Chapter 21
Cece
The metal under my feet is cold, biting through the skin of my soles, but it doesn’t affect me.
Luc’s eyes are on me—quiet and searching.
I told myself I couldn’t sleep because my thoughts were too loud to ignore.
But that’s only half the truth. The other half is standing in front of me, wrapped in shadows and chaos and a war that hasn’t fully arrived yet, but is close.
So close I can feel it like breath on the back of my neck.
Xan leans against the brick wall, arms crossed like he’s carved from night and mischief. But even he doesn’t speak right away. His gaze flicks to me, and there’s something in it that softens, just for a second. Respect, maybe. Or a warning. It doesn’t matter. I’ve already made my choice.
I step closer to Luc and slide my hand into his. Because I need him to know I’m not afraid of the dark. Not if he’s in it.
Luc exhales. His thumb lightly brushes along the side of my hand, sending a shiver up my spine.
“I meant what I said,” I tell him. My voice is steadier than I expect. “I know I’m not from your world, Luc. I lack training. I don’t have a power that glows or bends space. But I have me. And I don’t want to sit on the sidelines of something that clearly affects you. Affects everything.”
His eyes close for a beat, like he’s absorbing that slowly, like it aches.
“I’m not here to be protected,” I continue, softer now. “I’m here to be part of this. Whatever this becomes.”
Luc opens his mouth to speak, but it’s Xan who breaks the quiet first.
“Well,” he drawls, pushing off the wall with a dramatic stretch, “she’s got more spine than most of the Order.”
Luc shoots him a look, but I catch the edge of a smirk on Xan’s face. Something approving. He gestures to me, casual as ever. “Guess it’s settled then. You’re in it now, Cece.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Was I ever out of it?”
Xan laughs, low and genuine, with no edge to it at all. “No, I guess not.” He gives Luc a nod and disappears back through the window, muttering something about going out in the city to find coffee or bourbon. Or maybe both.
And then it’s just us again.
“Xan,” I say, breaking the silence. “He’s . . . he’s something else. I like him. I’m glad you’ve had someone like that—someone constant. You’re lucky to have that kind of bond. It reminds me of Kate, in a way. Well . . . minus the whole war and saving worlds thing,” I add with a small smile.
Luc looks at me, a gentle smile spreading across his face, like I’m a puzzle he can’t believe exists. His fingers tighten gently around mine.
“You don’t have to prove anything,” he says firmly.
“I’m not trying to,” I reply. “I’m choosing to do this. To stand beside you. This isn’t about obligation, Luc. This is me deciding my destiny.” Something transforms in his expression then. I step closer. “But I need you to promise me something.”
His brow furrows. “Anything.” Though his face is uneasy.
“No more hiding things to protect me. I’m choosing to walk into this with you, so I need the truth. All of it. Even the parts that hurt.”
His jaw tenses. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I’m unsure how much of the truth I can share without changing everything.”
“Then let it change everything.”
That lands. I see it in the way his shoulders drop, like he’s been carrying the weight of two worlds and didn’t know he could set one down.
We stand there a moment longer, the city stretching below, stars struggling to cut through the light pollution. It’s not magical. Not in the way his world is.
But it’s ours. For now.
“Remember the night you saved me at the subway station?” I ask suddenly.
He blinks at the shift. “Of course I do.”
“I was terrified,” I confess. “But also . . . somehow I’d never felt safer in your arms.”
Luc’s hand finds my cheek, his thumb brushing the curve like I’m made of something more delicate than I am, his eyes locked on mine.
Then his mouth is on mine—hot, sure, and all-consuming. His hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer like he’s afraid to let go. There’s no time to breathe, no space between us, and I don’t care. Need roars through me, fierce and unrelenting.
In one seamless motion, he lifts me like I weigh nothing. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and he carries me inside without breaking the kiss—every step sure and controlled, like he’s done this in dreams and already knows the way.
When we reach the bedroom, he sets me down gently. But the moment my feet touch the floor, I’m on him again. My arms wind around his neck, my mouth hungry against his, the kiss deepening—urgent, consuming, like neither of us can get close enough fast enough.
I start lifting his shirt immediately, knowing I can’t wait any longer to feel him. Feel his weight on me. He helps, pulling it up the rest of the way until he’s standing in front of me, shirtless.
Oh. My God. Are you serious?
I lean back just enough to take him in. His shirt is gone—and so are my words.
He’s beautiful. Strength and control wrapped in something raw.
Dark tattoos wind down his sides, curling across his ribs and disappearing along his back.
I can’t make sense of the markings. They’re ancient.
Not meant to decorate, but to mark. To claim.
They don’t take away from his beauty. They amplify it. And they’re doing a hell of a job.
Like every line tells a story only his body remembers. The body of a warrior. A weapon. A man forged in something far harsher than I’ll ever know.
I reach out, my fingertips tracing the planes of his chest, committing every detail to memory as if touch alone could secure this moment—just in case it ever slips away. I reach for his waistband, but he stops me. Not in rejection, but with purpose.
His hands slide around my waist as he leans in, his breath warm against my skin. Slowly, he pulls me closer by my sweatshirt, lifts it over my head, and lets it fall behind me.
His eyes roam over me—slow, reverent, burning with something deeper than desire. And for once, I don’t feel self-conscious or unsure. I feel seen. Like I don’t have to hide or second-guess anything.
Just . . . confident.
“You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he breathes, his voice raw and uneven, like it’s been clawed out of him.
His eyes find mine, dark with hunger and aching too.
“You don’t know how badly I want you. How long I’ve been craving this.
How every glance, every brush of your hand, every moment together has been setting me on fire from the inside out.
I’ve tried to bury it, to be as patient as I can, but every second near you feels like I’m slowly coming undone.
And I am not a patient man.” His eyes drag over me, possessive and sure.
“Believe me when I say I’m going to enjoy every single moment of pleasing you.” His voice drops, almost a growl. “When you think you can’t take anymore, you can. Trust me. And I’ll make every second worth it.”
Shit.
My heart slams against my ribs, my breath coming faster, and for once I’m not scared of where this might lead. Nervous, hell yes. On edge. But not afraid.
Because I want him. Desperately. Just as badly as he wants me.
The rest of our clothes are torn away like an afterthought, and his hands are already moving—sliding from my shoulders to my waist as he drags me hard against him.
I close my eyes, letting tension and fear dissolve into the heat spreading between us.
His lips find mine again—slow and exploratory.
My hands thread through his hair, holding him close as the space between us disappears entirely.
Every touch, every whispered breath, every shiver of skin against skin pulls us deeper into something incredibly fierce.
His hands move across my body, one gripping my waist the other teasing me at my core until I’m barely holding on, my breath leaving me in ragged gasps.
He then moves his hands lower, gripping my thighs tight, claiming me. “Tell me what you want,” he demands.
“You”, I say. “Now. Right now.” I continue, barely recognizing the sounds escaping my lips.
“I didn’t hear you say my name,” he growls out, taunting me.
Part of me feels like I’ll die right here on this bed if he doesn’t hurry up and take me. “I want you, Lucien,” I call out, as a wicked grin spreads across his face.
As he positions at my entrance, he turns my chin toward him, eyes locked on mine, waiting—his gaze making it clear what he wants.
“Look at me,” he says, his voice low but firm.
“I want to see you.” The command in his tone is unmistakable, yet his eyes shine with open appreciation.
All I can do is nod. In this moment, I have no words left.
All I feel is want. All I want to do is comply.
And his gaze is telling me he wants nothing more than to watch me take him and then watch me come undone after I do.
When I feel him enter me, my breath leaves me in a gasp, as the weight and fullness of him overtake me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
We fall into rhythm, and time begins to blur.
It’s intoxicating, pure emotion, desire so charged it crackles in the air—rushing over me like a wave gathering force.
The intensity rises relentlessly until I can do nothing but surrender control, trembling, a slave to my own body, to him, the force cresting before I’m crying out into a blinding release, Luc’s name on my lips.
Later, as our breathing evens out, his fingers trace slow, soothing lines along my spine, his other arm wrapped beneath me like he never intends to let go. I’m tucked into the curve of his body, our legs tangled beneath the sheets, the hum of the city outside muffled by the stillness of the room.
Luc’s heartbeat is steady beneath my palm, grounding me. I close my eyes and breathe, for what feels like the first time in days.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs, his voice low and warm against my ear.
I nod, a slow smile tugging at my mouth. “God, more than okay.”
Luc brushes a kiss against my temple. “I’m no God,” he says, a sly grin pulling at his mouth, “but I’ll take the compliment.”
I laugh and nudge him playfully, but he doesn’t let me pull away. His fingers trace my cheek, tilting my chin up, his eyes dark and intent.
“Good,” he whispers. “Because I feel the same way.”
Then he kisses me again, slow and unhurried.
For a while, we just lie there. The candle on my dresser flickers against the ceiling, casting soft light across the walls. Everything feels unreal—and painfully real—all at once.
His arm tightens around me, like he senses the thought.
“You’re not going to disappear in the morning, right?” I whisper.
Luc laughs softly. “Not a chance. I’ve waited too long for this.”
My face is turned away from him, so I let myself smile freely. His words give me butterflies.
“Can I ask you something?” he says, his voice soft as he gently turns me toward him, his face a reminder of just how beautiful he is.
“Of course.”
“What do you want in life?” he asks, his gaze serious. “When you look back one day, what do you think would make you happiest?”
The question catches me off guard. But I’m glad he asks. He’s so guarded that any glimpse into his thoughts is really special.
“Love,” I say without hesitation. “That’s what matters most to me. The rest—career, success, the things that fulfill me in smaller ways—none of it compares. At least not for me. And not everyone is lucky enough to receive love the way they should.”
I watch him as he studies me, his attention unwavering.
“What about you, Luc?” I ask. “What do you want?”
He doesn’t hesitate. No outward reaction, except the slight widening of his pupils.
“I’ve feared it, in a way, my entire life,” he says.
“But if I’m being honest with myself, I know I want the same as you.
To be hopelessly, unbearably in love—and loved.
Where you’re both the one drowning in love and the sea itself.
The kind of love where you know the change it creates is irreversible. ”
He pauses, choosing his words thoughtfully.
“I’ve seen it before, and I never understood why something that makes you feel so much would ever be a thing you’d willingly choose.
My father’s love for my mother carried him to his own demise.
But I can also see how that kind of devotion, being so wholly given, can be the most sustaining, complete thing a being can feel. Or be offered.”
His eyes meet mine.
“That’s what I want. I suppose anything beyond that would be a gift.”
I’m still staring, speechless, when two sharp knocks hit the bedroom door, followed by Xan’s unmistakable voice.
“I hate to break up your celestial bonding ritual,” he calls, “but there’s movement. Two signals near the perimeter. Not ours.”
Luc stiffens beneath me. He doesn’t let go right away. His forehead rests against mine one last time, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know,” I say, already reaching for the sweatshirt tossed somewhere on the floor. “Go.”
He dresses quickly, movements smooth and practiced. But before he leaves, he looks back, his eyes unreadable.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he says.
Then he’s gone, the door clicking softly behind him.
I remain there, replaying his words, wrapped in his scent and the fading warmth of his presence lingering in my sheets.