For a few suspended seconds, it feels inevitable—like gravity, like fate, like I’m falling forward and he’s the only thing that will catch me.
My heart pounds. Every muscle in my body is strung tight. His thumb presses softly against my waist, steady but possessive, as if he could keep me there with that single touch. I wonder what would happen if I leaned in just a fraction more. I wonder what would happen if he closed the gap between us, if I let him.
Our mouths are so close that I feel the faintest brush of his breath. My eyes flutter shut, just for a heartbeat, and I know—without words, without reason—that if he kissed me now, I wouldn’t stop him.
Then something breaks the spell. A jagged edge of fear, a burst of memory:I am his prisoner. I am not safe. This iswrong, isn’t it?My eyes snap open, and I pull back abruptly, nearly stumbling over the edge of the rug. The candle flickers wildly, shadows scattering across the room.
I put a hand to my mouth, breath uneven, trying to make sense of the heat still pulsing through me. Lukyan doesn’t move. For a long, tense moment, he just stares at me—something wounded and hungry and impossibly human in his expression. He drags a hand through his wet hair, jaw clenched tight.
“Lock your door,” he says, voice rough, barely more than a whisper. There’s an ache in the command, something raw he doesn’t bother to hide.
He doesn’t wait for a response. He just turns and leaves, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving me alone with the thunder and the pounding of my own heart.
The silence is even heavier now. The storm rages outside, wind howling, rain beating furiously at the glass. Inside, it’s the echo of that almost-touch, the almost-kiss, that drowns out everything else.
My legs feel weak. I let myself slide to the floor, back against the bed frame, candle guttering beside me. I bury my face in my hands, struggling to breathe evenly. My skin tingles where he touched me—my arm, my waist, the ghost of his breath against my mouth.
I should be relieved he’s gone. I should be terrified of how close I came to crossing a line I can’t uncross. Instead, all I feel is the hollow ache of something lost, something forbidden.
For a long time, I sit there in the flickering half-light, every nerve alive, every thought tangled and raw. I’m more afraid now than I was of the storm, more shaken by what I felt—what I wanted—than by any threat he’s ever made.
I tell myself it was just adrenaline. Just fear. Just loneliness in the dark.
When I close my eyes, all I can see is his face in the candlelight, the tenderness in his touch, the way my name sounded on his lips when he whispered it before leaving the room.
I hug my knees to my chest, heart still racing. I don’t know what frightens me more—being trapped here with him, or the truth that I wanted him to stay.
***
The storm quiets as midnight creeps past, the thunder easing to a distant grumble. The rain slackens, drumming a gentler rhythm on the glass. The darkness outside is still absolute, but inside, my candle has burned low, leaving me sitting in a circle of dim, wavering light. I haven’t moved from the floor, arms wrapped tight around my knees, Lukyan’s touch still echoing across my skin.
A sharp knock at the door jolts me from my thoughts. I start to rise, the familiar flutter of anxiety kicking up in my chest.
Before I can answer, the lock clicks and the door opens. Nikolai steps in, flashlight beam flicking across the room before settling on my face.
He surveys me with the resigned annoyance of a man who’d rather be anywhere else. “You still alive?” His accent is thicker when he’s tired. He’s damp from the rain, hair pressed flat to his scalp, and his jacket smells faintly of smoke and the night.
I square my shoulders, trying for nonchalance. “I’m fine. The power’s out.”
“I know,” he says, setting the flashlight on the table. “We’re working on it. You’ll survive a few hours.”
He moves to the window, checks the latch, then circles the room as if he half expects I’ve pried up the floorboards or tunneled out. Satisfied, he grunts and glances back at me, squinting in the gloom.
“Anything else?” he asks, tone clipped.
I hesitate, pulse skipping, then blurt, “Where’s Lukyan?”
His expression sours instantly, suspicion rising behind his eyes. “Why? He’s busy. Not enough for you that you’ve already turned the place upside down?”
I shrug, forcing myself to sound indifferent, even bored. “I just figured he’d want to make sure his prisoner hasn’t run off in the storm.”
Nikolai scoffs, not buying it for a second. “He already checked on you. Risked getting shot in the dark for it too. You want to see him that badly, wait until morning.”
His words sting, and for a moment I can’t meet his eyes. I don’t know what I would even say to Lukyan if he walked through the door now.Thank you? Why did you touch me? Why do I feel like my world’s tilted every time you’re near?
Nikolai seems to sense my confusion, his annoyance deepening into something like disappointment.
“You know, you act tough, but you’re not like him. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you are.”
