For a moment, Lucian simply stared at the young woman seated not far yet not close, his thoughts in disarray. The steady rise and fall of Cynthia's breathing seemed to mock the storm of emotions swirling within him; she was clueless and he knew his feelings didn't matter to her.
And yet, for a brief moment, her unexpected present felt comforting. And that realization only fueled his frustration.
What game is she playing?
His fists clenched at his sides, the familiar wave of anger rising in his chest. But before he could react, his eyes softened, trailing over her face.
Her silver hair fell loosely around her, framing her peaceful expression. She didn't appear amused, or triumphant. Just… tired.
Lucian's heart gave an uncomfortable thud. A feeling he couldn't name washed over him. It gnawed at his pride, yet there was something disarming about her unguarded state, as if she had let down a barrier between them for the first time.
