Trigger Warning: This chapter contains emotional manipulation, obsessive behavior, and intense psychological tension. Read with care.
ðĩ Recommended music to read with:
"My Body Is a Cage" by Peter Gabriel (Instrumental)
"Unravel" â Tokyo Ghoul Piano Cover
"Experience" by Ludovico Einaudi
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Lucian hadn't fed in days. Not properly. Not deeply.
The night air clawed at his skin, restless like the ache inside him. The hunger hadn't just settled in his throatâit had sunk into his soul, staining every thought with the scent of Kyrell. Not even blood could rinse him away.
He stood beneath the wrought-iron terrace of the old estate, the moonlight slicing through his silhouette. Below, the city curled into sleep. Yet, Lucian was wide awake, possessed by the phantom taste of a boy he hadn't truly touchedâĶ not yet. Not in this life.
"You look like sin sculpted into bone," came the voice from behind.
Mara.
She wore black silk like a second skin. Her heels whispered against the marble, her scent tailored with intentionâviolet and venom. Her eyes devoured him, unblinking.
"You've been avoiding me," she said, stepping close, too close.
Lucian didn't flinch, but the cold in his stare could've shattered glass.
"I've been occupied."
"By him?" Her lips curled. "The one in your dreams?"
He said nothing. His silence fed her obsession.
"You speak his name in your sleep," Mara whispered. "Kyrell. Over and over. What is he, Lucian? A memory? A ghost? A man you can't have?"
Lucian turned his back to her, but the tremor in his hands betrayed him. She saw it. And like a predator sensing weakness, she pouncedânot physically, but with words sharp as fangs.
"You gave me your wrist once," she said. "Let me give you mine."
She extended it toward himâpale, smooth, pulsing.
Lucian stepped forward, then paused. His fangs ached, his hunger roared. But he saw only Kyrellânaked in shadow, fragile with something soft in his eyes. Not Mara. Never Mara.
He stepped back. "You're not what I want."
Her lips trembled. Anger. Hurt. Something unhinged behind her beauty. "But I'm the one who's here. Breathing for you. Bleeding for you."
He said nothing.
"I see what you are, Lucian," she spat. "But you don't even see what you're becoming."
She had returned again tonight, uninvited as always. Draped in crimson silk and veiled seduction. Her laughter echoed through his chambers like a song she sang only for him, one note shy of madness.
"I could give you everything," she whispered into the crook of his neck. "Why do you waste your eternity longing for a ghost?"
Lucian said nothing.
She touched his face, fingers trembling slightly. The gesture tried to mimic affection, but she wanted him. Wanted the power she thought he kept hidden under cold skin and cruel grace.
He allowed her presenceânot out of desireâbut because it was easier than facing the emptiness when she left.
Lucian watched Mara leave, her silhouette vanishing into the heavy velvet of the corridor shadows. She was beautiful, yes, but Lucian had long learned that beauty often masked the most vicious desires.
He returned to his private study, where candlelight danced over maps of forgotten empires and battlefields long turned to dust. Outside, the storm began to riseâthunder rolling like drums of war.
Lucian stood alone againâhungrier, colder, and haunted by the ghost of a boy whose name burned against his ribs like fire ðĨ.
Something stirred.
Not in the room, not in the house. But in the edges of the world.
Whispers from old bloodlines. Discontented voices. Lucian had felt it creeping for days nowâthe shift in energy, in loyalty. Eyes watching from beyond the reach of his influence.
They thought he had grown soft. They thought the name Lucian Morningstar no longer struck fear.
But Lucian had changed. Not weakened. Transformed.
And transformation... that was the most dangerous evolution of all.
He walked to the window and looked out into the darkness.
"Come," he whispered to whatever storm was coming.
And far away, where the veil between realms thinned, something answered.