Bound to the triplets

Chapter 4 - When the Past Walks In

Aria Point Of View

The sound of my footsteps echoed through the empty street. At first, I paid attention to that sound, the steady, familiar crash of my boots on concrete. It was the only thing that kept me steady. The strap kept slipping, so I had to adjust it every few minutes, but the bag felt comfortable against my shoulder. The city was alive all around me, but it felt far away. The sound of cars passing, the laughter of people walking ahead, and the faint cry of a vendor calling out from a corner all mixed together into a low hum that I wasn't really a part of.

I told myself to take a deep breath. To keep going. To act like everything was fine. But that coil of worry wouldn't let go. It had been with me for days, crawling under my skin and telling me I wasn't alone. That person, or thing, was always right behind me.

I slowed down. I looked over the row of shops and restaurants, looking for a way out. That's when I saw it.

A little coffee shop that is half-hidden between a bookstore and a clothing store. The window was a little foggy, and the glass caught the amber light from the lamps inside. The warmth spread out in the fading light of the afternoon. There was a chalkboard by the door with messy writing on it that promised pumpkin lattes and buttery croissants.

It seemed safe.

I let myself stop and look at it for a moment longer, thinking about whether or not to go in. My heart was already racing, and my nerves were already frayed. Maybe I just needed a break, a place to sit, and a place to pretend for a while that I wasn't falling apart.

I pushed the door open before I could change my mind.

The bell above rang softly.

Heat wrapped around my cold skin like a blanket right away. The air smelled like roasted beans, cinnamon, and something sweet, like vanilla syrup. The sound of jazz playing softly in the background mixed with the sounds of steaming milk and cups being stacked. A few people were sitting at tables, two students were working on their laptops, a young couple was sharing a muffin, and an older man was reading a newspaper in the corner. Their presence should have made me feel better, and their normalcy should have kept me grounded.

When I got my latte, I wrapped my hands around the warm ceramic and took it to a table by the window. I let the cup sit there for a moment without touching it, just enjoying how warm it felt against my hands.

At last, I let out a breath. Maybe I could finally breathe for the first time all day. Or at least, that's what I thought.

That was when I felt it.

That weight that I couldn't see pressing against the back of my neck and the feeling that someone was watching me.

I knew him before I saw him.

Lucian Veyric.

He sat in the café's farthest corner, where the shadows were the longest. He was both casual and planned, as if he had been waiting. A beam of light from the window hit his face, making his golden eyes shine with an unsettling sharpness.

My chest hurt so much that the cup almost slipped out of my hands. He shouldn't have been here. He wasn't supposed to be real outside of memory. For months, I had told myself that he was a nightmare locked away, buried under layers of walls I had built carefully, piece by piece.

But he was here. In my safe place. The sounds of the café faded away around me. The music, the voices, and the laughter all faded away until there was only him.

Flashback

The Greek god cut into skin. His strong shoulders held me in place, and his perfect jawline turned toward me on purpose. He didn't need to say anything; his presence alone was enough. Every move made me feel closer, as if gravity itself was pulling me toward him.

His heat pressed against me, overwhelming but also drawing me in. His breath brushed against the curve of my neck, and I couldn't stop shivering. His fingers were tangled in my hair, pulling and guiding me, telling me without words that there was no point in fighting back.

Every time he touched me, it set off nerves I didn't know I had. Every word whispered to me wrapped around my mind like smoke, making me feel dizzy and high. I couldn't tell the difference between fear and desire.

I stopped fighting that night when his hand slipped through the fabric barrier and his finger slid into my wet p***y. I let go.

I lost all sense of who I was.

Flashback Ends

The memory hit me like an over-poured shot of espresso, bitter, sharp, and impossible to control. I gripped my cup tightly with my fingers, as if the warmth could keep me here, in this café, in this moment, instead of pulling me back to that night.

But his presence was heavy and impossible to ignore. Lucian was a force, even when he was sitting down. He wasn't sitting on a piece of furniture; he was sitting on a throne. His stillness gave him an air of authority. It made everyone else in the café disappear, like satellites that didn't know they were there.

I told myself to go. To leave, leave the latte behind, and put as much space between us as you can. But my legs let me down. They shook, useless under the weight of his gaze.

I took a chance and looked up. Our gazed locked on each other.

Recognition came first. Then fear. Then, even worse, that darker flicker of desire that I hated myself for. My stomach hurt a lot. How could my body still move when my mind was telling me to run?

I quickly turned away, opened my laptop, and pretended to type. Acting like I wasn't falling apart inside. Acting like the air hadn't gotten so thin that I could barely breathe. But Lucian didn't need words to break me down. He didn't need to say anything. He was still enough. He was both a warning and a temptation, all in one unbearable person.

Seconds turned into hours. The café got smaller and smaller around me, and every inch felt like it was choking me. I tried to pay attention to the sound of the espresso machine, the scratch of a pen on the table next to me, and the sound of a newspaper page turning. But it didn't help. His gaze took in everything, swallowing every attempt to be normal.

He stood up without saying a word.

The sound of his chair scraping was soft, almost unnoticeable, but it hit me like thunder. He stood still and gracefully, with his shoulders rolling back as if he had been in charge for hundreds of years. He didn't look at anyone else. He didn't have to. He left on purpose, with a plan.

It felt as if the shadows had opened up to let him through.

The world came rushing back in with a jarring force. Behind the counter, the blender roared. Someone's phone rang loudly. The students in the corner burst out laughing. I put my hand on my chest and realized how badly I needed air. My latte had gotten cold without me touching it.

Lucian shouldn't have been here. He was meant to be a ghost. A chapter I had buried under deadlines and morning routines, under the safety of coffee shops where nothing bad ever happened. But with just one look, he destroyed it all.

It wasn't by chance that he looked that way. It wasn't by chance.

He wanted me to know that he could find me. Anyplace. All the time.

My hands shook a lot as I reached for the strap of my bag and struggled with the buckle. I told myself to get going. To take a breath. To leave before he got back. But I already knew the truth deep down.

The corner he had been in still felt alive. It seemed like the shadows didn't want to let him go.

I swallowed hard, trying to fight off the panic that was rising inside me. I heard my mind scream that I should run and never look back. But my body didn't forget. It remembered the fire, the danger, and the closeness that had scared and broken me. And I couldn't get rid of the cold truth that was running through my veins like ice.

Lucian Veyric was back. And I knew I couldn't escape him this time.