74. Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Four
M orning presses down like a warm weight, Lucian's arm across my chest, Elias's body curving into mine. It's indulgent, lazy. Sunlight strains through the curtains, and I let myself breathe it in. The nest of blankets, the scattered pillows—it all smells like sex and like them and like the new life I'm not sure I deserve. I could sink into it forever, hide here, pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I almost do, sleep dragging me under like a rip current, but then a jarring sound cuts through the silence and shocks me awake.
It's not my phone. Mine’s set to vibrate—barely a murmur—and tucked deep in the pile of clothes we peeled off last night. This is loud and piercing, invading the comfortable cocoon we've wrapped ourselves in. I tense, and Lucian shifts slightly, his arm heavy across my body.
We're sprawled in the living room nest, a sea of bedding beneath us. Their breathing is deep and steady beside me, neither of them stirred by the sudden noise. It's only me, my senses attuned for the unexpected, always. I look at them, marveling at the way they can just be, at how they seem to know they’re safe, even in sleep. I used to envy that about them.
My eyes travel over Elias first, his hair catching the morning light, lashes feathered against his cheeks. He’s nestled close, one leg draped over mine, his body a comfortable, trusting weight. I'm struck again by the ease of it all.
It seems unreal that they want this—want me—in the middle of their lives. I was a stray before, skittish and unsure, never pausing long enough for anyone to really see me. But they took me in, made me feel like part of them. It terrifies me how quickly I've come to rely on it, how much I need what they give so freely.
I curl closer, pressing into the heat of them, letting myself drift on the edges of sleep again. The sound recedes, but it’s still there, a warning at the edges. There's a moment where I forget everything else, the press of Elias's skin on mine and Lucian's arm heavy across me lulling me into another world. A world that seems possible now, maybe even within reach.
It doesn’t take long to remember the night—what we did, how it felt, the way I surrendered myself to this, to them. It's all sharp and fresh, without regret. I feel warm all over at the thought, embarrassed and proud and utterly open, like they’ve unwrapped something deep inside me. I didn’t know I had that kind of need until I let it show, let them see me like this. Elias murmured sweet things in my ear, his voice soft and grounding, while Lucian laughed against my skin, wicked and sure. They were all around me, all inside me.
My pulse quickens at the memory, and I want to wake them, to pick up where we left off. But this quiet, stolen time feels precious, too. I'm greedy for it, for every part of them I can have.
The sound jars again, reminding me that I can't have everything, not all at once. It comes from the kitchen, far enough away that it seems to belong to another world. It breaks the silence over and over, relentless, refusing to let me forget that something outside this room, this moment, is clawing its way in.
Maybe if I ignore it, it will go away, and we can have a little longer like this. Maybe I don’t have to leave this nest we've made. I close my eyes and let the warmth wash over me, but it’s no use. The ringing seeps in, poisoning the peace we've built, until it’s all I can hear. They haven’t even moved yet. How is it possible to sleep through this? I sigh, wondering if I should try to wake one of them or just give in and get up myself. I’m so tired of being the one who always hears the danger first, always has to figure out how to deal with it.
But the longer I wait, the harder it will be. And I’m already bracing myself, preparing for whatever it is that waits beyond the shelter of their bodies.
Lucian shifts again and groans, lifting his arm from my chest and stretching it over his head. He pulls away, getting to his feet with a slow grace, the covers falling to the floor around him. I blink at his easy nakedness, admire the confident lines of his body. I don't mean to stare, but it’s hard not to, especially when he doesn't seem to mind at all. Elias shifts beside me, following my gaze and then laughing softly.
"Like what you see?" he murmurs, his voice playful and knowing. I flush and try to look anywhere but at Lucian.
“Just looking,” I say. “Or trying to.”
Elias gives a small, wicked grin. “There's no rule around here that you can’t look,” he says, low and warm. “….or touch.”
The air is almost unbearably light, full of a soft, teasing heat. I look from Lucian to Elias, wondering at this world I’ve landed in, where nothing’s out of bounds and everything is easy, even the jokes. It’s a wonder I don’t collapse under the weight of my own blushing. Lucian gives a half-salute from the kitchen doorway, his back turned as he goes to answer the phone. I get one more flash of bare skin before he's out of sight, the morning light dancing over the broad planes of his shoulders. I feel like I should apologize for gawking, but Elias is still curled up beside me, and his laughter makes everything seem just ridiculous enough not to care.
“Is it like this every morning?” I ask, pretending to pout. “Do I have to hide under the covers to keep from staring?”
Elias props himself up on one elbow, eyes full of amusement and something that looks a lot like affection. "You'll get used to it," he promises. "Or you won't, and it will just keep being fun to watch you blush."
I groan and bury my face in the pillow, trying to muffle my embarrassment. “You’re impossible,” I say, but there's no real bite to it. I'm too giddy with the absurdity of the moment, the delightful awkwardness that only comes from being exactly where you want to be.
Elias tugs the pillow away and leans in close, his breath a warm whisper against my ear. “Come on, Lydia. Admit it. You love it.” His voice is teasing, but there's an undercurrent of sincerity that sends a shiver down my spine.
I turn to face him, letting myself smile the way I only ever can around them. "Maybe," I concede, the word catching in my throat and turning into laughter. "Or maybe I'm just a prisoner here, and this is all part of your wicked plan."
"You figured us out." He pulls me closer, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Caught in the act."
Lucian's voice drifts in from the kitchen, a low rumble that vibrates through the walls. He's still on the phone, words indistinct, and I imagine him pacing, the way he does when he's in one of his moods. Part of me wants to know what's going on, wants to be part of every piece of this life I've stumbled into, but another part is content to stay here with Elias, tangled in laughter and light.
We lay there, listening to the muffled conversation, the occasional sharp rise in Lucian's voice, until the sound of it becomes as comfortable as the silence was before. I almost forget that there's a world outside these walls, a world that's still a little dangerous, a little unkind.
Elias shifts so we're face to face, the tips of our noses almost touching. His eyes search mine, soft and serious now. "You really like it here?" he asks, and the note of uncertainty surprises me.
I nod, my throat too tight to speak. It’s overwhelming sometimes, how much I like it, how much I need it. He kisses me then, soft and slow, his lips curving into a smile against mine. It feels like a promise, like everything I never knew I wanted until they offered it to me. I kiss him back, the world shrinking to just this—the taste of him, the weight of his body pressing me into the covers, the warmth pooling deep inside me.
It’s only when Lucian reappears that I remember there’s more to life than this nest, this incredible morning. He's dressed now, or at least half-dressed, a pair of sweatpants slung low around his hips. The look on his face makes me pause, makes everything pause, and a thread of worry winds its way through me.
He runs a hand through his red hair, mouth a tight line. “It was—” he starts, then stops, his eyes meeting mine. I brace myself, not sure what I’m hoping for. “We’ve got company coming,” he finally says, the words dropping like stones in the quiet room. “Your parents. Somehow they got our address. They're on their way.”
For a moment, all I hear is my own breath, quick and sharp in the sudden silence. It hits me like a slap, and all the air rushes out of me. Lucian’s next to me before I even realize he’s moved, his arms around me, pulling me close. Elias follows, wrapping himself around both of us, and I let myself collapse into them, too overwhelmed to do anything else.
Panic wells up, a rising flood, and I forget how to breathe. I don't hear Lucian's voice, don't feel Elias's touch. I can't. I'm shaking too hard, gasping for air, drowning in the certainty of it: They're coming for me. They'll take me back. We have to leave, pack up, go, now, before it's too late. I try to pull away, try to run, but Lucian doesn't let me. He holds on, his voice a lifeline I can't grasp. He says my name, again and again, and it's Elias's hand that finally anchors me, gentle on my cheek.
I hear my pulse, an angry drum, louder than anything else. They're coming, and I should have known. Should have known they wouldn't let me go that easily, wouldn't let me disappear without a fight. We’re not safe here. We’re not safe anywhere.
Lucian holds me tighter, pulling me against him, repeating my name over and over. He says it like a prayer, like a promise, until it's the only thing I hear, drowning out the rest of the world.
“Lydia,” he murmurs, low and urgent. “Stay with me, sweetheart. Stay here. They can’t touch you.”
His voice pulls me from the depths, slowly, until I’m back in the room with them, the bright living room where we made love and I thought I was safe. I’m shaking, can’t stop, but he doesn't let go. I sag against him, breathless, my heart still racing.
I try to speak, try to tell them we need to leave, but all that comes out is a sob. Elias is there, wrapping around us, his touch careful and sure. He takes my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away tears I didn’t know I’d started crying.
“Hey,” he says, soft and steady. “We’ve got you. We’re right here.”
I let my eyes close, his voice calming, the way a warm bath is calming—like I could sink into it, disappear under the surface and just float. He doesn't ask me to be anything but here, but now, and I don’t know how they do it, make it all seem so simple.
The fight goes out of me, replaced by a quiet desperation. “I don’t want to go back,” I say, a raw, gasping whisper. “I can’t.”
Lucian kisses my hair, his breath a balm against my skin. “You won’t. We won’t let that happen. Okay? Just breathe.”
I try, but the air is too thick. I’ve lived my whole life looking over my shoulder, knowing they were always right behind me, ready to drag me back to Silvercrest, back to everything I ran away from. It's like the past is catching up, and I can't outrun it this time.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” Elias says. His hands are gentle, always gentle, the way he touches his most delicate creations. Like I might break if he isn't careful. Like he knows I’m already breaking, just a little.
He smooths the hair from my face, and I take in a shuddering breath, not sure if I believe him, but wanting to. I don’t know how to do this. I don't know how to be so open, so vulnerable.
Lucian leans back, making sure I meet his eyes. “They can't take you, Lydia. You're ours now. You’re part of this pack.”
The certainty in his voice grounds me, and I nod, even though I'm still terrified. I'm part of this pack. They chose me, just like I chose them. And maybe if I can hold onto that, it will be enough.
Elias presses his forehead to mine, and I feel his breath mingle with mine, slow and even. I follow it, try to match it, until the panic recedes enough for me to think straight, to speak.
“They’re coming,” I say, the words like ash in my mouth. “They’ll find us. They’ll make us—”
“No,” Lucian cuts me off, firm but not unkind. “No one’s making us do anything. Not this time.”
I shake my head, not wanting to argue, not wanting to think about what will happen when my parents get here. I saw their anger when I left. I felt the sting of their rejection. But even then, even when they were done with me, I knew it wasn't really over. Not with them. Not with Silvercrest.
“I can’t go back to that,” I say again, the fear raw and real in my voice.
Elias kisses my temple, and I lean into him, into both of them. “Then you won’t,” he promises. “We’re going to figure this out, together.”
The word wraps around me like a shield, and for a moment, I let myself believe it. I let myself hope that maybe they’re right, that maybe this doesn’t have to be the end of everything I’ve found.
The fear is still there, a low thrum beneath the surface, but I let them hold me. I let them bear the weight of it with me. It’s a new feeling, this not having to carry it alone, and I don’t know if I’m doing it right, but they don’t seem to mind.
We sit there in silence, the three of us, their arms around me, my head against Lucian's chest, the drum of his heart a steady comfort. I focus on it, try to let it drown out the panic and the worry, try to remember what it felt like this morning, when everything seemed possible.
They won’t let me go. They said it over and over, and I want to believe it. I want to trust in it, to trust them.
So I do. I take a breath and whisper, "Okay." It's small and shaky, but it's there, a little shard of faith.
“Good girl,” Lucian says, kissing the top of my head, and something eases inside me, some tight coil of fear unspooling. We sit like that a little longer, until my breathing is slow and even again, until the panic drains away, leaving only a wary kind of hope in its place.
Finally, Lucian shifts, pulling back just enough to look at me. “When they get here, we can handle it. However you want. You say the word, and we’ll do it. You have choices, Lydia. You always have choices.”
The words are so different from everything I grew up hearing. I can hardly wrap my mind around them. Choices. The power to choose.
I swallow hard, nodding, the decision already made. “I want them out of my life. For good.”
He smiles then, a fierce and tender thing, and I know I’ve made the right choice, the only choice that really matters.
“They’re not going to know what hit them,” he says, and I finally start to believe that it’s true.