She woke to fire in her bones.
Not heat from the room. Not the warm pull of morning. This was something deeper—restless, humming, wild.
Her body ached in the most sinful ways. Her thighs burned with sore pleasure, and the inside of her wrists were marked with faded bruises like a memory. Her neck throbbed faintly. She reached up and flinched.
The skin there was tender.
Two small punctures.
Not a dream, then.
Aria sat up fast—too fast. The silk sheets pooled around her waist, the ache between her legs sharp and unmistakable.
Last night happened.
The alley. The way he touched her like he'd waited lifetimes. The way he bit her. Claimed her. The way her soul felt… stolen.
Lucien Vale.
The man with storm clouds in his eyes and blood on his lips.
She looked around the room. High gothic ceilings. Velvet curtains. A massive bed carved from blackwood. The scent of him everywhere—spice, danger, and something dark like burnt sugar.
It wasn't just the sex.
It was whatever he did to her. Whatever was inside her now.
She wrapped the blanket tighter around her as the door creaked open.
Lucien entered shirtless, his damp hair clinging to his temples. A towel was draped over one shoulder. His chest—broad, scarred, glistening. His pants hung low on his hips, and Aria's mouth went dry.
He carried a tray: toast, soup, and coffee.
"I didn't mean to wake you," he said softly.
Aria didn't speak. Her heartbeat thudded too loud in her ears.
"I brought food," he added, walking closer. "You need it. After last night…"
She said nothing. Watched him.
Lucien placed the tray gently on the nightstand, then stepped back like she might attack him. Or bolt.
He looked like a sinner afraid of salvation.
She finally found her voice. "That soup better be magical."
"I had it delivered. I can't cook."
Aria blinked. "You live in a mansion and you don't cook?"
He gave a small smile. "I don't need to."
Something about the way he said it made her chest tighten. "Right. Because you… eat other things."
Lucien's smile dropped. "I didn't take too much."
"You drank from me." Her fingers brushed her neck. "You bit me."
His jaw clenched. "I'm sorry."
"Are you?"
Silence.
Aria looked at the bowl, then picked up the spoon with slow, aching fingers. Her hand trembled slightly as she tasted the broth. It was warm, buttery, and rich.
The silence wrapped around them like smoke.
Lucien sat on the edge of the bed, not too close.
"You kept passing out. That's why I brought you here," he said quietly.
"How noble of you."
He looked at her. "You're angry."
She scoffed. "I'm sitting naked in a stranger's bed, feeling like I've been dragged through a volcano, and yes, I'm very angry."
"You didn't say no," he murmured.
Her eyes flared. "You think that makes it okay?"
"No," he said immediately. "That's not what I meant. I mean… you weren't just a fling to me. I've never felt that before. I wanted to stop, but… I couldn't."
His voice cracked on the last word.
"Why?" she whispered.
He shook his head. "I don't know."
Aria set the bowl aside. Her voice was trembling now, not from fear—but from everything else. "You touched me like you already knew me."
Lucien's gaze dropped.
"Like you'd touched me before."
Still, nothing.
"I want the truth," she said. "Because I'm starting to think this isn't just about some crazy hookup."
He didn't speak.
"You're hiding something."
His shoulders tensed.
"You looked at me like I was oxygen," she said. "But now you're acting like none of this matters."
"It matters."
"Then talk to me."
He exhaled, jaw working like he was swallowing words.
"I can't," he said finally.
"You won't," she snapped.
"It's not safe."
She stood, letting the blanket drop. "What, are you gonna bite me again if I keep pushing?"
His eyes flared red for a split second.
Then it was gone.
Her breath caught.
"Oh my gosh," she whispered. "What are you?"
Lucien stood too, slow, hands lifted in surrender. "Don't be scared."
"I'm not."
"You should be."
"Try me."
They stared at each other, the tension sparking like static in a storm.
Lucien stepped closer. Not predatory this time. Almost… reverent.
"You felt it too, didn't you?" he asked. "The pull. The connection."
Aria blinked hard. "You were in my head, Lucien. I could feel you when you touched me."
"That's not normal," he whispered.
"No shit."
He looked tortured. "You're not just anyone. I didn't expect you. I didn't even know if someone like you still existed."
"What does that mean?"
Another pause.
His lips parted, then shut.
"Lucien," she said, voice sharper. "Tell me. Who the hell are you?"
Silence.
"I trusted you," she added. "I let you touch me—bite me—and now I don't even know what the fuck I've walked into."
Lucien turned away, pacing. "It's not simple, Aria. There are rules. Lines I can't cross. Things I'm not allowed to tell you."
"You sound like a cult member."
"I'm not part of a cult."
"Then what?"
He faced her again. His eyes weren't red this time. Just haunted.
"Last night… you made me feel something I haven't felt in centuries."
Her breath hitched.
"I've lived a long time. And I've never once brought someone back here. Never fed on someone and didn't erase them after." His voice softened. "But I didn't want to forget you. I didn't want you to forget me."
Her chest ached.
"So what? You're immortal now?"
He didn't respond.
"You're a vampire," she whispered.
Still, no answer.
She laughed once, hollow. "Oh my. I sound insane."
"You're not insane."
"But you are a vampire."
He didn't deny it.
"Do you kill people?"
"Not anymore."
"Wow. That's comforting."
"I don't want to hurt you," he said. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"But you did. You made me need you."
"I know."
He looked like he hated himself.
She looked away, blinking fast. Her throat burned, but not from the bite.
It was the betrayal.
"Say something," he begged.
"I should go."
"No."
She grabbed her clothes, moving stiffly. "You made me feel like I belonged to you. Like I was yours."
"You are," he said, barely audible.
She froze.
"You are," he repeated. "But not in the way you think."
"You're scaring me, Lucien."
"I don't want to."
"Then give me the truth."
He hesitated.
Her fingers clenched the fabric in her fists.
"If you say nothing right now," she said, "I swear, I'm walking out that door and I'm never coming back."
Lucien opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Turned away.
And said… nothing.
Her breath shattered in her lungs.
"Who the fuck are you really, Lucien?"
He didn't answer.