I pressed my fingers against my lips, as if I could erase the memory of his kiss, but it remained vivid and impossible to ignore. The heat of it. The certainty. The way he had kissed me like the world already belonged to him.
Like I belonged to him.
The thought made my stomach twist.
I stood abruptly, pacing between the towering shelves. Books towered above me like silent witnesses, their leather spines glowing softly beneath the dim lamps.
My father used to bring me here when I was younger.
The memory surfaced so suddenly it made my throat tighten.
He would sit at the large table near the window, reviewing documents while I wandered between the shelves pretending to read books far too advanced for me. Sometimes he would glance up and smile, that quiet proud smile that always made me feel safe.
Safe.
The word felt foreign now.
Nothing about this place felt safe anymore. Not since Lucien had taken control of everything. Not since the world I had known collapsed into something darker, something far more dangerous, and yet, this house breathed him.
Every corridor, every room, every quiet corner of the estate carried his presence. His authority lingered in the air like a shadow that never fully faded.
Even here.
I stopped beside one of the tall windows and looked out at the gardens below. The rain had stopped entirely now, leaving the world glistening beneath the dim lights along the pathways.
Somewhere out there were guards.
Men loyal to Lucien.
Men who would obey his every command without hesitation.
The realization made my skin prickle.
I was surrounded by his power, by his control, and still, he had not locked me away.
He had not forced me to stay in my room or confined me like a prisoner.
Instead he had kissed me.
The memory made my breath catch.
Anger flared inside me again, sharp and bright.
How dare he?
How dare he touch me like that after everything he had done?
After my father.
My chest tightened painfully.
I gripped the edge of the windowsill, fighting back the sudden surge of grief threatening to drown me.
Lucien Viremont had taken everything from me, and somehow, impossibly, he had also awakened something inside me that refused to die.
Something reckless.
Something dangerous.
