Didn’t think about the Collegium.
Or the cafeteria.
Or Seraphine’s blood.
Or the name she had seen in the book.
None of it felt as real as this.
As him.
She rested her head against his shoulder, body softening completely against him, the last fragments of tension dissolving into the quiet, controlled space of the observatory.
The ocean crashed endlessly beyond the glass dome, waves breaking against the dark cliffs in a constant, hypnotic rhythm.
The estate was silent.
No voices.
No interruptions.
No one watching.
No one interfering.
And for the first time in weeks, Lyra felt something close to peace.
She didn’t think about going back at all.
* **
Caelum’s hand continued its slow, sensual path along her thigh, fingers slipping just beneath the lace, teasing without demanding. His voice remained low, intimate, wrapping around her like the potion’s haze.
“You see how they are,” he said softly, lips brushing her ear. “Seraphine, Adrian, all of them. They see you happy with me and it terrifies them. They want to tear us apart because they can’t stand that you chose me. That I chose you. They’ll say anything — make up any story — to make you doubt what we have.”
Lyra nodded slowly, the name Joseph Knightly flickering once more in her mind, but it felt distant now, blurred at the edges.
“But… the book,” she whispered. “Joseph Knightly. It was marked. Seraphine said he disappeared after —”
Caelum’s fingers paused on her thigh, then resumed their slow, soothing stroke, but his voice carried a sharper edge beneath the velvet.
“You’re doubting me already?” The words were quiet, but they cut deep, cold and aloof. “After everything I’ve done for you? After I took you in when no one else would? You sound just like your family, Lyra. Always questioning. Always looking for reasons to pull away. They would have dragged you to The Architect for punishment the moment you stepped out of line. Unlike me. I would never do that to you. I protect you. I keep you safe. But if you keep listening to their poison, maybe you don’t deserve that protection.”
The cruel words landed like a slap, sharp and stinging. Lyra flinched inwardly, guilt flooding her chest. Her family. The white room. The Architect. The punishments. The shame. She had never told him about the Architect — or had she? The potion made everything fuzzy. Doubt crept in, heavy and suffocating.
“I… I didn’t mean —” Her voice trembled. “I never told you about the Architect. I only ever mentioned the white room. How did you know about him dragging me there..?”
Caelum’s hand stilled for the briefest second on her thigh — a tiny slip, a crack in his perfect control. His gray eyes flickered, cold and calculating for half a heartbeat, before he recovered with ruthless smoothness.
His voice turned colder, crueler, laced with icy anger.
“You did reveal it,” he said, voice low and steady, with absolute conviction. “Last week, in our room, when you were half-asleep after the potion. You told me everything. About the Architect. About how your parents dragged you there for the smallest disobedience. About how they punished you until you learned to stay quiet and obedient. You don’t remember because you were so tired, so overwhelmed, so broken from their years of abuse. That’s why you need me, Lyra. Your memory isn’t reliable without me. You forget things. You twist them. You make up stories in your head because your family trained you to distrust everything good. But I remember. I keep you safe from your own mind.”
The words hurt — cruel in their certainty, making her doubt herself, her memories, her sanity. Guilt crashed over her in waves. She had questioned him. She had doubted. She was just like her family after all — ungrateful, suspicious, broken, unreliable.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t mean to doubt you. I just… the name in the book… I thought I never said anything about the Architect…”
“Shh.” His voice softened instantly, the cruelty melting into soothing warmth as he pulled her closer, lips brushing her forehead, then her temple, then the mark on her neck. His hand returned to her thigh, stroking higher, more sensual now, fingers slipping beneath the lace to tease the sensitive skin there, grounding her in his touch. “It’s all right, my perfect girl. I know it’s hard for you. Your family trained you to suspect everything good. They broke you with their rules and their punishments and their Architect. But I’m not them. I would never bring you to the Architect. I would never punish you for existing. I only want to protect you. To keep you safe. To make you mine completely.”
