Sin in His Shadow” Book One

Chapter 7: Where Roses Rot

Lucien ran.

Not gracefully.

Not like in the movies.

He tore through the velvet-curtained halls of the Andros Estate, lungs burning, heart punching against his ribs. His mask had slipped. His heels clicked a desperate rhythm on marble, echoing with every breathless step.

Behind him—footsteps.

Heavy, certain.

Trained.

Not guests.

Not dancers.

Killers.

He gripped the note in his hand like it was holy. Zarek’s warning? Or someone else? It didn’t matter. Someone knew who he was, and they wanted him gone.

Down the servant staircase.

Left. Then right.

He remembered the estate map Aelin had shown him a week ago, laughing over wine and stale popcorn. She had called the back corridors "a rat’s maze with chandeliers."

Now, they were his only hope.

He burst through a door and found himself in a long corridor lit only by flickering oil sconces. Shadows danced like devils on the walls. And then—

A hand grabbed his wrist, yanked him into a darkened alcove.

Lucien opened his mouth to scream.

A palm covered it.

“Shh,” came the low voice, intimate and cold.

“Zarek,” Lucien whispered when the hand lowered. “You—”

Zarek didn’t let him finish. He pulled Lucien tight against him, pressed back into the shadows, their bodies flush.

Boots stomped past the hall, not even pausing.

Only once the silence stretched did Zarek release him.

Lucien’s chest rose and fell like waves in a storm.

“You followed me here,” Zarek said, voice quieter now. His expression was unreadable. “You ignored every warning.”

“I had to see,” Lucien replied. “I had to know why you pulled me in and then pushed me away.”

“I did it to protect you.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “From who? From your world? Or from you?”

That silence between them was louder than any explosion.

Zarek turned his face, jaw clenched.

“I can’t protect you from myself,” he finally said. “I’ve killed people, Lucien.”

Lucien didn’t flinch.

“I know,” he said quietly. “And you saved me. Twice.”

Zarek looked stunned—like he’d expected disgust, not understanding.

Lucien stepped closer.

“Why me?” he asked.

Zarek didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out something—something Lucien didn’t expect.

A photograph.

Worn. Creased.

Lucien as a boy.

Twelve, maybe thirteen.

Sitting on the steps of the orphanage.

“You knew me,” Lucien whispered, voice cracking. “Back then…”

“I watched you for years,” Zarek said. “I never meant for you to know. I never meant to be in your life again.”

Lucien’s vision blurred.

“You were the one who left those roses,” he said, remembering the crimson petals that showed up every birthday.

Zarek nodded. “They were the only safe way I had to say—‘I remember.’”

Tears spilled down Lucien’s cheeks before he could stop them.

“All this time, you were there. And I thought I was alone.”

Zarek’s hand brushed the tear from Lucien’s face.

“You were never alone.”

For a moment, they just stood like that, everything around them quieting. The walls, the danger, the blood that was surely still being spilled somewhere in the mansion—it all fell away.

Then Zarek said the one thing Lucien didn’t expect.

> “If you stay with me, Lucien, you’ll never be safe again.”

“Then don’t let me go.”

Their lips crashed together.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t perfect.

It was everything.

Fire and history. Pain and hope. Blood and roses.

Their kiss was the promise of a thousand unsaid words. Zarek pulled Lucien against him, hands firm around his waist, and Lucien didn’t hold back. He kissed him like he had waited years. Because he had.

When they broke apart, breathless, Zarek rested his forehead against Lucien’s.

“Then you’re mine now,” he said, voice low and possessive. “Even if the world burns.”

Lucien smiled through his tears. “Let it burn.”