My breath catches in my throat. “Lucien?—”
“Let me finish,” he interrupts, his voice gentle but firm. “I will never let you go. Not now, not ever. If you try to leave me, I’ll find you. If someone tries to take you from me, I’ll destroy them. You are mine, Seraphina. And I am yours.”
“I’m obsessed with you too,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I think about you constantly. I dream about you. I need you like I need fucking oxygen.”
His eyes darken at my confession. “Say it again.”
“I’m obsessed with you,” I repeat, louder this time. “I love you. And I’m never letting you go either.”
A slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to chain you to my bed.”
I laugh, the sound rusty and raw. “Like that would stop me.”
He pulls me closer, his arms wrapping around me in a hold that’s both possessive and protective. “Try me, Little Sinner. I fucking dare you.”
Epilogue
LUCIEN
Power tastes better when you’ve earned it.
Two years since I took control of The Sinners, and I still get that same fucking high every time I walk out of a council session. Vincent’s ghost haunts the halls of Black Crown, but his legacy is mine now. I’ve rebuilt it in my image, made it stronger, better.
The soft glow of the living room lamp guides me to her.
Seraphina sits curled on our couch, a stack of papers spread across her lap and a red pen tucked behind her ear. Her hair’s pulled up in one of those messy buns she thinks looks professional but just makes me want to yank it free and fuck her against the nearest wall. She’s wearing my worn freshman St. Augustine sweatshirt—the one I caught her stealing last week—and those ridiculous fuzzy socks with the little cat paw prints on them.
“Jesus, how many essays can one person grade?” I ask, dropping my keys on the entry table.
She looks up, those hazel eyes lighting up when they land on me. Even after all this time, that look still does something to my chest. “Don’t get me started. These freshmen think a comma splice is a new online dance.”
I cross the room and bend down, capturing her mouth with mine. She tastes like coffee and that lip balm. I deepen the kiss, my hand sliding into her hair, and she makes that little sound in the back of her throat that tells me she wants more.
“Don’t work too long,” I murmur against her lips. “I’m going to change, then we’re eating dinner. I’m fucking starving.”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the smile she tries to hide. “Yes, Your Highness.”
I tap her hip as I walk past. “Keep that up and I’ll make you call me that later.”
Her laugh follows me down the hall to our bedroom.
I strip off my suit, tossing the pieces carelessly across the chair. The meeting ran longer than it truly needed to.
After pulling on a pair of dark loggers and a black henley, I run my hands through my hair to tame it.
When I walk back into the living room, Seraphina’s still hunched over her papers, but she’s made progress. The stack on her right is considerably larger than the one on her left.
“Food’s in the kitchen,” she says without looking up. “I ordered from that Italian place you like.”
I grab two plates and bring them to the coffee table, not bothering with the dining room. We’ve fallen into this pattern—comfortable, domestic, nothing like the performance we used to put on. No more fancy dinners where we sit across from each other like strangers. Now it’s takeout on the couch, her feet in my lap, me stealing bites from her plate when she’s not looking.
She finally abandons her grading and joins me, tucking her legs under her as she reaches for her plate of pasta. “How was the meeting?”
“It was long and pointless, truly,” I say, twirling my fork in the carbonara.
She hums, taking a sip of her wine.
I watch her over my glass, the way the light catches on her face. She’s different now—still my Little Sinner, still that fire behind her eyes, but softer somehow. More settled. “How was your day? Anyone give you shit?”
