– Lucien's POV
The moonlight filtered through the tall obsidian windows, silvering the edges of his bedchamber. Lucien sat at the edge of his bed, shirt undone, the mark on his chest throbbing like it had its own pulse. Her mark. No—his. He put it there. To protect her. To keep the Headmistress from sniffing out her rare bloodline. That was all.
So why did he crave her?
Why did the scent of her skin linger in his lungs like incense, suffocating his reason?
He clenched his jaw and dragged a hand down his face, the skin beneath his eyes burned from lack of sleep. His demon had stirred violently since the marking. Whispering thoughts into his ear. Wicked things. Desperate things.
Touch her. Taste her. She is ours now. Ours.
Lucien stood and crossed to the mirror, stared at the dark rings beneath his eyes. "Shut up," he muttered to the thing inside him.
He had known Calister all his life — daughter of Lord Vellius, raised on elegance and fire. Strong. Polished. Political. Everyone said she was the perfect match for him. A pure-blooded union of power.
And yet…
Seraphina, with her hesitant strength and soft fire, untrained, untainted — made him burn in places Calister never reached.
He gripped the edge of the marble sink, veins bulging. This mark had tied them. He didn't expect it to pull this tight.
He had to stay away. If she was going to survive here, she couldn't rely on him.
She had to become strong enough to face the storm on her own.
But even as he turned from the mirror, a whisper curled through his mind again, dark and low.
She's yours. Whether you claim her or not… she already belongs to us.
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