The rainfall in Eldhollow had deepened over the last few days. It was no longer a light patter but a persistent downpour. Thunder rolled softly in the distance like a warning whispered from the clouds.
Elowen had rested well after her off day, but her mind had not.
The memory of Julian's fingers brushing her skin… the way he had looked at her…
She couldn't escape it.
This morning, she dressed simply—modest yet… distracting. The gown Maeryn had gifted her hugged her in the right places, its soft forest green fabric split modestly at the thigh. Nothing outrageous. But on her figure, it spoke louder than it should have.
She didn't notice.
Maeryn, however, had grinned far too knowingly as she tightened the last pin in Elowen's hair.
The ride to Ravenshade Manor was quiet. Rain streaked down the glass panels, blurring the world outside into shades of silver and shadow.
When she stepped inside, Mrs. Jan greeted her at the door.
"Ah, my little dawn petal returns," Jan sang, practically glowing.
"You're in high spirits," Elowen said with a cautious smile.
"Oh, the manor stirs, dearie. Thunder, secrets, and brooding Lords… Everything's alive today."
Elowen chuckled nervously, unsure what that meant.
They climbed the stairs to the East Wing. The hallway smelled faintly of clove and storm-wet stone.
When they reached the door to Julian's chambers, Elowen leaned closer to Jan and whispered, "Is the Lord… okay?"
Before Jan could answer, a deep voice echoed from inside.
"Wildflower and questions."
Jan smiled like a cat who'd seen something amusing. "You may go in."
Elowen pushed the door gently.
And then she saw him.
Julian Ravenshade sat shirtless, leaning slightly in his chair beside the fireplace, the flames casting gold across his skin. His body was lean, sculpted like marble come to life—each line defined, each movement slow and effortless.
But that wasn't what froze her.
It was the wound.
A deep gash curved from his lower ribs to his side, still pink and healing, the skin around it marked by bruised veins and faint spell-burns. A scar in progress, angry and raw.
Her breath caught. She stepped toward him, unthinking, feet moving as if pulled.
He watched her silently, amused.
She looked like she might cry.
What an interesting creature, he mused. Resents me, defies me… yet here she is, heart split in sympathy.
Her fingers lifted toward the wound.
She was inches away from touching it when reality snapped back.
She pulled her hand back instantly, retreating.
"I'm so sorry," she stuttered, flustered. "I didn't mean to—"
He smiled.
A quiet, sincere smile. One that softened the sharpness of his face.
"You can go on, wildflower," he said, gesturing to a table beside her.
A small jar of balm sat there—dark green, thick, and pulsing with a faint magical aura.
"It's healing balm. The sting's gone," he said lazily, still unmoving. "But you could do the honors."
She hesitated.
But her hands were already reaching for the balm.
He leaned back slightly, letting her settle before him.
She applied the balm slowly, her fingers running gently across the scar. His skin was cool beneath her touch, and the closer she got, the warmer she felt. The scent of the balm was forest-like, laced with old magic.
He didn't flinch.
"Does it hurt?" she asked softly, unable to meet his eyes.
"No," he replied. "It doesn't, wildflower."
She frowned. "It's broad. What happened?"
"I chased a mouse," he answered smoothly. "Caught it… but got injured."
Her brows furrowed. "How could you be so careless?"
"If I knew you'd care this much, I'd have gotten injured more often."
She glared at him, flustered again. "That's not what I meant."
She sat upright, annoyed and worried at once. "You need to be more careful when dealing with your… mice," she added, a subtle sarcasm lining the word.
Julian tilted his head, eyes gleaming.
"Teaching me how to do my job now, hmmm?"
"That's not what I meant, my Lord—"
Too late.
As soon as the title left her lips, he moved.
Fast as wind.
She gasped as he pulled her gently but swiftly onto his lap, sitting between his legs, her body pressed close, facing him fully. One leg on either side. The heat rose to her throat instantly.
He was shirtless.
Her eyes widened in horror at the closeness.
"Please don't bite me," she whispered.
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound was warm, deep, and genuine. It curled in the air like smoke.
"I won't bite you, wildflower," he said with a teasing smile.
She raised her head just as he brushed a lock of hair from her cheek.
"You didn't study, did you?"
She could barely breathe. "No, my Lord."
He leaned in and, with all the boldness in the world, pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
A peck.
Short. Light. Barely there.
But it felt like the world stilled.
She sat frozen, lips slightly parted, as if expecting more. Wanting more.
"You want to be kissed that badly, wildflower?" he teased, voice low.
She didn't speak.
She only shook her head, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.
He smiled at her reaction, then gently slid her off his lap and back onto the seat across from him.
She scurried to her feet without another word, breathless.
Julian didn't stop her.
He watched her rush from the room, her gown swishing like wind behind her.
---
She opened the door to her quarters, slammed it behind her, and leaned against it, clutching her chest.
Her heart refused to calm.
She turned—
And nearly screamed.
Seraphine sat on the chaise, one leg crossed over the other, reading a book as if nothing had happened.
Seraphine said, without looking up. "Do take a breath, darling."
Elowen's mouth opened and closed like a fish.
"You're red," Seraphine added.
Still not looking up.
"You look kissed."
Elowen said nothing.
Seraphine smiled to herself, then finally turned a page. "He's always been… quite the charmer. Isn't he?"
Elowen's head hit the door softly.
This wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.