Consciousness returned to me in gentle waves, like the tide lapping at shore. I blinked against the golden sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains, my mind still foggy with sleep. Something felt wrong—the mattress beneath me was too plush, the sheets too silky against my skin. I sat up slowly, wincing as my muscles protested the movement. The room spun into focus—a spacious bedroom with minimalist furnishings in cool gray tones, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline.
This wasn't my packed apartment with different furniture and devices everywhere.
I clutched the dove-gray duvet to my chest, heart thudding painfully as fragments of memory crashed through my mind. An alley. Rough hands. Torn fabric. The metallic scent of blood hanging in the air.
And then—Lucian. His face transformed into something inhuman. The sickening sound of flesh tearing beneath his fingers. Golden eyes burning with primal fury.
My breath caught in my throat, coming in short, panicked gasps. My fingers dug into the sheets as the room began to spin.
"If you keep thinking too much, you might give yourself a heart attack, and I won't want that for you. You're still shaken up from last night's events."
The deep, rumbling voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. I whipped my head toward the doorway, where Lucian stood framed in the light. He wore only low-hanging sweatpants, his bare chest sculpted like something from a Renaissance painting. In each hand, he balanced a steaming mug, the rich aroma of fresh coffee wafting toward me.
He moved toward me with the fluid grace of a predator—each step measured, controlled, and somehow elegant despite his imposing size. My heart rate doubled, pounding against my ribcage like it was trying to escape. I couldn't tell if it was fear or something else entirely that made my skin flush hot beneath his gaze.
The mattress dipped as he sat beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. His eyes—no longer that uncanny gold but a warm amber—studied my face with an intensity that made me want to look away.
"I know you like coffee," he said, his voice softer now as he extended one of the mugs toward me. "Drink this. It'll calm you down a bit."
Our fingers brushed as I accepted the mug, and an electric current seemed to spark between us. I clutched the ceramic tightly, grateful for something to focus on besides the man beside me.
"Thanks," I murmured, inhaling the rich scent before taking a tentative sip. The coffee was perfect—dark and strong with just a hint of sweetness. Exactly how I liked it, though I couldn't remember ever telling him that.
"Lucian, you..." I began, but the words tangled in my throat. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. "What I saw last night—" I swallowed hard, staring into the dark depths of my coffee. "It wasn't real, right? I was just hallucinating, wasn't I? I was just—"
"You weren't hallucinating." His tone was sharp, decisive, brooking no argument. The sudden edge in his voice made me flinch, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of my mug.
"Yo-you really killed them?" I stuttered, my voice barely above a whisper. "You... you..."
"Shhh." His finger pressed against my lips, silencing me. The touch was gentle but firm, sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear. This close, I could see flecks of gold dancing in his amber eyes, like sunlight through autumn leaves.
"One question at a time, princess." The endearment rolled off his tongue with surprising ease. "Yes, I killed them. No, I don't feel remorseful, because no one messes with my woman or tries to hurt her and lives to tell the story."
The possessiveness in his voice should have repelled me. Instead, it sent a flood of warmth coursing through my veins.
"Your woman?" I echoed, confusion threading through my words. "What do you—"
He moved closer, his thigh now pressing against mine through the duvet. I should have pulled away. Every instinct honed through years of self-preservation screamed at me to create distance. Yet I remained frozen, drawn to him like a moth to flame.
"You saw me morph, didn't you?" His voice dropped to a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my bones. "You know I'm not human."
It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway, remembering the way his features had shifted, bones realigning beneath his skin, eyes blazing with inhuman light. The memory should have terrified me. Instead, I found myself captivated by the memory of his raw power.
"You're a monster, Lucian," I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them.
He didn't flinch or recoil. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against my cheek.
"I am," he agreed, voice like velvet over gravel. "I'm a werewolf, the king of the wolves, the most dangerous alpha king in the history of all alpha kings."
A small gasp escaped me as his eyes began to glow, the amber darkening to molten gold that seemed to illuminate from within. Any lingering doubt I had about what I'd witnessed the night before vanished in the face of that supernatural glow.
His hand moved to my cheek, fingers surprisingly gentle as they cupped my face. He set his mug on the nightstand with his free hand, then took mine and placed it beside his. The loss of that barrier between us felt significant somehow.
He pulled me closer, one hand at the small of my back. His forehead pressed against mine, our breaths mingling in the space between us. His came slow and steady, while mine grew shallow and erratic. The scent of him—cedar and midnight and something wild—filled my lungs, making my head swim.
"You feel it, don't you, Seraphina?" he murmured, his lips just inches from mine. "The pull toward me. I feel it too." He inhaled deeply, eyes closing for a moment. "Your scent..." He sighed, the sound almost pained. "It's as intoxicating as fuck."
His breath fanned across my lips, warm and sweet with coffee. I closed my eyes, struggling to maintain some semblance of control as my body responded to his proximity in ways I hadn't felt in years—maybe ever. It was as if he had awakened something dormant inside me, some primal need that had been sleeping beneath layers of fear and caution.
I parted my lips to speak, though I had no idea what I intended to say. I never got the chance to find out.
His mouth claimed mine with a hunger that stole my breath. His lips were softer than I'd expected, moving against mine with a gentleness that belied the strength I knew he possessed. I surrendered to the kiss, my eyelids fluttering closed as he explored my mouth with deliberate patience.
His tongue traced the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. I hesitated, hovering on the edge of a precipice I wasn't sure I was ready to leap from. Then his hand moved to my thigh, fingers pressing lightly into the flesh, and I gasped at the jolt of pleasure that shot through me. He took advantage of my parted lips, deepening the kiss as he pulled my lower body flush against his.
The hard ridge of his arousal pressed against me through our clothing, and he rocked his hips in a slow, deliberate motion that sent sparks of heat dancing across my skin. My hands flew to his shoulders, fingers digging into the taut muscle beneath warm skin. I clung to him like an anchor in a storm, the only solid thing in a world suddenly tilted on its axis.
He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down the column of my neck. I felt the gentle scrape of teeth followed by the warm, wet press of his tongue, and a soft moan escaped me before I could suppress it. The sound seemed to ignite something within him; he chuckled, the vibration against my skin sending shivers down my spine.
His mouth moved lower, finding the sensitive hollow of my throat. One hand tangled in my hair, tugging gently to expose more of my neck to his attention. The slight sting of his grip only heightened the pleasure coursing through me, drawing another moan from deep in my chest.
"Lucian," I breathed, hardly recognizing my own voice.
His tongue traced patterns on my skin, each stroke sending fresh waves of desire flooding through me. It felt like being cleansed and defiled all at once—a baptism of sensation washing away years of fear and replacing it with something molten and alive.
I'd always hated men. How could I not, after what they'd done to me? Years of therapy hadn't erased the memories of rough hands and cruel laughter, of pain and humiliation. From girlhood through my teenage years, I'd learned to build walls, to keep men at a distance.
Yet here I was, melting beneath Lucian's touch, craving more with an intensity that frightened me. It was as if he'd ignited a fire deep within me—one that only he could extinguish. I wanted his hands on me, his mouth claiming mine. I wanted to surrender to the hunger in his golden eyes, to offer myself up to be consumed.
But how far could I go before the ghosts of my past dragged me back into darkness?
As if sensing my thoughts, Lucian lowered me gently to the mattress, his body hovering over mine without crushing me with his weight. His eyes locked with mine, searching, asking permission without words. In answer, I let my hands drift across the planes of his chest, trailing fingers over defined muscle and smooth skin.
His eyes darkened at my touch, pupils expanding until only a thin ring of gold remained. He lowered his head, capturing my lips once more as his fingers worked at the buttons of my borrowed shirt. I arched into him, prolonging the contact as his fingers moved with maddening slowness.
Impatience flashed across his features, and with a low growl, he gripped the fabric and tore it open, sending buttons scattering across the bed. He tossed the ruined garment aside, his gaze devouring the newly exposed skin.
"Beautiful," he murmured, lowering his head to trail kisses along my collarbone.
His mouth moved lower, teeth grazing my skin followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue. He sucked hard enough at the junction of my neck and shoulder that I knew he was marking me—claiming me in a way that would be visible to anyone who saw me. The thought should have angered me. Instead, it sent a fresh surge of heat pooling low in my belly.
I lost myself in his touch, the world narrowing to the points of contact between us. For once, my mind was quiet, the haunting memories pushed aside by the overwhelming present. His touch writing new memories on my skin, beautiful and fulfilling in their intensity.
His tongue dipped into my navel, circling the sensitive depression. I gasped, arching off the bed as pleasure sparked along my nerve endings. I felt his smile against my skin as he repeated the motion, drawing a sound from me I'd never made before.
"Ahhhhn, Lucian," I moaned, my voice breathy and unfamiliar to my own ears. I was too far gone to care, too lost in sensation to feel self-conscious.
He moved lower still, his breath hot against my skin as his hands worked at the button of my jeans. My heart raced in anticipation, desire warring with the first whispers of anxiety. His fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of my lower abdomen, and I nearly sobbed with need.
Then it happened.
A flash of memory—cruel eyes, harsh laughter, pain slicing through me like a knife. Not here. Not now.
I pushed against Lucian's shoulders with all my strength, scrambling away from him. He let me go immediately, confusion and concern replacing the desire in his eyes. I didn't wait for him to speak, leaping from the bed and fleeing to the bathroom across the hall. My trembling hands fumbled with the lock, and I collapsed against the door, sliding to the cold tile floor.
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Why? Why couldn't I just have this one thing? Why did my past have to poison even this moment of connection?
I wanted Lucian—wanted him with an intensity that frightened me. The way he'd touched me, looked at me, made me feel desired rather than merely used. There had been reverence in his touch, a worship in his kiss that promised pleasure rather than pain.
A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.
"Seraphina? Are you okay in there?" Lucian's voice was muffled by the door, concern evident in his tone. The doorknob rattled as he tried to open it.
"Yes, Lucian, I'm fine." I drew a shaky breath, trying to steady my voice. "Just... give me five minutes. I'll be out."
I pushed myself up from the floor and moved to the sink, splashing cold water on my flushed face. In the mirror, my reflection stared back at me—wide, haunted eyes, kiss-swollen lips, a darkening mark on my neck where Lucian's mouth had been. I touched the spot, feeling the tender flesh beneath my fingertips.
"I just want to move on," I whispered to my reflection, "but I can't. Especially not after I almost got raped again last night."
But Lucian hadn't forced me. He'd awakened something in me that I'd thought was dead—desire, need, the capacity for pleasure. There was just one barrier I needed to break: I had to stop my past from haunting me.
When I finally emerged from the bathroom, Lucian was waiting outside the door, his expression a mixture of concern and something deeper, more primal. His eyes moved over me, assessing, making sure I was alright.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his palm cradling my cheek with surprising tenderness.
I nodded, forcing my lips into a smile that felt brittle even to me. From the way his eyes narrowed slightly, I knew he saw through it, but he didn't press.
"Thanks for saving me last night, Lucian," I said, meaning it despite everything. "I'm really grateful."
I dressed quickly, borrowing his sweatshirt and sweatpants, both comically large on my frame but soft and warm, carrying his scent wrapped around me like an embrace. I needed space to think, to process everything that had happened. Maybe it was time to return to therapy, to face the demons I'd been running from for so long.
As I entered my apartment, the scene unfolded exactly as I'd anticipated. My sister, Emma, flew across the room and enveloped me in a fierce hug, her slight frame practically vibrating with relief. Over her shoulder, I could see my best friend Jade, her expression a complex mixture of worry and irritation that only someone who truly cared could manage.
"Where have you been, big sis?" Emma's voice was muffled against my shoulder. "I thought something happened. Your phone wasn't going through either."
"Yeah, where were you?" Jade added, arms crossed over her chest. "Do you know how worried we were? If you were working a night shift, you could have told us so we wouldn't have to—"
"I'm sorry," I interrupted, holding Emma tighter as guilt washed over me. "I had to face something serious last night, and I couldn't come home, so I had to sleep out. I'm really sorry."
I pressed a kiss to Emma's forehead before releasing her and moving to hug Jade as well. Her stiff posture melted as she returned the embrace, her silent way of saying all was forgiven.
"Care to share what happened?" Jade asked, pulling back to study my face with the keen eye of someone who knew all my tells.
I shook my head firmly. "No. It's over, and I'd like it to stay that way."
She held my gaze for a moment longer before nodding, accepting my boundary even though I could tell she was burning with curiosity.
"Okay," she said, her tone brightening. Get some rest today, no gaming in the afternoon, we are going out, remember it's Saturday—you know it's family hang-out day." We're going to the mall, Emma added.
I smiled, a genuine one this time, and headed to my room to change. As I pulled Lucian's sweatshirt over my head, his scent enveloped me one last time, and I found myself wondering if I'd ever feel his touch again—if I'd ever be brave enough to let myself.