel hitting the railing. Panic flared. “What do they want?”

Lucien moved, stepping between Aiden and the strangers. His presence expanded, filling the night with a pressure that made the air crackle. The men hesitated, as if meeting resistance Aiden could not see.

One of them hissed a word in a language Aiden didn’t recognize. The sound of it prickled against his skin, wrong, like static under his flesh.

Lucien’s voice was low, almost too soft to hear. “Go back. You don’t belong here.”

The figures froze. For a moment, it seemed they might retreat. Then one lunged forward.

Aiden barely had time to flinch.

Lucien moved with inhuman speed, intercepting the attacker in a blur. Aiden blinked and the man was crumpled on the ground, groaning, Lucien’s hand wrapped around his throat. His eyes burned with a light that was not natural, not human.

The others staggered back, fear flashing in their movements. They melted into the shadows as quickly as they had appeared, leaving their companion behind.

Lucien released the man, who scrambled up and fled without a backward glance.

Silence descended again, broken only by the rush of the river.

Aiden’s breath came fast and shallow. He stared at Lucien, the image of that impossible movement etched into his mind.

“What are you?” he whispered.

Lucien turned slowly, his eyes dimming back to silver. For a moment, his mask slipped, revealing something vast and dangerous beneath.

“Not your enemy,” he said.

The words should have soothed, but they didn’t. They only deepened the ache of questions in Aiden’s chest.

Lucien stepped closer, and Aiden didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“You shouldn’t be afraid of me,” Lucien murmured. “Not you.”

Aiden swallowed, throat dry. “Then why do I feel like I should be?”

Lucien’s smile was soft and devastating all at once. “Because some part of you already knows the truth.”

He reached out, fingertips brushing against Aiden’s wrist. Heat flared at the contact, racing up his arm, settling in his chest. Aiden’s breath caught.

Then Lucien was gone. Just like that—one moment present, the next melted into the night, leaving only the echo of touch behind.

Aiden gripped the railing hard, staring at the river. His heart hammered, his skin buzzed, and his mind screamed with the impossible truth he could no longer ignore.

Lucien was not human.

And yet, Aiden could not stay away.