The heavy oak door of Lucien's private chambers clicked shut, locking out the residual murmurs of the palace and the lingering shock of the grand hall. The room was warm, cast in the soft, amber glow of hearthfire that danced against dark wood panels and heavy velvet drapes.
Lucien stood near the center of the room, still clad in his sharply tailored midnight-blue jacket, his chest rising and falling as the adrenaline finally began to recede. The moment Elian turned around from securing the bolt, Lucien closed the distance between them, his hands gripping Elian's waist and pulling him flush against his body.
