Lucius smiled faintly, the kind of smile that spoke of secrets he wasn't ready to share. "You may not need me," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "But I need you, Pumpkin."
Jean stared at him, torn between the urge to scream at him and the unsettling warmth his words sparked within her.
The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the sound of her rapid breathing and the quiet creak of Lucius's chair as he leaned back, his presence as infuriatingly commanding as ever.
Lucius Drake sat beside Jean with a presence that was both unsettling and magnetic. His pale, angular face was a portrait of lethal beauty—sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, and lips that carried an almost mocking smirk.
His eyes, the color of deep crimson, glowed faintly under the dim light, holding a dangerous allure that made her pulse quicken despite her best efforts.
Jean hated herself for the way her eyes lingered on him. His dark hair was swept back in effortless disarray, and his tall frame seemed too broad for the chair he sat in, as if his very existence defied confinement.
He wore a black shirt, unbuttoned at the top, revealing just enough of his collarbone to be maddeningly distracting.
His long, elegant fingers rested on the armrest, twitching slightly, as though he was restraining himself from reaching for her.
He was painfully handsome, the kind of man who could ruin lives with a single look. And yet, Jean's instinct told her to run, even as her body betrayed her, staying frozen in place.
He seemed out of reach, like a dream she could never touch, yet so close that she couldn't trust herself not to fall into him.
After a moment of tense silence, their eyes locked again. She didn't know how long they sat there, gazing at each other, but it felt like an eternity.
"You have beautiful eyes," Lucius said softly, his voice low and velvety, as though it were wrapping itself around her. "You don't know how much I've craved for your eyes to hold mine like this."
"With a glare in them?" Jean shot back, her brows furrowing in defiance even as her pulse betrayed her, racing faster than she would have liked.
"Whatever you give me, Jean Goliath," Lucius replied smoothly, his smirk deepening.
Jean nodded sharply, cutting off the tension that was building between them. "I want the princess. Where is Salviana?"
Lucius leaned back, his expression turning amused. "Ugh, that's a little complicated. She has a husband. And a chamber to live in."
Jean's frown deepened, and she opened her mouth to argue, but Lucius cut her off with a knowing smirk. "You're stuck with me."
"No, I'm not." Jean pointed briskly at the door. "Leave."
Lucius tilted his head, his crimson eyes glittering with mischief. "Where do you want me to go? Back to the ruins you pulled me from?"
"Yes," she snapped, wrapping her arms around herself, unintentionally dislodging the blanket and drawing attention to her figure.
The movement made her chest rise and fall prominently, but she didn't notice.
Lucius, however, did. His gaze flickered briefly before he smiled innocently. "Oh? You said we. Are you proposing we take care of the ruins together?"
Jean's frown faltered as her cheeks flushed. "Lucius," she warned, her voice low and dangerous.
"I can't leave you alone, my dearest Pumpkin," he said, his tone affectionate and maddeningly casual.
"I'm not a girl," Jean said through gritted teeth.
"But you are," Lucius countered with an irritatingly soft tone.
"I am capable of—" Her words were abruptly cut off by a blood-curdling scream as lightning struck so close to her window that the room lit up in a sudden, blinding flash.
Jean recoiled, clutching at the blanket as her body trembled violently. Her breath hitched as she whimpered, her earlier bravado completely gone.
Lucius's playful smirk faded, his expression darkening as he turned his head toward the window.
His jaw tightened, and his crimson eyes narrowed with sharp intensity, as though silently cursing the storm for daring to frighten her. Yet, for all his power, he knew he couldn't command the weather.
The rain hammered against the glass, and each crack of lightning seemed closer than the last.
Jean was trembling now, her fingers clutching the blanket like a lifeline, her wide eyes darting nervously.
"Please," she whispered, her voice fragile, breaking the silence. She didn't even know what she was asking for—safety, comfort, perhaps just for the storm to stop.
Lucius closed his eyes briefly, his expression softening in an unguarded moment of tenderness. Without another word, he shifted on the bed and climbed in beside her.
His movements were deliberate, careful not to startle her further. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into his chest.
Jean froze at the unexpected contact, her body stiff against his. The warmth of his embrace was startling, a stark contrast to the cold dread that had gripped her moments before.
Slowly, her resistance ebbed, and she melted into him, letting him shield her from the storm.
Lucius rested his chin lightly atop her head, his voice low and soothing as he spoke. "You're safe with me, Jean. Always."
Her shivering slowed, though she still flinched whenever the lightning illuminated the room. Each time, his hold on her tightened slightly, anchoring her to the present, to him.
She hesitated, her voice muffled against his chest. "Why… why are you doing this?"
"Because," he murmured, his tone quiet but firm, "I put you in this situation. It's my fault, and I won't leave you to face it alone."
Jean tilted her head slightly to glance up at him, her brown eyes meeting his crimson ones.
There was something in his gaze she couldn't place—guilt, longing, maybe even something deeper.
She quickly looked away, unsure how to process the emotions swirling inside her.
The storm outside raged on, but inside, with his arms around her, Jean felt a small, tentative sense of calm. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the unfamiliar flutter in her chest.
"Lucius," she whispered, her tone softer now.
"Yes, Pumpkin?"