Lucian stared at from behind, the weight of his gaze so sharp it felt like it could burn a hole straight through my spine.
I shoved the last shirt into the small bag and zipped it shut.
"You might put a hole in my back..." I muttered, forcing a light tone as I turned to him with a tiny smile. "Just a day. Okay?"
Lucian’s expression didn’t soften.
"I will go with you," he said imdiately, already stepping toward like the decision had never been up for debate.
Of course he’d say that.
His protectiveness was practically radiating frost into the room.
So I nodded. "Would you be okay staying at another place?"
"I’m okay," he said without hesitation, "as long as you are in my sight... and you yourself didn’t look like you could separate from earlier, right?"
He reached for my hands, gently taking them in his, his thumbs brushing slow circles over my skin.
Soft in a way only I ever saw.
"I have a lot on my mind and a lot of questions for you, but can you answer one thing that’s been bugging since earlier..." I said, lifting my gaze to et his.
His fingers tightened gently around mine, brows lowering as he leaned in, attentive in that soft way that never failed to disarm .
"What is it?" he asked quietly.
That gentleness alone made sothing in my chest twist painfully.
I swallowed, forcing the question out, the one that had been stabbing at my thoughts ever since Vaylen walked in.
"Did you know... from the start... that I look exactly like Celeste?"
Lucian didn’t answer right away.
But his eyes flickered, just barely.
"I knew," he admitted softly. "The mont I saw you." He lifted one hand and brushed my cheek, the gesture slow... almost hesitant. "You have her face. But you don’t feel like her."
He searched my eyes, as if trying to make understand sothing deeper than his words could carry.
"Celeste is soft... and kind of timid."
His thumb traced the line of my jaw.
"You... are loud. Stubborn. Reckless. Emotional. Honest to a fault."
His voice dipped, almost fond, "You push back. You question everything. You make ... feel."
My breath caught.
"And that," Lucian said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, "is how I knew you weren’t her."
"Wait—wait."
I held up a hand like a traffic cop having a breakdown.
"You’re telling ... from the start? From the SECOND I walked into your office? Since the holess-woman-on-your-office incident??"
Lucian went totally still.
Guilt flickered across his face.
Like actual guilt.
"So," I continued, voice rising, "the mont your eyes landed on ... you and that basilisk—"
Lucian winced visibly.
"Yes, your basilisk secretary..." I jabbed a finger at his chest, "decided to put on a full dramatic performance?!"
Lucian looked away like the answer was embarrassing.
"One thing I was sure of at that ti, I didn’t know who you were," he muttered. "I needed ti."
"Ti? TI?!"
I threw my hands up.
"To do WHAT? Run auditions? Practice your lines?"
Lucian pressed a hand over his eyes, exhaling like a man deeply regretting ever being born.
"Seraphina," he said carefully, "I wasn’t pretending. I was observing."
"Observing WHAT?!"
"You walked in with her face."
His eyes locked onto mine.
"But everything else... every expression, every reaction, every word was wrong. Wrong in a way that made sense."
I blinked. Hard.
"So you... what? Decided to test like I was so rare zoo animal?!"
He groaned softly, shoulders dropping.
"I wasn’t testing you."
His voice lowered, surprisingly gentle.
"I was trying to understand you. Because you weren’t Celeste... but I also couldn’t look away."
I froze.
"Wah..." I threw my head back dramatically, staring at the ceiling like it owed answers. "You couldn’t look away, but you still decided to throw out of your office without hesitation?"
Lucian stiffened.
"That was—"
"A reflex?"
I snapped.
"A hobby? A personality trait?"
His jaw tightened, and he looked personally attacked.
"I didn’t throw you out," he defended, voice low but irritated. "I asked you to leave."
"Oh, sorry," I gasped. "My mistake. You politely escorted out with your special CEO glare and emotional damage."
Lucian tilted his head, lips pressed thin. "Can you let talk first?"
But ... being the most chatty phoenix in this world, yes, self-proclaid, couldn’t let him explain.
"I’ll go by myself," I declared, grabbing the bag and turning dramatically toward the door.
"Seraphina."
But I was already marching forward.
Behind , I heard his breath leave him in a quiet, frustrated sound, the kind a man makes when he knows absolutely nothing he says will stop the disaster known as .
"You’re not going anywhere until I finish what I need to say."
The tone dropped.
Low. Cold and commanding.
The absolute voice of a domineering ice dragon.
My legs instantly stopped moving.
Not because he pulled but because my entire nervous system respectfully shut down.
I swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the strap of my bag as I slowly turned back toward him.
His eyes locked onto mine, unblinking.
"Good," he murmured, stepping closer. "Now stay right there."
"I stopped not because I’m afraid of you—"
But the rest of that sentence never made it out.
Because Lucian didn’t just kiss . He closed the distance and devoured the words right off my lips, swallowing my protest like it was the most natural thing in the world.
My eyes flew wide.
My brain short-circuited.
My hands, which were very ready to argue, ended up pressed against his chest as he kissed harder, like he was tired of talking, tired of chasing, tired of my constant running and circling and doubting.
"L–Lucian—!" I tried to push him back, palms flattening against firm muscle.
He didn’t budge. Not even an inch.
He deepened the kiss, tilting my face exactly the way he wanted. I pushed at him on pure principle because obviously I should but my stupid heart was yelling, ’Don’t you dare stop’.
Every intention to keep fighting, to keep this cat-and-dog fighting going, started lting right out of my spine.
My knees wobbled.
My heartbeat hit a new high.
And still... he kept kissing like he was trying to make rember sothing I kept pretending not to see.
"Ask anything... and please wait until I finish explaining..." he murmured against my mouth.
Terrible timing, by the way.
Because the mont he said that, he went right back to devouring my lips.
Like—sir?? What is the use of telling to ask you questions if you’re going to kiss into brain malfunction?
So yes.
Vaylen Blaze... poor, panicking Vaylen Blaze, ended up waiting for three freaking hours.
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