Starlit veins

Chapter four

“You look like hell.”

Kaela’s voice sliced through the quiet hum of the coffee shop. Aiden’s hand jerked mid-motion, nearly spilling a stream of espresso onto the counter. He turned, giving her the flattest glare he could manage.

“Good morning to you too,” he muttered, sliding a cup under the nozzle.

Kaela perched on one of the stools by the counter, her legs swinging lazily, though her eyes were sharp as knives. “I mean it. You didn’t sleep, did you?”

The hiss of the steam wand filled the air, but it didn’t drown out her question. Aiden focused on the milk, watching the swirl of white clouds as if they held answers.

“I know that look,” she pressed. “Wide eyes, twitchy hands, jaw set like you’re trying to chew glass. Something happened.”

Aiden gripped the metal pitcher tighter than necessary. His reflection wavered in the stainless steel, pale and tired. “You ever feel like… like you’re being pulled into something you don’t understand? Like you should run, but you can’t?”

That silenced Kaela for a second. She tilted her head, brows knitting, but her voice came out steady. “What did he do?”

“Nothing.” Aiden gave a short, bitter laugh. “And that’s the problem. He doesn’t have to do anything. He just stands there, and it’s like—like gravity forgets what it’s supposed to be doing.”

Kaela leaned closer over the counter, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for him. “Aiden. You have to stay away from him. People who make you feel like that—like you’re drowning—” her gaze sharpened, “they’re dangerous.”

The warning sat heavy between them. Aiden wanted to agree, to nod and let her words become a shield. But the memory of Lucien’s hand brushing his wrist—burning hot despite the cool air—rose unbidden. The way his voice lingered like smoke in Aiden’s ears.

He swallowed. “You don’t understand.”

Kaela’s mouth opened, ready to argue, but the bell above the door chimed.

Aiden froze mid-breath.

Kaela twisted on her stool, already suspicious.

And there he was.

Lucien.

The world seemed to rearrange itself around him as he stepped inside, dressed in black that made his pale skin gleam like porcelain. Calm, precise, carrying an air that made the simple act of walking into a coffee shop feel like a coronation.

Kaela stiffened. Aiden could feel her bristle beside him. But Lucien’s eyes—cool, endless, impossible—found Aiden at once.

“Morning,” Lucien said, his voice smooth, low, carrying an intimacy that should have belonged only in shadows.

Aiden’s throat went dry. He forced himself to nod, gripping the counter for balance. “Coffee?” His voice cracked on the word, betraying him.

Lucien’s lips curved, not quite a smile, but something more dangerous. “If you’ll make it.”

Kaela jumped off the stool, sliding between them like a shield. “We’re closed.”

“We’re not,” Aiden protested under his breath, mortified.

But Lucien didn’t even glance at Kaela. His gaze lingered on Aiden, steady, patient, like he had all the time in the world.

The room felt smaller, the air denser. Aiden’s pulse drummed in his ears.

Kaela’s hand gripped his arm tightly. “Aiden,” she whispered. “Please.”

And for one wild moment, Aiden almost listened. Almost turned his back. But his body betrayed him, leaning just slightly forward, toward the man who shouldn’t exist in his world of lattes and ordinary mornings.

Lucien tilted his head, as though he could hear the storm raging inside him. “We should talk,” he said softly. “Soon.”

Then he turned, the faint scent of rain and iron following him as the door swung shut behind him.

Silence crashed into the shop like a tidal wave.

Kaela’s fingers dug into Aiden’s arm. “What the hell was that?”

Aiden stared at the door, heart racing, knowing he couldn’t explain it even if he tried.

Because how do you explain gravity itself bending to someone’s will?