Chapter 7 — A Heart Built for Violence
The mansion drowned in crimson alarm lights.
Rain battered the windows relentlessly.
Footsteps echoed downstairs like war drums beneath marble halls.
And Lucien—
Lucien looked beautiful holding a gun.
Evelina hated that realization instantly.
Hated the way black steel sharpened his already dangerous elegance.
The way violence fit him too naturally.
Like he had been born for ruin.
“I’m going hunting.”
The words still hung heavily between them.
Cold.
Deadly.
Certain.
Lucien turned toward the staircase.
Evelina grabbed his wrist before he could leave.
The contact stopped him instantly.
Everything stopped him instantly.
“Don’t die,” she whispered.
Three tiny words.
Yet they hit Lucien harder than bullets ever could.
His expression shifted.
Not softer.
Something worse.
Something unbearably emotional hidden beneath all that control.
Because no one had ever said those words to him like that before.
Like his survival mattered personally.
Slowly—
he looked down at her hand gripping his wrist.
Then back at her face.
And God.
The way he looked at her now—
like she had reached inside his chest barehanded—
nearly shattered her completely.
“You really are dangerous for me,” he murmured quietly.
Gunshots thundered downstairs again.
Neither of them moved.
Lucien lifted his free hand slowly toward her face.
Carefully.
Always carefully with her.
Like she was something sacred inside his brutal world.
His knuckles brushed her cheek.
Warm.
Gentle.
A touch so soft it physically hurt.
“If anything happens,” he whispered, “you lock yourself inside the bedroom and you do not come out unless I open that door myself.”
Evelina swallowed hard.
“And if you don’t come back?”
Lucien stared at her silently.
Then smiled faintly.
A sad beautiful smile sharp enough to bleed from.
“I always come back.”
Another crash exploded downstairs.
Men shouting.
Glass breaking.
Violence climbing rapidly through the mansion.
Lucien’s eyes darkened instantly.
Predator again.
Monster again.
But before he turned away—
his gaze dropped briefly toward her mouth.
And suddenly the air changed.
Heavy.
Burning.
Breathless.
Evelina felt her pulse stumble violently.
Because this—
this might be the last moment before bloodshed swallowed the night whole.
And apparently Lucien felt it too.
He stepped closer slowly.
Dangerously slowly.
Until her back brushed against the wall once more.
Until every inhale tasted like cedarwood and storm rain.
“You should not look at me like that right now,” he murmured roughly.
“How am I looking at you?”
His jaw tightened.
“Like I’m something worth waiting for.”
The confession nearly ruined her.
Lucien’s restraint snapped quietly after that.
Not violently.
Not dramatically.
Just one final thread breaking.
His hand slid carefully against her waist.
Possessive.
Protective.
Reverent.
Then finally—
finally—
he kissed her.
God.
The world disappeared instantly.
The alarms.
The thunder.
The gunshots.
Gone.
Only him remained.
His mouth moved against hers like restrained destruction finally losing control.
Slow at first.
Almost cautious.
Like he was terrified she’d disappear if he touched her too hard.
Then Evelina kissed him back.
And Lucien broke completely.
His hand tightened against her waist instantly.
A rough breath escaped him.
The sound alone sent heat spiraling through her entire body.
He kissed like a man starved.
Like someone who had spent years surviving darkness only to suddenly taste light.
Desperate.
Possessive.
Devastating.
Evelina’s fingers slid into his rain-damp hair.
Lucien actually shuddered.
Actually lost composure.
And somehow that affected her more than anything else.
Tension snapped through the hallway violently.
The kind that made hearts race and lungs forget breathing entirely.
Lucien pulled away only slightly.
Forehead resting against hers.
Breathing uneven now.
His usually perfect control lying in ruins at her feet.
“You’re going to destroy me,” he whispered shakily.
Evelina’s chest tightened painfully.
Because the terrifying thing was—
he sounded grateful for it.
Another gunshot exploded downstairs.
Reality crashed back instantly.
Lucien cursed softly beneath his breath.
Then his expression hardened once more.
Back to the devil.
Back to violence.
But before leaving—
he pressed one final kiss against her forehead.
Gentle.
Tender.
The kind of affection that belonged to a man deeply, dangerously gone.
“Lock the door,” he ordered quietly.
Then his dark eyes met hers again.
And for one devastating second—
Lucien Moreau looked terrified.
Not of dying.
Of leaving her behind.
He disappeared down the staircase like death dressed in black.
Gun in hand.
Bloodlust in his eyes.
Her lipstick still stained faintly across his mouth.
Evelina stood frozen in the crimson hallway.
Heart racing wildly.
Lips burning from his kiss.
And somewhere deep inside her—
something irreversible had already happened.
Because monsters were supposed to inspire fear.
Not longing.
Not tenderness.
Not this unbearable aching need to be loved by them.
Downstairs—
another scream echoed through the mansion.
Then silence.
Cold.
Heavy silence.
And suddenly—
Evelina realized something horrifying.
If Lucien didn’t come back tonight—
she would follow him into hell herself.