𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝟏𝟖+

XV

Violet

I quietly step out my door into the stillness of the night. The halls are lit with beautiful chandeliers, casting a soft glow and candles flickering gently along the walls.
I move silently, my long robe trailing behind me as I slip down the stairs. The soft rustle of my silk robe is the only noise that accompanies my descent.

Barefoot, I walk around the long halls that all seemed identical. The air was cool and fresh, I pull my robe tighter around me as I navigate the maze like corridors.

Lucian must be incredibly wealthy to own a three-story building. Yet, this place feels like a labyrinth of solitude. My fingers trail along the cool, polished wood of the banister as I ascend the grand staircase.

I pause at a window, gazing out at the sprawling estate shrouded in twilight. The gardens below, meticulously manicured, seem untouched by human presence. A shiver runs down my spine, not from the chill in the air, but from the overwhelming sense of isolation that permeates this place.

Who all lives in this vast space? I can't help but wonder.
Are there others hidden away in the shadowy corners, just as isolated as I feel now?
Or is Lucian the sole inhabitant of this grand, yet desolate, sanctuary?

Suddenly, I encounter his men. My heart pounds silently as I stop in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat.
But this time, they don't seize me.
Their eyes flicker over me, unreadable, as if they are merely shadows in the night. I blink rapidly, trying to make sense of their passive demeanor. My mind races, questioning their intentions, but I continue past them until I find myself in a room.

I wander around for a moment, my fingers brushing against the delicate lace curtains.
I approach the window, my heart still racing. Slowly, I open it, letting the cool night air brush against my face.
Stepping out onto the wide balcony, I am greeted by the breathtaking scenery of the distant city.
There is life beyond these walls, behind Lucian.

I wonder what he is doing at this moment, whether he is aware of my presence here, whether he is watching.
It's only been a couple of hours since our last encounter, and the memory is still fresh in my mind. My face heats up, and a wave of warmth flushes over me.
The shame I feel is overwhelming; it's bad enough that I'm behaving this way, but with the man who murdered my lover, it's unbearable.

I step back inside, leaving the cool night air behind as I close the balcony door softly.
My fingers linger on the cold glass for a moment, as if seeking solace from the chill. I descend the grand staircase.

Reaching the bottom, I make my way to the kitchen, the place where I had been with Lucian just hours ago. The memory of our encounter lingers in the air, making me groan in annoyance.
I can almost see us there, our bodies close, the warmth of his breath against me.

"Why am I thinking of him?" I mutter to myself.

I open a cabinet, searching for something to distract myself, but my mind keeps drifting back to Lucian.
His touch, his voice, the way he looked at me—it all plays on a loop in my head. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the thoughts. But they cling to me, persistent and unrelenting.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, the scent of the kitchen—a mix of spices and fresh herbs—filling my senses. It should be calming, but instead, it only heightens my awareness of the emptiness around me.

I grab a glass and fill it with water, the cold liquid a welcome relief as it slides down my throat.
Leaning against the counter, the shame, the guilt, and confusion—they all swirl together, leaving me feeling unmoored.

I can't understand why I feel this way, why the man who should be my enemy now occupies my thoughts so completely. I take another sip of water, trying to steady myself.