The Blackwell estate was bigger than I had imagined—and colder than I had feared.
Glass and steel gleamed beneath the city lights, but nothing about the place felt welcoming. Every corridor, every shadow, seemed aware of me. Watching.
Lucien led the way in silence. I followed, hands folded neatly in front of me, my heartbeat loud in my ears.
He stopped inside a large room on the ground floor. Dark wood shelves lined the walls, filled with books and unfamiliar artifacts. A low fire burned in the hearth, offering warmth that never quite reached me.
"You'll stay here," he said at last, his voice calm and deliberate. "Until you understand the rules."
I blinked. "Rules?"
He stepped closer. Too close. The faint scent of him—cold, metallic, commanding—brushed against me.
"There are very few," he said. "The first is the most important. Never lie to me. Never pretend with me. Ever."
I nodded, unsure my legs would hold me if I tried to move.
"The second rule," he continued, eyes dark and assessing, "is that you exist under my roof. My word is law."
A pause.
"I will not hurt you… unless you betray me."
Something in his tone made my breath catch.
"The third," he said softly, "is that you share your world with me. Fear. Anger. Curiosity. Everything. You tell me."
Truth, with Lucien Blackwell, felt sharper than a blade.
"You're different," he said after a moment. "Most would tremble. Most would hide." His gaze lingered. "You watch. You don't flinch."
"I'm not afraid," I said quietly.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.
"Good. Fear won't save you here. Not from me. Not from this house. And not from yourself."
The silence stretched between us, heavy and charged.
Then he moved—slowly, deliberately—circling me like a predator studying its prey. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was brief, controlled, but it sent a shiver down my spine.
"I don't touch without purpose," he murmured. "If I do, it's because I want to see who you are… and whether you will stand."
"I will," I whispered.
The shadows along the walls flickered with the firelight. For a moment, I thought I saw them shift—shapes moving just beyond my vision.
Lucien's lips curved slightly.
"You see them too," he said, almost to himself. "Most don't."
I didn't ask what he meant.
Somehow, I already knew this house, this man, this life would not answer questions.
Only test endurance.
And as I stood there—terrified, drawn, and aching with something I didn't yet understand—I realized the truth.
I hadn't just entered a house.
I had entered his world.
And Lucien Blackwell was already watching me…
seeing things in me I had never dared to see myself.
Snapping out of my thoughts, he drifted back and left his grip
The fire had dimmed to glowing embers, and the house felt quieter now, though the shadows still seemed to shift along the walls.
I finally made my way to the bedroom Lucien had prepared for me, the silk sheets cool beneath my fingers. The day, the tension, the weight of the house—it all pressed down on me, making my limbs heavy.
He followed silently, standing just inside the door, watching me settle onto the bed. I didn't look at him. I didn't need to. His presence filled the room.
"Sleep," he said quietly, almost a command, almost a gift.
I nodded, exhausted beyond words. He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, and without another sound, draped his arm across the edge of the bed, just above my shoulder.
Warmth pressed against me, firm and protective. I froze for a heartbeat… and then the tension in my body melted.
For the first time since I had entered the Blackwell estate, I let myself relax.
I drifted into sleep, the faint heat of his arm around me a dangerous comfort I didn't dare name.
Outside, the shadows of the house whispered. Inside, I slept.