Tainted Desire

𝓟𝓾𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻

Lucian had watched her long before she ever laid eyes on him.

From the moment he first saw Evangeline, something inside him had shifted. He hadn't wanted to admit it at first—had tried to ignore the pull she had on him—but it was futile. She was unlike anyone else, and every time he saw her, that pull grew stronger, more insistent.

It started innocently enough. A chance encounter at a café where she'd been sitting by the window, a book in her lap, her soft curls falling over her shoulder as she absentmindedly twisted a strand of hair around her finger. He'd been drawn to her in an inexplicable way, captivated by the ease with which she moved, the quiet grace she seemed unaware she possessed.

He'd sat across the street, hidden in the shadows of a shop's awning, watching her for hours. At first, he told himself it was curiosity. But deep down, even then, he knew it was something more.

Something darker.

From that day on, she had become a part of his world, though she never knew it. Lucian had kept his distance, content, at first, to simply observe her. He followed her home, memorizing her routines, learning the small details of her life. He knew which days she worked late, which shops she frequented, and how she always stopped at that little corner bookstore on her way home.

He told himself he wasn't hurting anyone. He wasn't crossing any lines. But as the days turned into weeks, his obsession grew. He found himself thinking about her constantly, his mind filled with images of her—smiling, laughing, lost in thought. He watched her from afar, but it wasn't enough anymore.

Lucian needed to be closer.

He started visiting the places she went, positioning himself just on the edge of her awareness. Never too close, but close enough to catch glimpses of her, to hear the sound of her voice when she spoke to the barista, or the soft laugh she shared with a friend. It was torture, this self-imposed distance, but he couldn't risk her knowing.

Not yet.

At night, he would lie in bed, replaying the moments he'd stolen—watching her through her apartment window as she cooked dinner, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the kitchen light. He'd watch her as she curled up on her couch with a glass of wine, reading late into the night. He knew the way she smiled when she got lost in a good story, the way her brow furrowed in concentration when something troubled her.

And he knew the way she moved through her apartment as if she were completely alone in the world. She had no idea he was there, no idea how close he was, how often he stood outside her building, watching, waiting.

Lucian's obsession with Evangeline had become a hunger—an insatiable need he couldn't control. He told himself that as long as he kept his distance, as long as she never knew, it was harmless. But he was lying to himself. He had crossed the line long ago.

And now, standing on the terrace after that kiss, Lucian knew there was no turning back.

He hadn't planned for it to happen tonight. He hadn't planned on approaching her at all. But when he'd seen her in the ballroom, dressed in that soft pink gown that hugged her curves perfectly, her hair falling in soft waves down her back, something inside him had snapped. He couldn't stand being an observer any longer. He had to touch her, to feel her warmth, to know what it was like to have her in his arms.

But now that it had happened—now that he had tasted her—Lucian was terrified.

Because he knew what came next. He could feel the darkness stirring inside him, the possessive need that had been growing stronger with each passing day. And he knew that if he allowed himself to give in to it, there would be no stopping what came next.

He had crossed the line, and now he was standing at the edge of something far more dangerous.

As he watched her standing in front of him, defiant and beautiful in the moonlight, Lucian felt the war raging inside him. He wanted her more than anything he had ever wanted in his life. But he also knew he was dangerous, that his obsession had long since spiraled into something dark, something that would consume her if she let him in.

"You don't know how long I've been watching you," he said, his voice low, gravelly. He hadn't meant to say it, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.

Evangeline frowned, confusion flickering across her face. "What are you talking about?"

Lucian took a step closer, the shadows clinging to him like a second skin. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her breath hitched ever so slightly. "I've been watching you for months, Evangeline. Long before tonight. Before you even knew my name."

Her eyes widened, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out. She didn't move, didn't even flinch, though he could see the shock in her expression.

"I know how you like your coffee," Lucian continued, his voice barely above a whisper now, his gaze never leaving hers. "I know which books you buy. I know how you sit in the park on Sundays, lost in thought, staring at the lake as if you're waiting for something."

Evangeline swallowed hard, her pulse visibly quickening at the base of her throat. "Lucian..."

"I've been following you," he said bluntly, cutting her off, "everywhere you go. Watching you. Learning everything I can about you." He took another step, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "You have no idea how much I want you."

Her breath caught, and for a moment, he saw the fear flicker across her face. But there was something else too—something she was trying to hide. She wasn't running, wasn't backing away. Despite his confession, she was still standing there, staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Lucian's chest tightened, his heart pounding violently in his ribs. "Because I can't stop anymore," he admitted. "I thought I could stay away, just watch from a distance. But it's not enough." His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I need you, Evangeline."

She stared at him, her expression a mix of shock and something he couldn't quite read. For a long moment, neither of them moved. The tension between them was thick, suffocating.

Then, finally, Evangeline spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "What happens now?"

Lucian's gaze darkened, his heart pounding in his chest. He took one last step, closing the distance between them until they were inches apart. His hand reached out, gently brushing a stray curl from her face, his touch lingering against her skin.

"What happens now," he murmured, his voice almost a plea, "is up to you."