CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A BOLD MOVE
1249 Words
The air was thick that evening—not just with the cool weight of dusk settling over the castle grounds, but with something unspoken lingering between Aurelia and Lucien. A charged tension that clung to the walls, laced through every glance, every silence, every time her eyes found his across the shadowy corners of the sprawling manor.
Dinner was quiet, as usual.
the head maid, served them, and her presence was barely noticed. Aurelia sat at the long table opposite Lucien, hands folded in her lap, eyes drawn to the way candlelight danced across his features. The man—if he could still be called that—was too perfect in form, yet carved from something ancient and dark, like obsidian left to cool in the depths of the underworld.
He didn’t speak.
But he watched her. He always watched her.
When she stood and left the table after the final course, she felt it—the unmistakable sensation of his gaze following her like a brand pressed into her back.
She didn’t head to her room.
Not this time.
Instead, she doubled back, her soft slippers making no sound on the cold floors. The castle’s hallway was long and grand, but quiet, and for a moment, she wondered if she was walking into her own destruction.
Maybe she was.
But she didn’t stop.
She pushed open the large double doors of his chamber without knocking.
Lucien was by the window, glass of red liquid in hand, one arm propped casually on the frame. The moonlight—an eerie red crescent—bled through the glass, casting his profile in stark shadow.
He didn’t turn.
But he knew.
“I told you not to come back,” he said coldly.
Aurelia stepped in, closing the door behind her. “I don’t care.”
He chuckled, though the sound lacked humor. “You should. I’m not known for my mercy.”
“I know,” she said. “But I’m not here for mercy.”
That made him turn. Slowly. The way a predator might turn to size up the creature daring to intrude upon its den.
His eyes glowed faintly—crimson, smoldering. “Then what are you here for?”
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she walked forward, slowly, carefully, until she was standing in front of him again. His body was tense—shoulders rigid, jaw clenched.
Her heart thundered, but she didn't let it stop her. She had lived too long in fear.
Tonight, she would choose boldness.
“I think,” she said softly, “I came here to do something very foolish.”
Lucien tilted his head, amused. “Oh?”
And before he could pull away—before he could give one of his many sharp, poisonous warnings—she rose on her toes and kissed him.
It wasn’t a hungry kiss. Not passionate. Not yet.
It was a peck. Soft. Almost innocent.
Her lips brushed his gently, lingering for just a heartbeat—and when she stepped back, it was as if time had paused between them.
Lucien did not move.
But his entire body trembled with something dangerous. Controlled. Lethal.
Aurelia swallowed, suddenly unsure if she'd just touched fire and would now pay the price.
And then his voice—low, rough, dark—broke the silence.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
Her breath caught. “I know.”
His hand moved. Not fast. Not slow. But precise.
It wrapped around her wrist and pulled her forward—firm, but not cruel.
“I warned you,” he said, eyes burning like twin coals. “I told you to stay away from me.”
“I know,” she whispered again.
His gaze dropped to her lips.
And then, without another word, he kissed her.
This time, it wasn’t soft.
It wasn’t innocent.
His mouth crashed against hers with the intensity of a man who had held himself back for too long. His lips devoured hers, hot and cold at once, bruising and tender in the same breath. One hand buried in her hair, tilting her head just right, the other gripping her waist, pulling her against him.
She gasped into the kiss—but he didn’t stop.
He deepened it, his tongue sweeping against hers, stealing her breath, her thoughts, her resolve. His hand slid down her back, possessive, claiming her in a way that made her knees nearly buckle.
Then—
His palm settled on her hip.
Fingers curved lower, brushing the curve of her backside.
She let out a soft, involuntary sound against his mouth—half gasp, half plea.
Lucien broke the kiss suddenly, pulling back, his eyes wild.
His breathing was ragged—unnatural for someone who did not need to breathe.
“What are you doing to me?” he asked, almost accusingly.
Aurelia’s hands were still resting on his chest, trembling. “I could ask you the same.”
He took a step back.
“Aurelia, this can’t happen.”
“It already is.”
“No,” he growled. “This—this is dangerous. You don’t understand the consequences.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should!” he snapped, voice thunderous now. “Do you think I’m human? Do you think I can love the way humans do?”
“I don’t want your love,” she lied.
He stared at her.
And then laughed bitterly. “Liar.”
She blinked.
“You want it,” he said, stepping close again. “You want me to be gentle. To be yours. To be tamed.”
“No,” she whispered. “I just want you. However you are.”
He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her lower lip.
“You don’t know what that means.”
“Then teach me.”
He stared for a long time.
His thumb slid down, brushing her chin. His other hand was still on her waist, thumb grazing her skin just beneath her blouse.
“You make me forget what I am,” he murmured.
“Then keep forgetting,” she said.
Another pause.
And then he kissed her again—slower this time, more controlled, but just as intense.
This kiss spoke of buried desires. Of years, maybe centuries, of restraint unraveling thread by thread. He tasted of wine and something ancient. Something powerful.
His hands moved, framing her body with reverence and danger. One slid again across her lower back, fingers curling briefly around the curve of her ass—this time firmer, more deliberate.
She gasped, her fingers digging into his coat.
Lucien pulled away, just enough to rest his forehead against hers.
“You don’t know what you’re inviting,” he murmured. “I don’t just bite, Aurelia. I consume.”
She smiled, breathless. “Then do it.”
He shuddered.
And then, suddenly, he pushed her gently away.
Not cruelly.
Not coldly.
But with just enough distance to remind her that he was still battling something within himself.
“I’m not ready to lose control,” he said.
“I’ll be here when you are.”
She turned, slowly, walking toward the door again—this time, her heart racing for a different reason.
He watched her go.
And this time, he didn’t stop her.
But as the door closed behind her, his voice followed her into the corridor—low, gravelly, dark with promise.
“Next time, Aurelia… I won’t let you walk away.”
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- Writer
