CHAPTER 40
Seraphina
I couldn’t breathe properly as he drew near. Every rational thought fled as my pulse thrummed in my ears. I wanted to run, I wanted to fight, but the ache in my chest demanded more, demanded him.
He reached for me, and I let him. My hands rested on his chest, feeling the strength beneath, the steady heartbeat I had memorized months ago. I shivered, overwhelmed by how completely he consumed me without touching me fully yet.
His lips hovered close, almost grazing mine, and I closed my eyes.
Every emotion, every piece of me that I had tried to hide, came forward.
I felt raw, exposed, terrified, and alive all at once and when he finally kissed me, it was fire, passion, need, longing, and possessiveness fused in that single, burning moment. I surrendered completely.
The moment his hands found my waist, the world narrowed.
There was no terrace. No city. No estate breathing around us.
Just him.
His fingers tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to anchor me, to remind me that I was standing because he allowed it. My pulse thundered in my ears, every nerve in my body aware of the space between us shrinking inch by inch.
“Look at me,” he said softly.
It wasn’t a command shouted. It was worse. It was quiet. Certain.
I lifted my eyes.
The intensity in his gaze stole the air from my lungs. There was no anger there tonight. No cold calculation. Only hunger. Possession. Something deeper. Something almost fragile beneath the surface.
His thumb brushed under my chin, tilting my face upward and then he kissed me, again.
Not rushed. Not reckless. Deliberate.
His lips moved slowly against mine at first, testing, feeling, claiming. I inhaled sharply as his other hand slid to the small of my back, pressing me firmly against him. The heat of his body seeped through my dress, grounding and overwhelming all at once.
I meant to resist. I always meant to resist but this time… I didn’t.
My hands rose to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt. I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palms, strong, controlled, unwavering. The contrast to the chaos inside me made my knees weaken.
He deepened the kiss.
Fire swept through me as his mouth claimed mine more fully, more possessively. I gasped against him, and he took the opportunity, angling his head, devouring every hesitant breath I offered.
It wasn’t gentle anymore. It was consuming.
His hand slid from my waist up my spine, fingers threading into my hair, holding me there as if I might disappear. His dominance wasn’t violent, it was certain and absolute. He wasn’t asking. He was taking, and I was letting him.
No. I was choosing him.
The realization made tears sting my eyes.
His lips left mine slowly, trailing down the curve of my jaw. My breath hitched as he pressed a kiss beneath my ear, then another along my neck. Each touch was unhurried and intentional. My body arched instinctively toward him, betraying every wall I had built.
“Sera,” he murmured against my skin.
The way he said my name, low and reverent, nearly broke me.
His mouth moved lower, brushing over my collarbone, then to my shoulder. He kissed me there, firm and lingering. As if he was memorizing the shape of me. As if he was marking me without leaving a visible bruise.
My fingers tangled deeper into his hair, holding him there. I wasn’t fighting anymore. I wasn’t trembling from fear. I was trembling because I wanted this, because every piece of me that had once resisted was now unraveling in his hands.
He lifted his head slowly, eyes dark, breathing heavier now. His hand slid up to cradle the back of my neck, thumb brushing along my jaw.
“You don’t run from me tonight,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t a threat. It was a truth.
I shook my head, barely able to speak. “I’m not running.”
Something shifted in his expression. Something softer. Almost disbelieving.
His lips returned to mine, slower this time. Deeper and more intimate. The kind of kiss that felt like surrender and possession tangled together. I melted fully against him, my forehead resting briefly against his chest as I tried to steady my breathing.
His arms wrapped around me completely.
For the first time, I didn’t feel trapped. I felt held.
His chin rested on the top of my head, and after a long, silent moment, he pressed a soft kiss into my hair.
Not demanding. Not consuming. Gentle.
“Stay,” he whispered, and for once, I didn’t question it. I nodded against him.
That was when the sound shattered everything. A slow, deliberate clap from behind us.
Lucien’s body went rigid instantly. His arms didn’t loosen, but his entire presence changed, protective, lethal.
We turned together.
Standing at the far entrance of the terrace, partially concealed in shadow, was a man I had never seen before.
Tall. Composed. Smiling faintly.
“Beautiful,” he said calmly. “Truly beautiful.”
Lucien stepped slightly in front of me without even looking back, shielding me with his body.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Lucien said coldly.
The man tilted his head. “And yet I am.”
My stomach dropped because the stranger’s gaze shifted from Lucien to me and he smiled like he knew me.
“Hello, Seraphina,” he said softly. “You look just like your mother.”
The words hit like a blade between my ribs.
My mother was dead. She had died when I was a child.
Lucien’s hand tightened around mine, not possessive now, but warning.
The man took one slow step forward.
“You’ve been lied to,” he continued, voice smooth as silk. “About many things.”
The world tilted.
Lucien’s voice was ice. “Leave. Now.”
The man only smiled wider. “I think it’s time she learns the truth.”
For the first time since Lucien had ever touched me, I felt something stronger than desire. Fear.
The wind shifted violently across the terrace, carrying the scent of rain and something metallic, sharp and unfamiliar.
“You’ve been lied to,” the stranger repeated calmly.
My fingers tightened in Lucien’s jacket. I could feel the tension in him now, not anger, not jealousy. Calculation.
“You do not speak her name again,” Lucien said, his voice low and deadly quiet.
The man only smiled faintly. “You’ve kept her sheltered. That’s admirable but you cannot protect her from her own blood.”
My heart began to pound so hard I could hear it in my ears.
“Lucien,” I whispered, not looking at him. “Who is he?”
Lucien didn’t answer. That said enough.
The stranger stepped forward into the light. His face was refined, composed, the kind of man who had never needed to raise his voice to be obeyed.
“She deserves to know,” he continued smoothly. “About her mother. About what she really was. About what you are.”
The air left my lungs. Lucien’s arm moved, sliding fully in front of me now. Protective. Absolute.
“You are trespassing,” Lucien said. “You have five seconds.”
The man’s eyes flicked to me again. There was no malice there. Only certainty.
“I will return, Seraphina,” he said softly. “And next time, I will not leave without truth being told.”
Before I could react, before I could even step forward, he turned and disappeared into the shadows beyond the terrace doors as if he had never been there at all. Silence swallowed us.
I slowly stepped around Lucien, staring at the empty entrance.
“You knew him,” I said quietly.
Lucien didn’t deny it and realization hurt more than I expected.
“You knew,” I repeated, my voice breaking.
He turned to face me fully now, hands coming to rest on my shoulders. Not forceful. Not rough. Steady.
“There are things I was waiting to tell you,” he said.
“Waiting?” I whispered. “Or hiding?”
Something flickered in his eyes, frustration, perhaps or fear.
“I was protecting you.”
I stepped back, “From what?”
He didn’t answer immediately and for the first time in months, the ground beneath me didn’t feel solid anymore.