Lucian lay still beside Seraphine, his intense gaze locked on her peaceful face as she slept. Her breaths were soft and steady, her chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm, completely oblivious to the turmoil that raged within him.
He had been awoken once again by the same recurring dream, a dream so vivid yet frustratingly confusing. This time, as he blinked into the dim light that seeped through the windows, the lingering image of the dream clung stubbornly to his mind.
In his dream, there was always a woman standing at the edge of a cliff, her crimson gown billowing in the wind. She called out a name with such heart wrenching pain laced in her voice, that it made Lucian's chest tighten, but he could never hear the name clearly, nor could he see her face. Each time, just before he could make sense of it, she would fall into the abyss below the cliff leaving him with an overwhelming sense of loss. It was the same dream every night since the moment he had marked Seraphine, and each time it grew more vivid, more haunting.
Lucian's mind raced as he tried to piece together the fragments of his dream and what it meant.
"What could it mean? Why now?" he thought, worry written all over his face.
The moment he had pressed his mark onto Seraphine's skin, something had shifted between them. The bond that tied them together only seemed to have intensified, and every emotion between them had grown sharper, more pronounced. His longing for her, his protectiveness, even his desire all had deepened into something undeniable. But with that bond came the dreams, as though marking Seraphine had triggered something hidden deep within him, some ancient memory or curse he had yet to understand.
He had spent the last few nights secluded in the Grand Lord's manor, searching every vampire text he could find, desperate to uncover any clue that might explain the strange connection between the dreams and Seraphine. But no matter how deep he dug into the old histories, the myths, and the prophecies, there was nothing nothing that could explain the woman in the dream or the grief that echoed in her cry.
As much as he had tried to focus on finding answers, he couldn't deny that being away from Seraphine had only worsened his unrest. The cold corridors of the Grand Lord's manor had felt even more isolating without her by his side. And so, he had returned to her, to the warmth of her presence, to the strange solace she gave him without even trying.
Now, as he lay next to her, he couldn't help but reach out. His cold fingers brushed against her cheek, gently caressing her soft skin. She stirred slightly but didn't wake, her body relaxing deeper into sleep at his touch.
Lucian let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His eyes traced the delicate lines of her face, the subtle curve of her lips, and the faint shadows beneath her closed lids. She looked so peaceful.
His thumb gently grazed her lower lip, and his chest tightened with an emotion that was almost painful in its intensity. There was no denying it anymore he was bound to her in ways that went far beyond the mark. Seraphine had become a part of him, her very presence grounding him in a way he hadn't felt in centuries.
But it was that very connection that troubled him. The dream had only started after he had marked her, as if their bond had awakened something long dormant within him. And as much as he yearned to protect her, to shield her from the shadows of his past, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were both being pulled into something far more dangerous.
Lucian shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow as he watched Seraphine sleep. The moonlight filtering through the window cast a soft glow over her, illuminating the faint mark on her neck where his fangs had claimed her. He gently traced the outline of the mark with his fingers, feeling the connection between them pulse beneath his touch. It was a bond of blood, yes, but it was more than that. It was as though their very souls had intertwined, and with it, a flood of memories, emotions, and...something darker.
The woman in his dream...who was she? Was she real, or merely a figment of his fractured memories? He had lived for so long, experienced so much that the lines between past and present often blurred. But this felt different. This felt real.
His thoughts drifted back to the ancient books he had scoured, searching for answers. Some had mentioned old prophecies, ancient curses that could bind vampires and humans together in ways that defied natural laws. But nothing had seemed to fit his situation. There was no mention of a dream, no mention of a woman on a cliff. And yet, the more he thought about it, the more he couldn't shake the feeling that the dream was trying to tell him something something crucial.
Seraphine stirred again, this time her eyes fluttering open. She blinked up at him, her gaze still heavy with sleep.
"Lucian?" she whispered, her voice soft and filled with warmth.
"I'm here," he replied, his voice low, but sweet.
She gave him a sleepy smile, her hand reaching up to cover his where it rested against her cheek.
"You didn't sleep?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but laced with concern.
Lucian hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to tell her. He didn't want to burden her with his own uncertainties, but at the same time, he couldn't keep hiding this from her.
"Yes," he finally admitted, his fingers still brushing against her skin.
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. "I missed you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.
"I missed you too," she replied, her breath warm against his lips.
For a moment, everything else faded away the dreams, the dangers that lurked in the shadows. All that mattered was Seraphine, her warmth, her presence.
But even as he held her close, the image of the woman in the crimson gown lingered at the edges of his mind, a reminder that their peace was only temporary. Whatever was coming, it was getting closer. And this time, Lucian knew, he wouldn't be able to face it alone.