The world seemed to shrink, until all that existed was him. Celeste couldn't move, she couldn't breathe properly. Her mind screamed at her to run, but her body felt carved from stone, every muscle locked in place.
He was nothing like she'd imagined.
The man… if she could call him that, stood tall, his black silk shirt unbuttoned, exposing a sweep of slightly pale hard chest inked with strange markings. The symbols were written in a language she didn't recognize, curling like secrets over his skin. They disappeared beneath the fabric, and her eyes, traitorously, followed the lines until shame burned her cheeks.
His hair was black as spilled ink, falling wild around his face. His eyes shone from the shadows, cold and sharp. They were not the eyes of a madman, they were too clear and aware. But beneath that intelligence, there was something unsteady... a gleam that didn't belong entirely to sanity.
A beast dressed in beauty's form.
His sharp jaw and striking cheekbones stood out, the faint scars on his neck and arms gave him a rough edge. The dim light caught the silver at his temples, three glinting piercings along each ear, and a single one at his brow.
He didn't move and neither did she. He was watching her. Not merely looking — watching, like the way one study the flicker of a candle about to die. His gaze pinned her where she stood, stripping her down to something smaller than flesh.
Then, slowly, his mouth curved.
It wasn't a smile in any human sense of the word. It moved wrong, like the memory of a gesture long forgotten. The expression twisted the sharp features of his face into something unsettling, almost lifeless, as if the act itself belonged to another creature trying to mimic a man.
Color drained from Celeste's face as instinct screamed that there was nothing kind or sane in that smile. It made her uneasy. She didn't know what was worse, the silence, the stare, or that terrible smile.
"You didn't tell me we had a guest."
His voice wasn't loud, but it filled the corridor all the same, the kind of voice that didn't need volume to command attention.
Celeste's breath caught.
He was still watching her, that same unreadable gleam in his eyes, and though the words were meant for someone else, his gaze never once wavered from hers.
"I'd have entertained her properly..." His head tilted slightly, that faint glint from the piercings catching the light. "...had I known she was in my humble home."
There was nothing humble in the way he said it. Each word hung in the air, making the space between them feel smaller.
Then, he began to move.
One step. Then another.
The faint whisper of his bare feet against the marble sounded louder than it should have. His smile remained, that same wrong, unsettling curve. Celeste's heart hammered so violently she thought he might hear it. Her body screamed to retreat, but her legs refused. Behind her, the servants shifted, feet rustling but too afraid to flee.
He paid them no mind.
His eyes were fixed solely on her.
Mrs. Clarke stepped forward carefully, like someone approaching the edge of a cliff. "Master Aiden," she called, "Please, we'll handle this. You don't need to trouble yourself."
He didn't answer, or glance at her. The faintest tilt of his head was the only sign he'd heard her at all, though his eyes never left Celeste's face.
Mrs. Clarke's hand flicked subtly behind her back, a silent order for the other servants to move.
But none of them did.
No one dared to step between him and the girl.
Mid-stride, Aiden stopped.
It was so sudden. One second he was moving and the next, it was as if some invisible force had seized him in place.
His smile vanished.
Every trace of that eerie curve bled from his face until it was utterly still. His jaw clenched and his eyes suddenly shut tight, lashes trembling against his skin like he was fighting something inside him. A faint sound escaped him, half a breath, half a growl, which was gone as soon as it came.
No one moved.
The servants stood frozen, their fear evident. Mrs. Clarke's lips parted, but no sound came out. Her hand trembled as she stood there, hoping not to be noticed.
Celeste swallowed hard. She didn't know what she was witnessing, but every instinct she had screamed that it wasn't safe anymore. Her fingers twitched.
Maybe this was her chance.
Maybe whatever had seized him would hold long enough for her to run.
She took one careful step backwards, but the instant her foot shifted, his eyes snapped open.
They weren't the same.
Gone was the cold, calculating look, what stared back at her was wild and empty. His body went rigid for a second... then he lunged.