XX
EDEN
I run.
Barefoot. Gasping.
The night air is sharp, cutting into my skin as I sprint across the damp grass, the cold sinking into my bones. The crescent moon is high, and the world looks distorted, unfamiliar.
My whole body feels wet.
But I know it’s not from water. It’s from blood—I don’t know where mine stops and Silas’ starts. My palms ache, my chest aches, everything hurts so badly.
I want to scream, to cry, to wallow, but I don’t have the time.
So I don’t stop.
I can’t stop.
Branches tear at my arms as I crash through the overgrown shrubs, climbing up the slope that leads back to campus on all fours, my breath coming in ragged sobs.
I’m naked save for my coat, everything a blur of moonlight and darkness .
I don’t know where I’m going.
I just know I have to get away from him.
Silas isn’t acting like himself.
I’ve been ignoring it—shoving the unease to the back of my mind, convincing myself that his devotion was love, that his possessiveness was protection. That the brutal sex we had was what the Lord wanted for me.
He’s the son of a duke.
He’s a dutiful member of the church.
But what I saw tonight?—
Just the thought of it makes my stomach churn and my hair stand on edge. If I think about it, I’ll start spiralling and then I won’t be able to move. He carved a pentagram into my chest.
I need to put as much space between us as possible.
The Academy is silent at this hour. The great stone buildings loom over me like disappointed sentinels. I curl my knees to my chest, trying to stay hidden within the dense garden just outside the girls dormitory.
I’m too afraid to go inside.
I can’t face Vivienne, not like this.
She was right.
How could I be so stupid?
I insulted her, told her she didn’t understand what Silas and I had. Only to realize that she was genuine—she had been looking out for my safety. I know that I’m crying because my eyes burn but I can barely feel the tears.
What I can feel is the warm liquid trailing down my body. The cuts I got while scrambling through the brambles near the lake. My body quakes with a shiver. I wrap my arms tighter around myself.
It’s just like you to make a mistake like this.
The thoughts have started.
Shame and embarrassment wash over me in equal measure—how could I have been so wrong about him? All the signs were there, but I believed his words. I trusted him more than I should have, because I was desperate.
Look where that’s brought you.
I cover my ears, trying to drown out the thoughts.
You’ve already called your mother.
She’s probably already told her friends—do you think she’ll forgive you for making her look like a fool? No. She’ll strip away the last bit of dignity I have left, take my inheritance and send me away to suffer.
The cold is biting at my thumbs, drying out my throat. I’m starting to feel light-headed too. It’s all too much—the thoughts, the physical sensations.
I want to die.
You’re so foolish, you don’t even have any friends.
I took my mother’s advice, after all. Very few people at this Academy have a peerage. She would kill me if she knew I befriended a commoner. I had rationalized my friendship with Vivienne because she’s my roommate.
This will be where I die.
In the bushes outside the girls’ dormitory—bled to death from wounds that the man I was supposed to marry inflicted on me. A terrible way to die, I suppose.
But one befitting a disappointment like you.
That particular voice in my head is unmistakable.
It’s my mother’s .
I close my eyes, accepting my fate. I start floating away, replaying the choices that led me to this very moment. That’s when a name surfaces in my mind.
Lucian.
My fingers tremble as I pull my phone out of the pocket of my coat. I hesitate for a long moment, my thumb hovering over his contact information.
Why did I think of him?
We aren’t friends.
We don’t speak outside of our Literature assignment.
But he’s always been there, somehow.
Silent.
Watching.
I press call before I can stop myself.
It rings.
Once.
Twice.
“Eden?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my throat tight.
“I need your help.” The words come out as a squeak.
There’s rustling in the background. Did I wake him?
“Where are you?”
I bite back a sob.
This is the most ridiculous thing ever. “I didn’t have anybody else to call?—”
He cuts me off, his voice deep and steady. “Tell me where you are, Eden.”
I take a deep, sniveling breath. “I’m hiding in the bushes by the girls’ dormitory.”
Lucian doesn’t ask any questions.
“I’m coming.”
It doesn’t take long.
The sound of quick, heavy footsteps—then a shadow looms over me, blocking out the movement. A familiar shadow.
Lucian.
I can’t see much of his face in the darkness. Just the glint of something cold in his green eyes. He crouches down in front of me, his gaze sweeping over me—the blood staining my neck and legs, the way I’m shivering so violently I can barely hold myself upright.
Yet he doesn’t react.
He doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he just lifts me into his arms.
I groan, mostly from pain—but a bit from surprise. He grimaces, but still stays silent. The warmth rolling off his body is like a salve to the coldness that has settled over every inch of my skin. I rest my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes.
Savoring this feeling, the smell of him—cedarwood, warmth, and the slightest hint of marijuana. There’s something grounding about it.
Lucian carries me like I weigh nothing, his steps steady and firm, yet purposeful, as he moves across the grounds. Even though I have no idea where we’re going, I close my eyes and listen to his heartbeat.
“Don’t fall asleep, Edie.” I hear the rumble of his voice in his chest before I can make out the words. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. ”
I mumble something in response and do as he says.
The path he’s carrying me along is different—it’s away from the main buildings, away from where the students live. The trees are denser, the path rough, the air colder.
A cottage appears at the crest of the slope.
I blink, barely processing what I’m seeing.
Nestled deep within the school grounds and partially hidden by ivy, the small stone house looks almost forgotten. The thatched roof, the lantern hanging from the porch. The old wooden wind chime is hanging on by a thread.
I’m certain I’ve seen him leaving the Boys’ Dormitory before. But as he carries me up the steps, it makes sense. He acts like he lives in a world of his own—because he does.
Shifting my weight slightly, he opens the door.
The warmth inside hits me instantly.
A fireplace crackles in the corner, the golden light flickering against the aged wooden walls. Bookshelves line one of the walls, overflowing with all kinds of books—a single worn out sofa and a small coffee table sits near the hearth. There’s a small kitchenette, a small wooden table with two chairs, and a single door that leads to a bedroom I suppose.
It feels like I’ve been transported through a portal.
This isn’t anything like Augustine Academy.
It’s safe.
Lucian sets me down on the floor, then returns quickly with a pile of towels and cushions that he lays me on. Under his arm, there’s a first aid kit.
“Lay down on your back.” I do as he says.
His hands go to untie my coat, but I stop him.
“I’m naked,” I rasp, embarrassment heating my cheeks.
He lowers his eyebrows, his lips pressed into a hard line. “I need to stop the bleeding, Edie. This isn’t fucking sexual.” The urgency in his voice and my light-headedness make me relent.
“Can I at least close my eyes?”
He sighs. “Sure. Just don’t fall asleep unless I give you permission.
I nod, then close my eyes.
He undoes my coat and slips my hands out of the sleeves so I’m laying like a starfish before him. A completely naked starfish.
Oh Lord, how did things end up like this?
There’s a sharp intake of air.
I squeeze my eyes tighter.
“Who did this to you?”
I open my eyes, enough to meet his gaze. His green eyes are like sharpened blades of emerald. The fireplace casts swirling shadows in them, but his anger is unmistakable.
Silence stretches between us.
I don’t have to say it.
I’m too ashamed to say it.
He already knows.
After a few moments, he opens the first aid kit and starts tending to me.
This time, I don’t close my eyes. I just watch him. There’s still venom in his eyes as he wipes me clean of all the blood. Towel after towel, soaked crimson.
“It’s not deep enough to need stitches,” he whispers. Is he talking to himself or me? “But this will hurt a bit.”
Oh, it is me.
He rubs a searing ointment into the wound on my chest. I bite my lip, but the pain leaves as suddenly as it came. Next come the bandages. It’s an awkward spot to bandage, and bless him he does his best to do it without touching my breasts .
“Show me your hands.”
I hold my palms out in front of him. They get the same treatment—cleaned, ointment, bandaged. The next thing I know, he’s putting one of my arms around his shoulders to lift me to my feet.
“You have to take a shower,” he says. “Can you stand on your own long enough?”
There’s a yes on the tip of my tongue, but my knees buckle before I can get the words out of my mouth. “I don’t think so.” I keep my eyes low.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you.” His voice is soft, calming. “I’ll do my best not to make it strange…well, stranger than it already is.”
We share a soft chuckle.
He takes me through the door—past a sparsely decorated bedroom—and into a small bathroom. As we pass the mirror, I catch a glimpse of myself.
I look like something out of a horror movie.
My hair is sticking to my skin, scratches all over my arms. But there’s so much blood all over my body. Some dried, some still fresh.
No wonder I need a shower.
Lucian has me sit on a small stool in the bathroom as he turns on the shower.
When the water is warm, he picks me up again—and we step into the glass enclosure together. He’s fully clothed, and a bit too tall for where he’s standing so he has to crouch slightly to not get hit by the shower head.
He moves his hand to hold my waist.
“I’m just here to hold you up,” he says. “So just pretend I’m not here. Your bandages are waterproof.”
“It’s hard to pretend you’re not here, Lucy. ”
He’s holding my gaze, a small smile curling his lips.
“Hurry up,” he scolds playfully. “This is more uncomfortable than it looks.”
The warm water is a reprieve. I scrub my skin as best as I can. Red water swirls down the drain; I’m more bloody than I thought. It’s when I’m almost finished that I realize that Lucian’s getting drenched by the water.
His black t-shirt sticks to him—I can see every line of his defined chest. Underneath all those clothes was a six pack?
“Eyes up here, Edie.”
Shock freezes me. When my gaze makes it back to his face, he’s wearing a wolfish grin. “I wasn’t looking at you,” I lie.
He chuckles.
It takes me a while to finish cleaning myself. Lucian turns off the water and wraps me in a towel and makes me sit again.
“Gonna get you some clothes,” is all he says, leaving a puddle of water behind with each step he takes.
I take a long, exhausted breath.
There’s no way Silas can find me here. And even if he did—I have Lucian. I never thought those words would ever be comforting. But here I am, sitting in his house, feeling safer than I’ve ever felt in my life.
The door creaks open.
He hands me a thick woolly sweater and a pair of sweatpants.
“Change,” he says simply. “I’m going to make tea.”
Then he’s gone again.
I shrug into the clothes—they are many sizes too big for me. I roll the arms of the sweater three or four times, just to make space for my hands. The sweatpants? I bring them all the way up to right under my bandaged chest, so I can walk without tripping.
Holding on to the nearby sink, I get to my feet.
“Did I tell you to stand?”
Lucian’s voice startles me and I end up losing my balance—but he’s there to catch me.
“You’re rather stubborn, Edie,” he chides, but there’s no anger in his voice. He picks me up and starts walking back to the living room. His clothes are still wet. “I don’t think you realize how wounded you are.”
Maybe he’s right.
I’m used to pain.
The physical pain I’m feeling is nothing compared to the emotional pain I’ve carried for as long as I can remember. “I don’t feel like I’m going to die.”
“Death isn’t the worst thing that can happen to someone.”
He sets me down on the sofa.
Lucian moves to the small kitchenette—the clink of silverware travels through the tiny space. I stare at the crackling fireplace. The warmth is comforting. Drowning in Lucian feels great, actually. Every thread smells like him.
He returns, kneeling in front of me, as he holds out a steaming cup.
I take it, my fingers shaking slightly.
“It’s nettle and dandelion root,” he says. “It’s supposed to help with all the blood you’ve lost.” His eyes study me. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”
“Thank you for the tea,” I offer. “I’m not hungry. I had supper.”
He pushes a damp coil away from my face—my hair has shrunk so much from the water that I’m sure it’s sticking up at odd angles. “Well, I’m going to give you some beets when you’re finished.” I think he’s trying to be stern. “You haven’t passed out, so I think you should heal well-enough. But I don’t want to take any chances.”
I smile sadly.
My heart feels like it’s breaking, not for a reason I’d ever expect. I’ve never felt this cared for before. And to know he’s not doing this because he wants something from me…
Lucian leaves me for a few minutes. He comes back wearing fresh clothes—a black t-shirt that shows off every muscle in his arms, and a pair of black sweats, similar to the ones I’m wearing. He has his hair pulled back with a head tie.
The air between us starts to feel thick with something and I feel terrible for feeling something that doesn’t seem platonic. I try to cut the tension.
“Why did you come?” I ask after a sip of the tea.
He’s sitting beside me on the couch now, sipping his own cup. His doesn’t smell like this bitter thing I’m drinking. I bet it’s hot chocolate.
Lucian wears a puzzled look. “You called.”
I nod. “Yes, but why did you come when I called? It sounded like you were asleep. You didn’t have to come if I woke you up from?—”
“Like I said, you called me, Edie. That’s it. You called. I showed up.”
I feel warm, but not from the tea. After his answer, we drink our cups of tea in a comfortable silence. By the end of it, I do start to feel better.
Lucian makes good on his promise to ensure I eat some beets. I do it begrudgingly, because I absolutely hate beets. I finish the last piece and hand the plate to him.
“Good girl.”
The words stroke flames deep inside me, like the crackling fireplace. I turn my head away so he doesn’t see my face. Sinking deeper into the sofa, sleep creeps up on me slowly. Pressing against my bones. The loss of blood, the pain, whatever happened with Silas in that boathouse that I can barely remember—it’s all left me exhausted.
Lucian notices.
“You should rest.”
I nod sleepily, curling up on the couch.
The next thing I know, I’m being lifted. Then I’m in a warm bed that smells even more like Lucian. He swaddles me in the sheets. Tiredness is pulling me under, my eyes fluttering closed. His footsteps start to retreat.
“Wait..” I say, weakly.
The footsteps stop. “Hm?”
“Stay with me, please.”
I don’t know where the words come from, but I know they feel right. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the tea. But I know I want Lucian here with me. I’ve never felt so sure of something in my life.
The bed creaks under his weight. He stays perfectly still beside me, and as I drift somewhere between awake and asleep, I hear him murmur, “You’re safe here, Eden.”
And for the first time…
I believe it.