Chapter 13 #2
And it made my chest tighten with something dangerously close to belonging.
The naming was complete, the ritual sealed, and slowly the room shifted.
Guards relaxed just enough, the tension easing into something lighter, warmer.
A long table had been laid out in the adjoining hall, heavy with roasted meats, dark breads, cheeses, bowls of fruit that gleamed under candlelight, and bottles of crimson wine uncorked and waiting.
We moved together, brothers, mates, family like some tide rolling from one shore to the next.
For once, there was no immediate threat pressing at the door.
No demons lurking in the shadows, no whispers of the Irish rising from their graves.
Just quiet. A lull. And in that rare silence, we sat to feast.
Viking was already reaching for a bottle before anyone else had settled, pouring generously for himself and passing it down with a grin.
Draugr cut through slabs of meat with a precision that looked more like preparing for battle than serving dinner.
Volken surveyed the spread before choosing, methodical as ever, his movements slow and deliberate.
Lucien sat beside me, close enough that his hand remained at the small of my back like he couldn’t stop touching me even in something as ordinary as a meal. His thumb traced small, grounding circles there, even when he turned his attention to his brothers.
Conversation sparked like embers, flickers of life in a house more used to strategy and silence.
Viking, as always, was the loudest spark, his grin sharp as he leaned across the table. “You’re slipping, Roman. A year ago, you would’ve gutted anyone who dared to look at your plate. Now you’re sharing bread with us like a civilized man.”
Roman’s stare was flat as stone, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Touch my plate and see what happens.”
Viking laughed, pouring himself more wine before topping off mine without asking. “There’s the Roman we know.”
Volken, ever the blade in the dark, cut in, his tone precise.
“You mistake tolerance for softness, brother. Roman has not changed. He’s simply…
re-prioritized.” His eyes flicked toward Layla and the child in her arms, his sharp mouth tightening as though the sight stirred something even, he couldn’t name.
Viking rolled his eyes. “Leave it to you to take all the fun out of dinner, Volken.”
“Someone has to,” Volken replied, sipping his wine with a calm that only made Viking scowl deeper.
Draugr rumbled from the far end, his voice low and rough, like boulders grinding together. “Both of you sound like old women gossiping. Eat and drink because tomorrow, there will be blood again. Tonight at least we have peace.”
The words, simple as they were, settled over the table like an anchor. For a heartbeat, even Viking’s grin dimmed, the weight of Draugr’s truth cutting through the banter. But then, just as quickly, it softened into something else, a flicker of warmth none of them wore often.
Roman’s mouth curved, not quite into a smile, but close enough to count. It wasn’t laughter, not exactly. It was something rarer. Something alive.
In that moment, I saw what bound them, not just blood, or war, but a fractured kind of family that only truly breathed in stolen moments like this one.
Layla was radiant even in her exhaustion, Aleksander cradled against her chest as she ate one-handed, Roman’s eyes never straying far from her. She looked like light in a room of shadows, and for a fleeting second, I wondered if that was what Lucien saw in me.
Wine was poured; toasts muttered more like oaths than celebrations. The food was rich, heavy, and I felt myself almost sinking into it, into the surreal peace of sitting with them, eating like we were just people instead of monsters and survivors.
Then Layla shifted in her seat, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “I should take Aleksander and change him,” she said softly, rising with the baby in her arms.
I moved automatically to stand with her, my plate forgotten, but the moment I pushed up from the bench the room tilted. The floor seemed to slide out from under me, and my vision blurred at the edges.
A soft gasp left me as my knees threatened to buckle. My hand shot out for balance, but it wasn’t the table I caught.
It was Lucien.
The sound of his chair crashing backward against the stone floor cut through the hall like a blade. In less than a heartbeat, he was there, his arm locking around my waist, holding me upright as though I weighed nothing at all.
“Sorcha,” he barked, sharper than he intended, the word torn from his throat like it had claws. His presence was overwhelming, fierce, his chest pressed to mine, his eyes wild as they scanned me like I might disappear.
The baby stirred against Layla’s shoulder at the sudden tension, but she only held him tighter, her eyes flicking with concern. Roman was instantly at her side, protective as always, but even he couldn’t ignore the storm rising out of Lucien.
“I’m fine,” I managed, my voice unsteady as I tried to straighten, though the room still wavered. “Just…stood too quickly.”
Lucien’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened, anchoring me against him, his jaw clenched hard enough to crack bone. His gaze raked over me, sharp and furious, like the very idea of weakness in me was an insult to him, a threat he couldn’t strike down.
I touched his forearm, feeling the tension like steel beneath my fingers. “Really,” I whispered, trying to soothe him. “I’m okay.”
But he wasn’t soothed. His eyes never left me, unblinking, like if he dared look away even for a second, something would rip me from his arms.
Around us, the feast quieted. Viking’s grin faded, Volken’s eyes sharpened, Draugr’s massive frame shifting slightly forward in his seat as if preparing for violence that wasn’t there. Layla took the baby upstairs after ensuring that I was fine.
Lucien’s breathing was too rough, his heart beating like a war drum against my spine. He lowered his head just enough that his lips brushed the shell of my ear, his voice a gravel-edged vow. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
Heat rose in my chest, not anger, but something heavier, more complicated.
Shame at making him react that way. Fear that maybe I wasn’t as strong as I wanted to believe.
And under it all, a pulse of something dark and undeniable because part of me liked the way he clung to me, like I was the only thing in the world that could undo him.
The feast carried on, quieter now, more cautious, but Lucien never let me go. His arm stayed locked around me, his body curled protectively against mine as if daring anyone to see my weakness as an opportunity.
And deep down, I knew this wasn’t over for him as he continued to look at me as if I would disappear.
After dinner, everyone moved into the hall, though Lucien never once loosened his hold on me. His arm stayed snug around my waist, guiding me through every farewell as though I couldn’t be trusted to stand on my own.
At the doors, Viking leaned against the frame with that sharp grin of his, his tone lazy but his eyes calculating. “The Board dinner is in two nights. Who’s going? I’ve got Volken and myself tied up overseas with the ammunitions deal.”
Volken gave the barest nod of confirmation. “Spain.”
Draugr rumbled low, his lip curling. “Don’t look at me. Put me in a room of smug suits and I’ll cut one’s throat before dessert.”
“Exactly why you’re not invited,” Viking said with a flash of teeth. His gaze slid toward Roman and Lucien. “Leaves you two.”
Roman’s hand rested firm on Layla’s shoulder, his son tucked safe in her arms. His jaw was set, but his eyes softened only for them. “Not me, not now. Aleksander’s too young for us to leave him with anyone. Layla and I aren’t separating.”
Viking arched a brow. “Then it’s Lucien.”
Lucien didn’t argue or hesitate. His hand squeezed my hip instead, possessive as his dark gaze dropped to me. “Fine,” he said, his tone final. Then, low enough that only I heard, he added, “And you’re coming with me.”
Heat rippled through me at the quiet command, my chest tightened because a part of me wanted to argue, and another part of me wanted to melt.
“Two nights,” he continued, brushing his lips against my temple before pulling me closer against his side. “You’ll stand at my side, will be a good time to introduce you to everyone.”
We said our goodbyes, Roman’s nod was simple but weighty, Layla offering a smile that warmed me despite the tension that still lingered from earlier.
The SUV waited outside, dark and sleek. Lucien didn’t even bother with propriety as he pulled me straight into his lap once we were inside, his arms banded tight around me like I might vanish if he let go.
“You’ll have dresses sent in tomorrow,” he murmured against my hair, his lips brushing my crown.
But I turned in his lap, meeting his sharp, unyielding gaze. “Or… we could go shopping.”
His brow arched. “Shopping?”
“Yes.” I crossed my arms, my chin tilting in that stubborn angle I knew he hated and wanted all at once. “I would like to go out, to a real store. I need to see other people, not just deliveries to the mansion.”
His jaw tightened, his thumb stroking absently across my thigh as if weighing the risk against my stubbornness. I pressed on before he could shut it down.
“I don’t want my only outings to be Roman and Layla’s house or formal dinners where I’m dressed up like a porcelain doll.
I want to walk into a store and try something on and be able to choose it for myself.
” My voice softened, but the plea was real.
“If you are there with me Lucien, I will be safe.”
He studied me in the low light, his eyes burning with that dangerous mix of calculation and possession. My heart stuttered under the weight of his silence, until finally he exhaled slow, his forehead pressing briefly against mine.
“You’re testing me,” he muttered, half to himself, half to me. “You want freedom, and I want you safe. And above all I want you happy.”
My chest fluttered, though I tried to keep my smile small, cautious.
“Tomorrow,” he said finally, the single word more vow than concession. “But you don’t leave my side, and if I give you an order you follow it without complaints. You understand me?”
“I understand.”
I curled against him, relief threading through me. His hand spread wide across my back, his lips brushing my hair again, as though even that small victory cost him something.
But I knew then, whether he liked it or not, he wasn’t going to keep me locked away. And part of me wanted to push those boundaries again.