The storm had finally passed, leaving the city glistening under a wet, golden sunrise.
Elara sat on the edge of the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows. She tried to convince herself she was calm. That she had a grip on her racing heart, on the tension that had been building with Lucien for days.
She was lying.
The second she felt him step into the room, everything changed.
He leaned against the doorway, dark eyes scanning her, taking in every inch of her. The way the blanket clung to her, the slight flush on her cheeks, the rapid pulse he could practically feel in her throat.
"Elara," he said softly, but the low growl underneath made her pulse hammer.
She didn't respond. She couldn't. Every part of her body was screaming at her to run—and at the same time, to stay.
He stepped closer. Closer than necessary. Her heart lurched with every inch.
"Are you going to keep avoiding me?" he asked. His voice was smooth, almost teasing—but there was a danger lurking under the surface, a raw edge that made her blood run hot.
"I'm… not avoiding you," she whispered, her voice shaking despite her best efforts.
Lucien raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Really?"
Before she could answer, his hand brushed hers. Just a casual touch… except it wasn't casual. It was electric. A jolt shot through her entire body.
"Lucien—" she started, but he cut her off with a single, deliberate motion.
He leaned in. Closer. Her breath hitched.
Their faces were inches apart. The world shrank until it was only them.
"Don't—" she whispered, barely audible.
But it was too late.
Their lips touched accidentally. A fleeting brush, a spark that made her heart seize. Her eyes went wide. His dark eyes mirrored shock—and something else, something dangerous, intimate.
"I—" she stammered, pulling back instinctively, hands trembling.
Lucien didn't move away immediately. He stared at her, chest rising, jaw tight, the heat in his gaze almost suffocating.
"Accidental," he muttered, voice low, rough. "Right?"
"Yes… accidental," she said, though she couldn't bring herself to move farther away. Her body still tingled where his lips had brushed hers.
He leaned back slightly, just enough to break the moment—but not enough to erase it.
"You know," he said slowly, voice dark, almost a whisper, "that was not entirely an accident."
Her breath hitched again. "I—"
"No. Don't lie to me." His gaze pierced hers, sharp, consuming. "You felt it too. The moment, the pull, the… chemistry. Admit it."
She swallowed hard, unable to speak. Because he was right. She had felt it. Every nerve, every heartbeat, every shiver that ran through her body the moment their lips met, accidental or not.
Lucien's hand brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, lingering near her jaw. "This is dangerous," he said quietly, almost hoarse. "Because once it happens… it changes everything. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she whispered, voice trembling. Her chest burned, her pulse raced, and her thoughts tumbled into chaos.
He straightened, a flicker of control returning. His gaze softened slightly—just enough to make her heart ache.
"Good," he murmured. "Now, get some rest. Tomorrow… we deal with the world. But tonight, don't forget… you're mine. And I'm yours. Accident or not."
Elara's heart hammered as he left the room, leaving her trembling, breathless, and completely, utterly lost.
Because for the first time, she admitted it—to herself if not aloud:
She didn't want to resist him anymore.