Bella and I were still politely nodding along to Esme and Carlisle's warm chatter letting their soft spoken charm wash over us like a practiced symphony. Esme's voice had that motherly cadence every word dipped in honey while Carlisle radiated this calm authority that made you want to straighten your posture even if you weren't doing anything wrong.
Across the room, the rest of the Cullen family had already claimed their seats on the sprawling sofa. Alice and Jasper looked like a matched set, their hands brushing lightly as if gravity itself insisted they stay connected. Emmett lounged back with the kind of easy sprawl that screamed confidence while Rosalie sat elegantly upright every line of her posture sharp enough to cut glass. Together, they looked less like a family and more like some royal court frozen mid-portrait.
"Please, sit down," Esme urged kindly, her tone gentle but threaded with the kind of expectation that made it impossible to refuse.
Bella obeyed at once sliding into a sofa with a nervous sort of grace. I was just about to follow, smoothing my hands over my jeans in that automatic fidget I did when feeling on display when.....
"Amara."
The voice curled through the air, smooth and low, brushing down my spine like it had every intention of setting off alarms I didn't know I had. My heart stuttered, tripped, then took off in a reckless sprint traitor that it was.
I turned.
Lucien.
He walked in as if the whole room had been waiting for him to arrive. Black jeans, sharp and fitted. A crisp white shirt that somehow managed to look casual and expensive at the same time. A black jacket that had to be custom-made nothing off a rack fit like that. His blond hair caught the golden lamplight like strands spun from sunlight itself. But it was his eyes amber, warm, knowing that pinned me in place. They didn't just look at you they looked into you, like they'd already memorized the things you didn't say.
My throat went dry. For a second, I forgot the very human skill of breathing.
"We meet again," he said, his tone warm, like we were old friends catching up in the middle of a coffee shop instead of strangers in the middle of a vampire family's living room. "What a small world."
"Yeah," I managed, pulling my lips into what I hoped passed as a smile but probably looked more like a hostage situation. "Small world."
(ISmall world? Sure. More like small town, creepy coincidence, why-is-this-happening world.)
Lucien closed the distance between us with an ease that made my pulse misbehave all over again. He stopped just in front of me, close enough that I could catch the faint, clean scent of him something sharp, something sweet, something dangerous. My chest tightened, my heart pounding so hard it was practically drumming against my ribs.
I pressed my palm against my thigh, trying to ground myself, silently begging my own body to calm the heck down. Cool. Collected. Totally not rattled by Blondie McDangerSmile over here.
And still… when his smile deepened, like he could hear every frantic thought running through my head, it felt like the floor tilted just slightly beneath me
From the sofa, Bella tilted her head. "Wait… you know him?"
I glanced her way, then back at Lucien's too-knowing smirk. "Yeah. We bumped into each other at the grocery store."
Bella blinked. "Grocery store?" she repeated under her breath, like she couldn't picture a man like him pushing a cart of milk and bread.
Lucien's lips curved like he'd heard every sarcastic thought bouncing through my skull. His gaze flicked quick, sharp toward Alice, a look so subtle I almost missed it. Almost.
In the next heartbeat, Alice popped up from the sofa like a spring-loaded doll and latched onto Bella's arm with way too much enthusiasm.
"Come on, Bella!" she chirped, bouncing on her toes. "You have to see this!
I opened my mouth, hands half-raising in protest. "Wait..."
Bella barely had time to blink, let alone argue, before Alice was already steering her toward the hallway. Her wide eyed look over her shoulder said it all: I'm being kidnapped. Send help.
"Bella " I tried again, panic bubbling in my throat. My hand twitched forward, ready to snag her sleeve.
But Lucien's voice slid in, smooth as melted chocolate, drowning out my protest.
"So," he said, just one word, but it froze me in place like a spotlight had landed on me. "Have you gotten used to Forks yet?"
I snapped my head toward him, torn between glaring and fainting. His eyes held mine, steady, patient, as though Bella's sudden abduction wasn't even worth noticing.
"Yeah," I muttered, swallowing hard. "It's… damp. Very damp."
The understatement of the year. Forks was basically a rainforest cosplaying as a small town.
Lucien chuckled, low and warm, the sound curling around me like velvet ropes I definitely hadn't agreed to. It slipped into my chest, coiling in my ribs before I could shove it away.
Lucien's gaze lingered on me, head tilted just so, like he was reading more than my expression. His voice dropped, softer now, carrying none of the playful edge it had moments ago.
"I heard," he said carefully, "that you lost your parents… in an accident."
The words landed heavy, thickening the air between us.
I froze, breath catching for a beat before forcing myself to nod. My voice came out steady, though my chest felt anything but.
"Yeah. That's right."Something twisted in my stomach. Not guilt, exactly more like the awkward weight of pretending grief I didn't fully own. But the way he said it quiet and sincere made it hard to shrug off. He wasn't handing me pity; it was more like recognition. As if he carried the same scar even if he didn't show it.
His amber eyes softened, just a fraction, though the curve of his mouth didn't vanish. If anything, his smile gentled. "I'm sorry," he said, and it wasn't the empty politeness people usually threw out. It sounded lived in, like he carried the weight of knowing what loss felt like. "No one should have to go through that so young."
Something in my stomach twisted. It wasn't pity he was giving me thank God. It was something else. Understanding. Like he had miles of grief folded neatly inside him, and even if he didn't unpack it, he still recognized the shape of mine.
"Thanks," I said quickly, I curved my lips into something resembling a smile. "But I manage. Coffee, sarcasm, and school are surprisingly effective coping mechanisms, you know?"
That earned me a low chuckle warm and rich. It rolled through the space between us and traitor that I wasmy pulse tripped over itself again.
For a moment, there was this strange, magnetic pull like gravity had shifted and decided the two of us were supposed to orbit closer. It wasn't romance, not the kind you read about in dog eared paperbacks. No, this was sharper, more electric, the kind of charge you feel in the air before a storm breaks.
Lucien studied me quietly, tilting his head like I was a puzzle piece he already knew where to place. His voice brushed soft against me.
"You seem tense. Don't be. You're safe here."
Safe.
The word caught me off guard, nudging something in my chest that had been wound tight since dying and coming to this world, waking up in this unfamiliar life. No one had really said it like that before as if they actually meant it, as if it was more than a line.
(Safe, huh? In a mansion in the middle of nowhere, with a man who looks like he could bench press a car and smile while doing it. Sure. Totally safe. My therapist would be thrilled.)
And then so casually it felt almost old-fashioned he extended his hand to me. "Would you like a tour of the house?"
I glanced around, suddenly aware of how quiet the living room had become. No Alice's chatter, no Bella's nervous fidgeting, no Esme or Carlisle with their warm, practiced hospitality. Just me and him. The timing felt too perfect.
Still, there he was standing tall impossibly self assured his smile steady but not demanding. Charming, yes. But not pushy. Just… waiting.
And my hand, the traitorous thing, twitched like it wanted to close the gap between us.
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