Liora lay curled against Lucien's chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns across his bare skin, as if she needed to memorize him before the moment slipped away. His hand rested on her back, warm and possessive, a silent promise he hadn't yet put into words.
She didn't speak.
Neither did he.
The silence wasn't heavy; it pulsed, like something alive. Charged. Dangerous.
Finally, Lucien shifted, his lips brushing her temple as he murmured, "You're trembling."
"I'm not cold," she whispered.
"I didn't say you were."
A beat passed, and then she lifted her gaze to his. In the dim light of the chamber, he looked almost unguarded. Human. And yet, behind those midnight eyes, something darker stirred, like a man who'd been waiting years to feel anything, only to find it all rushing in at once.
"Lucien…" she began.
"I know."
He didn't ask her to explain. Didn't push. But when he pulled her closer, his grip was tighter...desperate in a way he refused to show on his face.
