The biting night air greeted them as they stepped out of The Hidden Tailor, opposite to the warm, perfumed interior. At this height, the city lights didn't hide the marvelous nocturnal spectacle, the stars and constellations were in full display with a delightful radiance. They glittered like diamonds scattered across a velvet cloth, mirroring the shimmering diamonds of Elle's necklace. The night was alluring, irresistible, just like the necklace he had given her. She walked beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm, the soft fur of the coat he had gifted her the first time protecting her skin of the cold.
Her new silver dress, a perfect blend of familiarity and novelty, made her feel both grounded and utterly transformed. Nobody has ever given me gifts like these… It's all so beautiful…
"Lucian…" she began, a blush creeping up her cheeks, her voice trailing off as she realized she didn't know how to continue. He turned to her, intense, inviting her to speak. The words, unbidden, flowed from her lips. "What's your favorite color?"
His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of amusement dancing within their depths. He scratched his beard, his expression thoughtful.
"You're kidding! You must have a favorite color! How long have you been alive? It's impossible that you don't have any!" she persisted with playful exasperation.
"It's not that," he said, his eyes locking on hers, a silent message passing between them. Elle understood, her gaze immediately shifting away, her blush deepening on her cheeks.
"Hazel blue… the color of your eyes," it was a low, husky murmur. The taxi stopped in front of them and soon it was taking them to their next destination.
Elle stared out the windowi, watching the streams of light flow through the sky like rivers of fireflies. Vehicles. They moved with an endless, mesmerizing rhythm, almost making her forget the battlefield in her mind, the desperate struggle against the urge to turn and meet his gaze. If she did, she knew, she wouldn't be able to resist the kiss that hung in the air between them, an absolute promise. She clutched her fur coat tighter, the soft material a comforting barrier against the growing tension. "You do love your fur…"
"My fur!" she echoed, her voice a touch too loud, then a nervous giggle was escaping her lips. She kept her gaze fixed on the window, her heart pounding against her ribs. He didn't say anything, didn't make a move, simply remained beside her, his presence a warm, magnetic force. He's enjoying this… and so am I. The thought, undeniable, slipped into her mind, a traitorous whisper of truth.
The 'Olympus Peak' was a towering monument of chrome and glass, a gleaming spire that pierced the inky expanse of the night sky. It was a beacon of opulence and power, its grandeur radiating outwards. Inside, the atmosphere was hushed and reverent, the murmur of conversation a soft, almost ethereal hum against the backdrop of classical music. A meticulously groomed host, his gaze sweeping over them with practiced appraisal, assisted Elle with her fur coat, his eyes lingering on the shimmering silver fabric of her gown. He then led them to a secluded table, strategically positioned to offer a breathtaking panoramic view of the sprawling cityscape.
"Tonight, anything you order is on the house, sir," the host announced in a smooth, deferential tone. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. We will be ready to take your order."
"Thank you," Lucian replied, a low, resonant rumble, as he gracefully assisted Elle with her chair.
"Thank you," she echoed, a soft, regal murmur.
"From here, one can witness the entire history of this city with a single glance," Lucian began, gesturing towards the cityscape visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows on their left.
Elle turned her gaze to the window. They were perched on the sixtieth floor, one of the highest points in the city, offering a bird's-eye view of its intricate tapestry. She understood his meaning.
To the north, a cluster of buildings rose in a symphony of Roman-Gothic architecture, their imposing silhouettes casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets below. As her gaze shifted southward, she observed a gradual transition in architectural styles, a visual timeline culminating in the sleek, modern aesthetic of the sector they occupied.
"Is it always like this?" she inquired, her voice laced with a hint of skepticism. "Free meals, free accommodations, all free for the hero?"
"I prefer not to disrupt the peace unnecessarily," he replied, his gaze meeting hers, and she could tell with certainty that he felt proud. "So, no. Most of the time, I maintain a low profile. You see, my presence here will inevitably cause an economic ripple. People will flock to the city frequented by Lord Lucian's wife."
Elle clicked her tongue with a flicker of annoyance crossing her features. Again with the wife thing? She thought, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"You shouldn't have said your name, by the way," Lucian added with a playful undertone.
"Why is that?" she asked, her curiosity eclipsing her annoyance. Her eyes widened as the realization dawned. If she hadn't revealed her name, she would have remained simply "the wife." But now, "I am Elle Devereux, the wife."
"Exactly," he said and she saw the spark of amusement dancing in his autumn eyes.
"When I get my key, you will beg me for forgiveness," she retorted, a sweet, poisonous whisper with a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
"The moment will come. Now… Are you ready to explore the culinary offerings?" Lucian asked, as he gestured towards the menu.
Elle nodded, her curiosity piqued. With a subtle gesture, she activated the menu, a holographic display materializing above the table. A dazzling array of dishes, accompanied by vivid images and detailed descriptions, filled the display.
"Lady Devereux," the host interjected, his voice a smooth tone, "might I suggest the 'Sylvan Symphony'? A delightful vegetarian creation, a harmonious blend of seasonal vegetables and exotic fungi, a masterful creation of our chef's artistry."
Elle's gaze flickered towards the suggested dish, the image zooming in noticing her interest. It was a beautifully arranged composition of vibrant vegetables and said mushrooms. It looked nice. "No, thank you," she replied, firm. "I prefer something with a bit more... substance." Her eyes met Lucian's, a playful challenge in their depths. "Just like my companion here."
Lucian chuckled, a low rumble in his chest as she just masterfully put in his hands the responsibility to choose something delicious. "We'll have the 'Crimson Cascade,' please. And for my companion, the 'Ember-Kissed Venison,' if you will."
The host bowed slightly. "Excellent choices, sir. And for dessert?"
"The 'Celestial Fruit Medley' sounds intriguing," Elle added, her gaze scanning the dessert options. "I'd like to try it." She said after Lucian confirmed that it wasn't something weird, with a subtle nod.
"A wise choice, my lady," the host confirmed. "A symphony of flavors, a celestial dance of sweetness and tang."
The meal was a culinary symphony, each dish a masterpiece of flavor and presentation. The 'Crimson Cascade,' a waterfall of succulent roasted meats, was a carnivore's delight, while the 'Ember-Kissed Venison,' tender and flavorful, was a monument to the chef's skill. While the 'Celestial Fruit Medley' was a delightful explosion of flavors, a harmonious blend of sweet and tangy fruits, just like the host had said.
"Exquisite," Elle conceded, savoring the last bite of the fruit medley. "Though I confess, a scoop of ice cream would have been the perfect complement."
Lucian nodded in agreement. "And it's so simple to prepare that it's ridiculous it hasn't been rediscovered yet."
"Just give away the recipe," Elle said, rolling her eyes playfully.
"Hm... I could, but," he began, a mischievous glint in his autumn eyes. "Don't you find it silly... and amusing? I wonder how long it would take them to rediscover it."
"I wonder how mad they'll be if they learned you had the recipe all along," she countered, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "I would be very angry."
Lucian chuckled, a low, mischievous sound. "Let's show them then."
"What? You're going to give them the recipe?" she asked with playful disbelief.
"We're going to cook a batch for all the guests in this room," Lucian replied, his eyes sparkling.
"We?" Elle asked, her brow quirking.
"We, princess. You're going to make history," he answered with a playful challenge.
"Take us to the kitchen. I need to give exact instructions to the chef for our next dessert," Lucian said to the host, his tone authoritative yet laced with a hint of playful mischief.
Lucian, with an air of practiced ease, led the way through the bustling kitchen, navigating the maze of stainless steel counters and steaming pots. Elle, less accustomed to the organized chaos, followed with a touch of clumsiness, a fact she noted with a flicker of annoyance. He's enjoying this, she thought, her eyes narrowing slightly.
They gathered the necessary ingredients, Lucian directing the process with a playful confidence that bordered on arrogance. The chef, initially hesitant, was soon swept up in Lucian's enthusiasm, his eyes widening with each step of the unusual recipe, making sure his apprentices followed every step. Then they put it to cool for a few minutes.
When the first batch of ice cream was ready, Lucian scooped a generous portion into a delicate glass bowl, specifically the ice cream Elle had prepared. He took a spoonful, his eyes closing in apparent bliss. "Magnificent," he murmured, savoring the creamy texture. "Truly magnificent."
The chef, his face alight with delight, was tasting his own creation as his apprentices were. The rule in the city was that something good should be replicable, easily, and no matter who replicated a process the results should be the same, or very similar. Gold is gold, no matter who is holding it. Elle thought, admiring their secular philosophy.
"More! We have to make more!" The chef said, and immediately began preparing more, his movements swift and efficient. "Lady Elle's dessert," he declared, his voice ringing with excitement. "A masterpiece!"
Elle's cheeks flushed crimson, a mix of embarrassment and reluctant amusement swirling within her. Lady Elle's dessert? she thought, eating the ice cream Lucian had prepared, she knew better that hers was a mess, this while her internal monologue didn't know what to come up with and just a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. This bastard! So this is how I would make history? she yelled inside.
As they returned to their table, a wave of applause greeted them. Guests raised their glasses in salute, their voices filled with gratitude. "What a delicious creation!" one exclaimed. "Lady Elle's dessert is truly sublime!"
"The wife of Lord Lucian has impeccable taste!" another chimed in, their words echoing through the dining hall.
"Their kids will be wonderful! I can imagine them! Too sweet little and precious little toddlers!" Another voice said.
Elle's jaw tightened. I am not a wife! Kids? With him?! she thought, her gaze fixed on the gleaming gold band on her finger. The ring Alexander had put on her finger. Why do I still have it? She resisted the urge to rip it off, knowing it would cause a scandalous scene in such a refined establishment. For them, it was Lucian's ring.
They settled back into their seats, savoring the creamy sweetness of the ice cream. "This is quite good," Elle admitted with reluctant praise.
"Indeed," Lucian agreed with a glint in his eyes. He took another spoonful of her ice cream. "Especially this one."
"You're incorrigible," Elle retorted, her eyes narrowing playfully. "You ate the one I made."
"It's the best one," he countered with a smile playing on his lips. "And you know it."
"It's not. It's too sweet. Yours is the best," she added. "Either you do things well, or you get rid of the mistake and try again."
"I like sweet things," he casually replied.
"You're so annoying, you know that, don't you?" She said. "Like all those times before. So persistent! So annoying! How did you survive though? I was sure I had stabbed you in really bad places."
"You did. I didn't count on you having blades, you hadn't used that trick before," he replied.
"You vio-..." She lowered her voice. "You forced a kiss on me! I was more than angry! It was my first kiss..."
"Oh..." He replied, so confident of himself. So annoying, and why am I smiling at his smile? she thought. "That explosion was too powerful it messed up my blink. I landed like a fly against a windshield. But luckily the surface where I landed collapsed and I ended right into the healing liquid of an old broken Genesis capsule underground the government palace. I healed there. I would have died otherwise, Elle. For one of your kisses. And now that I know it was the first, I would do it again."
"I dare you-" she couldn't finish. He did it. He kissed her, in the middle of all people.
The restaurant fell into a hushed silence, the guests' eyes wide with surprise and then they applauded them.
"Elle," he murmured, low and sincere, his eyes seemed to see everything she genuinely was. "You are the most beautiful, irresistible creature I've ever seen."
Elle's breath caught in her throat, her cheeks flushing crimson. Her eyes widened, a cocktail of shock, disbelief, and warmth that didn't feel bad at all. He said what? In front of everyone? Why is he doing this? Why does it feel... It felt so real.
They ignored the applause. Lucian held her gaze, his expression a mix of tenderness and raw desire. He radiated confidence and sincerity, his words leaving no room for doubt. She didn't know what to say.
The silence stretched. Elle's mind raced, full of conflicting emotions. She wanted to lash out, to deny his words, to push him away. Yet, a part of her, a treacherous, undeniable part, was thrilled at his declaration.
She finally found her voice, though it was barely a whisper. "You... you can't just..." she stammered, her gaze flickering away from his, then back again, her eyes searching his for any sign of deception.
"Can't I?" Lucian countered, low and husky again, with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I just did it." He reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of her jaw, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. "And I meant every word."
Elle's heart pounded against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed the turmoil within her. She wanted to pull away, to break the spell he was weaving, but her body seemed frozen, her gaze locked on his.
The guests around them gave them their space but some would look and she could feel their eyes on them, their attention fixed on the unfolding drama. Some watched with open curiosity, others with a hint of amusement, and a few with a flicker of envy.
"We should go," Lucian murmured against her ear. When did you get this close again?! "This place is getting a bit… too crowded."
Elle nodded, her throat tight, unable to speak. She felt disoriented, as if she had been plunged into a dream, a dream that was both intoxicating and terrifying.
Lucian rose, his movements graceful, and offered her his hand. Elle hesitated for a moment, then placed her hand in his, her fingers intertwining with his. His touch was warm and firm, grounding her in the midst of her emotional storm.
As they walked towards the exit, the host approached, his expression a mix of awe and professional composure. "A most memorable evening, Lord Lucian," he said, smooth again. "We hope you and Lady Elle will grace us with your presence again soon." He then handed a golden card to Lucian.
"Thank you," Lucian replied, taking the card. "We enjoyed the experience."
Elle nodded in agreement. "Thank you." She said, but not once looked behind, avoiding the curious stares of the other guests.
As they stepped out into the cool night air, Lucian paused, his gaze scanning the surrounding streets. A flicker of tension crossed his features, a subtle shift in his demeanor that Elle immediately noticed.
"Something's wrong," she murmured.
"I feel eyes on us," Lucian replied, low and serious. "Stay very close."
He led her down a narrow alleyway, the shadows deepening around them, the silence broken only by the soft click of their heels on the cobblestones. The tension was heavy in the air. Something was coming.
Whoever was watching them had ruined their moment, their fragile truce, their… something. She was grateful, in a way, because she didn't know how far things would have gone, but she was also furious. She would have preferred to push the boundaries herself, to control the outcome. Lucian pressed something into her hands. "Tier three personal shield," he said, his voice low and urgent. Elle's eyes widened as he stepped away, a shimmering bubble of light enveloping her.
"You bastard!" she yelled at him, with a mix of anger and fear. "You don't have your powers!"
Lucian was already drawing his knives from beneath his jacket, so fast they seem to materialize out of nowhere. Living shadows lunged at him, dark blades flashing in the dim light, attempting to slice and stab. He deflected and countered with a practiced ease, a blur of lethal grace. The shadows rolled and shifted across the cobblestones, their forms solidifying into the shapes of women clad in black stealth attire. Elle recognized them instantly. They were her sisters. Her father's dark hand, his assassins. Lucian is going to die, she thought, her heart sinking.
"He... he damaged my key!" One of them hissed, a venomous yet confused whisper.
"And mine," another echoed with disbelief.
"No way..." Elle whispered, her respect for Lucian growing with each passing second.
"Mine is broken too," the third and fourth confirmed, their voices filled with a mix of anger and fear.
Lucian attacked. The closest woman tried to stand her ground, but with her key broken, she was defenseless. Lucian ended her life devoid of hesitation. The other three followed, their attacks desperate and futile couldn't stop the warrior.
"You just killed four of the most dangerous women in the world," Elle pointed out with a mix of awe and morbid curiosity. "I thought you would spare them, like a foolish man, for a second. Well done!"
"Your father will send more," he said, flat and devoid of emotion.
"He will," she replied, her voice echoing his. "It's what you get for kidnapping me."
Lucian suddenly dropped to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Elle, her heart pounding in her chest, instinctively let the small crystal shield fall from her grasp and rushed to his side. A primal reaction, a surge of concern she hadn't expected.
"Did they scratch you? Their blades are laced with a potent neurotoxin, very difficult to neutralize," she began with worry.
"No, I didn't let them..." he replied, his voice strained. "It's just... I haven't slept in four days. My body is exhausted..."
"But... I thought Praetorians were beyond such limitations," she asked with her curiosity piqued as she helped him to his feet.
"It's harder for us to succumb to exhaustion, but not impossible," Lucian explained.
"Four days," Elle repeated, her eyes widening slightly. "Then you're going to bed. We'll see Boris tomorrow."
"No…" he countered, firm despite his weariness. "Your father will send more assassins, perhaps even his elite war-Praetorians."
"He won't," Elle replied with certainty. "Not yet." He'll want to know how we did it. He'll want to study the broken keys. He'll want to know how Lucian did it. "Let's find a hotel."
Elle hailed a hover-taxi. "Closest hotel. Now. And make it quick," she ordered, her gaze flickering to Lucian, who leaned against the wall, his weariness evident despite his attempts to mask it.
The driver, a wiry man with a knowing grin, glanced at the pair. The faint scent of alcohol, their disheveled appearance, and Elle's urgent tone painted a clear picture in his mind. He chuckled to himself and punched in an address. "Right away, lovebirds," he said with amusement.
The taxi sped through the night, weaving through the neon-lit cityscape. It didn't take long for them to arrive at a hotel with a heart-shaped sign and a gaudy, flashing entrance. Elle's eyebrows arched slightly, but she prefer not to care. "This will do," she muttered, paying the driver and ushering Lucian inside.
The room was decorated in a flamboyant, over-the-top style, with red velvet drapes, heart-shaped mirrors, and a single, large bed. Lucian, without a word, walked to the bed and collapsed onto it, his breathing deep and even. He looked like a fallen tree, utterly spent.
Elle stared at him for a moment, her brow furrowed. Is he dead? she wondered, leaning closer. She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. No, just exhausted.
She began to pace the room, her feet aching in the high heels. She glanced at Lucian periodically, her curiosity piqued by his utter stillness. The room's garish decor began to grate on her nerves, and her own exhaustion started to weigh her down.
Finally, with a sigh, she removed her footwear and lay down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Lucian. The soft mattress was a welcome relief, and her eyelids grew heavy.
Moments later, she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to Lucian's warm body. Her eyes snapped open, widening in surprise. He hadn't stirred, his breathing still deep and even. It was an unconscious movement, a primal embrace.
She stiffened, her body tensing as she tried to extricate herself from his grasp. His arm was a band of steel, an unyielding force that held her captive. He was a beast of pure strength, a Praetorian, and she knew she couldn't break free without her powers.
I'm going to hit the bastard for such insolence, she thought, her fingers curling into fists. But then, she remembered his words: Four days without sleep. And she wondered why. What had kept him awake for so long?
Her heart skipped a beat as Ada's words echoed in her mind: He spent all his keys in null fields. And the only time null fields had been used, at that scale, was the day... Of my wedding! The realization struck her. He had spent all his keys, depleted his reserves, to kidnap her. And that meant hours, days, perhaps even weeks of meticulous planning, of setting up the intricate web of events that had led to this moment. All driven by a single, unwavering goal: Me.
"Me," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her gaze softening as she looked at his sleeping form. She reached out, her fingers tracing the strong lines of his hand, her touch surprisingly gentle. How could I be this important for you if you don't even know me well?
A strange warmth spread through her chest, reluctant admiration and something akin to tenderness. I'll stay just for a moment, she told herself, her eyelids growing heavy. Just until I figure out how to escapet.
And then, she drifted off to sleep, her body nestled against his, her mind reaching a calm she had never experienced before. She murmured in her sleep:
"This is nice."