Night changed the estate. It always did.
By day it was dazzling—light, chatter, clinking glasses, the perfume of roses trailing through every hall. By night it became something else. A place of whispers. Of half-seen shapes in corridors. Of secrets.
Adrian felt it the moment he stepped out of his room. The air seemed heavier. His own footsteps echoed back to him as if the house was listening. He shouldn't have been walking like this—wandering, restless, aimless. But wasn't that what he'd been doing since he arrived? Seeking something unnamed. Or maybe something he already knew.
The library door was ajar. A thin line of golden candlelight spilled into the hall. He pushed it open, and there she was—Selene.
She wasn't reading, though an open book lay on the table before her. She looked up the instant he entered, as if she'd been waiting. No, not waiting—expecting. That smile of hers, slow and faint, confirmed it.
"You wander too much," she said. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "It makes me wonder what it is you're searching for."
Adrian tried to answer lightly, but his chest was tight. "And what do you think I'm searching for?"
She tilted her head. The candlelight caught the sharp edges of her face, turned her eyes molten. "Secrets. That's what men come here for, even if they won't admit it. Secrets. Desire. They're always the same thing in the end."
Her words should have unsettled him, and maybe they did, but not enough to stop him from moving closer. His hand rested on the back of her chair. He bent slightly, so close he could feel her breath on his lips. "Perhaps," he murmured. "But some secrets are worth being led astray for."
She didn't argue. She kissed him.
This kiss was different from the night before—slower, more deliberate. No testing, no hesitation. They already knew what they wanted. Her hands found his hair. His traced her waist, the shape of her spine. His heart thudded hard enough that he wondered if she could hear it.
But then she broke away. Her eyes were narrow now, sharp, her lips still damp from the kiss. "Do you think you're the only one who craves?" she asked. "You're not. You're not the first to be invited here. And you won't be the last. This house—" she pressed her hand against his chest "—this house lives on desire. But desire has a price, Adrian. Always."
He should've asked her what she meant. Should've pressed her for truth instead of more kisses. But the warning in her voice only made her more irresistible. He pulled her in again, harder this time, and she let him.
They stumbled against the table. Books slipped to the floor. The smell of dust and parchment mixed with her perfume, with the warmth of her skin. He pressed her against the shelves. She gasped, fingers clutching his shirt, nails dragging down his back. Their bodies moved with a kind of desperation, as if they were trying to carve each other into memory before someone tore them apart.
And then—she stopped. Completely.
Adrian froze, breathless. Her eyes were no longer on him. They were looking past his shoulder.
He turned.
Liora.
She stood in the doorway, silent, watching. Her dark hair framed her face like a halo, though the expression she wore was nothing angelic. She had been there long enough—long enough to know.
A wave of shame crashed through him. Shame, and something else. Excitement? The danger of being seen. The certainty that nothing would be the same now.
Liora didn't look angry. She smiled. Not kindly—more like someone who'd stumbled on a secret they could use. "I see the house is already teaching you," she said. Her voice was soft, but it cut through the silence like glass. "But secrets… they never belong to one person alone."
Selene's hand tightened on his wrist. Her amber eyes gleamed with challenge, not fear. Adrian felt caught between them, bound like prey between two predators.
Liora stepped inside, closing the door behind her. The sound was soft, but final.
"Perhaps," she said, eyes flicking between them, "we should share our secrets more openly."
Adrian's pulse thundered. He should've walked away. He should've said no. But his body betrayed him, his mind too clouded with desire.
The game had changed. He wasn't sure if he'd chosen to play—or if the game had chosen him.