Kai woke to silence.
Not the soft silence of morning, but the heavy quiet of being watched.
He blinked, the dim light of the early hours filtering through the narrow window. His eyes adjusted slowly… and then he saw him.
Lucias.
Seated casually in the chair across the room, one leg crossed over the other, black shirt open at the collar, his gaze fixed on Kai with a focus sharp enough to cut steel.
Kai shot upright, sheets tangling around him. "What the hell—"
Lucias didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stared, like a predator studying its prey.
"How long have you been sitting there?" Kai demanded, his voice cracking between anger and unease.
Lucias tilted his head, thoughtful. "Long enough."
Kai's pulse raced. "Do you make a habit of creeping into people's bedrooms?"
"Only when they keep me awake at night." Lucias's tone was calm, but something darker laced it—something that sent a shiver crawling up Kai's spine.
Kai scoffed, trying to shake the heat rising in his chest. "Oh, don't flatter yourself. You're not haunting my dreams."
Lucias finally leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze burned. "Dreams aren't the only place obsessions live."
Kai's throat went dry. He forced a laugh, though it came out thinner than he wanted. "Obsessed? You really think I'm worth losing sleep over?"
Lucias rose slowly, every step deliberate, his presence swallowing the room whole. "I don't think. I know."
Kai scrambled off the bed, putting distance between them. His back hit the desk, his hands braced against the wood. His chest heaved, but he refused to look away.
"Get over yourself," Kai hissed. "You're not in control of me. Not here. Not in my head."
Lucias stopped inches away, towering over him. His hand lifted—slow, deliberate—and brushed a strand of Kai's hair back from his forehead. The touch was soft, almost tender, but Kai flinched like it burned.
"You keep telling yourself that," Lucias murmured, voice low, velvet and fire. "But your eyes… they betray you."
Kai's heart slammed. He wanted to shove him away, to curse him, to scream. Instead, his breath stuttered, shallow and uneven.
Lucias's lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Fire always leaves its mark. And ice… always melts."
Kai's chest burned with fury—and something else, something that twisted inside him like hunger. He grabbed Lucias's wrist, shoving his hand away with more force than he thought he had.
"Don't touch me."
Lucias didn't resist. He let Kai push him back a step, but his gaze never wavered.
"Careful," Lucias said softly. "Every time you fight me, you pull me in deeper."
Kai's fists clenched. "I'd rather die than belong to you."
Lucias's smile vanished. His eyes sharpened, turning to steel. "We'll see."
With that, he turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
Kai's knees gave out, and he sank into the chair, his chest heaving. His skin still tingled where Lucias had touched him, his pulse pounding with betrayal—betrayal not of Lucias, but of himself.
Because for one fleeting second… he hadn't wanted the touch to stop.
---
In the quieter wing, Jas sat with Mark in the small common room outside their quarters. Jas stirred a cup of tea absently, their eyes distant.
"You're too calm," Jas said suddenly.
Mark glanced up from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Calm is survival."
Jas studied him, head tilted. "No, it's not. Calm is… hiding. Pretending nothing touches you."
Mark's jaw tightened. He looked away.
Jas smiled faintly. "But I don't think nothing touches you. I think… you just don't let it show."
Mark's chest tightened. He'd been called many things—cold, ruthless, machine—but never seen. Not like this.
"Don't try to understand me," Mark said quietly.
Jas's smile softened. "Too late."
The silence between them stretched—not awkward, but heavy with something unspoken. Mark shifted, suddenly restless, and excused himself with a muttered, "Get some rest."
But Jas watched him go with eyes full of quiet certainty. Mark wasn't as untouchable as he wanted the world to believe.
---
Back in his locked room, Kai paced like a caged animal. His hands shook, not from fear, but from rage—rage at Lucias, at this mansion, at himself.
He slammed his fist against the desk. "I won't break. I won't."
But when he closed his eyes, he saw Lucias's smile. Felt the ghost of his touch. Heard that voice whispering fire always leaves its mark.
And his chest burned all over again.