^
"Shameless," she muttered under her breath, eyes narrowing at the arrogant figure before her.
Lord Lucas merely smirked. "I'm amused by how bold you are. Even though you're a witch, I could do many things to you." His lips curled, fangs flashing slightly beneath the dim light.
Della stiffened, her breath catching. She didn't miss the unspoken threat in his words. And unlike before, she didn't have the strength to spar with him...her powers remained unpredictable, restrained by fear and inexperience.
"You're not wearing gloves today." He lifted a brow, gaze flicking to her exposed hands.
So he'd noticed.
She drew her hands closer to her chest, wary. "Please let me go," she whispered, not meeting his eyes this time. The fire had dimmed in her tone, replaced by something quieter—wariness... perhaps fear.
He studied her a moment longer before releasing her.
Della stumbled back, quickly slipping out of the room and down the corridor without another word. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest as she returned to her chambers, regret pressing heavily against her ribs.
She hadn't noticed it then, but the room she'd entered—the one where he had caught her...was one of the most heavily concealed places in the mansion. A warded door, a nearly soundproof chamber. Lord Lucas hadn't wanted her to see what was inside.
He ran a hand through his hair and turned back to the locked cabinet at the far end of the room. The stones were likely here. He wasn't sure, but the pulse of old magic told him this room was not ordinary. Still, he couldn't let her find them yet.
Not until he understood more. Not until the witches circling West Hill were dealt with.
He hadn't expected to feel protective over her. Yet the girl's very existence was tied to danger. If she found the stones too early, she'd be hunted. Slaughtered. He couldn't risk that...not now, not when everything he'd observed hinted that her mother might still be alive.
And Della... she didn't know.
⸻
Back in her room, Della pressed her palm against her chest, trying to steady her breathing. Her cheeks still burned. What was he thinking... trapping her like that? The way he pinned her, stared at her—it wasn't normal.
It was dangerous.
It was... confusing.
She groaned and fell onto the bed, dragging a pillow over her face. Her thoughts swirled with unease.
A few hours passed. The knock on the door startled her.
When she opened it, a maid stood waiting, eyes downcast.
"Mi'lord has sent for you, my lady."
Della hesitated. "Where is he?"
"In the dining room. He said you mustn't defy him... or you won't be fed."
The words unsettled her. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until that moment. And she didn't doubt for a second that the threat was real.
With reluctant steps, she followed the maid down the dim halls.
⸻
The dining room was large, adorned with candlelit chandeliers, its long table elegantly set with more food than any one man could eat. At the far end, Lord Lucas sat alone, casually chewing on a piece of meat.
He didn't look at her.
Della bowed lightly and moved to sit at the farthest edge of the table. But just as she touched the chair, his voice rang out.
"Not there. Sit here."
She bit the inside of her cheek but obeyed, taking the seat beside him.
A maid hurried to fill her plate, and Della's stomach growled loudly at the sight of warm bread, roasted vegetables, and perfectly seasoned meats. She wasted no time picking up her spoon.
"Easy there," Lord Lucas said, finally looking up at her. "I don't plan to starve you tomorrow."
Della paused. She understood what he meant—eat now or suffer later. She swallowed and said nothing.
After a moment, she raised her head. "Where's Oliver?"
At that, Lord Lucas's gaze hardened slightly. "Out on business. Why do you ask?"
"If I hadn't come down, you would've eaten alone," she replied simply. "Not healthy, you know."
He blinked. Then chuckled.
"Since when do you care about my health?"
She glanced away, cheeks warming. "Since never."
There was a beat of silence, then he leaned back.
"We're going out tomorrow."
Della lifted her head. "Where?"
"You'll see. Learn to trust your foster parent."
Her brow twitched. "Foster parent?"
The words sounded strange coming from him, like a mockery.
He smirked. "Or do you prefer something else?"
Her face burned. She looked away, aware of the maids behind them who pretended not to be listening. She focused back on her food.
Lord Lucas wiped his mouth with a napkin, still watching her with an amused gleam in his eye.
After the meal, he didn't press her further. She was escorted back to her room without another word.