A heart of the vampire

Chapter 30

Serena opened the window, allowing the cool night air to seep into the room. The gentle whisper of the wind wrapped around her, carrying the scents of damp earth and fresh air that evoked memories from her childhood—times when the night sky seemed full of promises, and danger felt nonexistent. Now she knew that every fairy tale, every legend, contained a grain of truth.

She sat on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath. Her gaze was directed toward the darkness, and her thoughts wandered to the recent events that had forever etched themselves in her memory. The relief of defeating Vlad was heavily overshadowed by the shadow of trauma that still lurked in her heart.

The cool air was calming and soothing. She gently traced her fingers along Lucian's skin, who was resting beside her, his body relaxed and his breathing steady. Her touch was light, distracted yet tender. She wanted to feel his presence, to know that he was there, that there was no longer any threat.

In this moment of quiet intimacy, the horrors they had faced seemed to recede, pushed back by the gentle press of her skin against his.

"What are you doing, Serena?" he asked, his voice a low rumble in the stillness.

She hesitated, her fingers stilling on his chest. "I just wonder..." she whispered, her eyes downcast. The words hung in the air between them, fragile as spun glass. "Aren't you mad at me that I lost Amara's soul?"

Lucian's hand moved of its own accord, gently tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. In the faint moonlight filtering through the gossamer curtains, he could see the uncertainty swimming in her eyes, the vulnerability etched into every line of her face.

The moment hung between them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Serena's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she processed Lucian's words.

"The moment you woke me from my eternal sleep, she was already a thing of the past," he said after a moment of thought. "I just realized it too late."

She sighed in surprise, her fingers tracing abstract patterns on his skin as she absorbed the weight of his confession. The room seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, the air thick with the remnants of ancient magic and newfound truths.

"I still see the threads of fate," she sighed in resignation, her voice barely above a whisper. The silvery strands of destiny shimmered at the edges of her vision, an ever-present reminder of the power that coursed through her veins. "I have no idea how to control it. I see it, but I don't understand. How did she do it?"

Lucian's hand moved to cup her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine and igniting a warmth in her heart. The air around them seemed to crackle with unseen energy, the very fabric of reality bending to their will.

"She didn't." He replied. "She believed that everyone had the right to decide their own fate, so she refused to use her gift."

Lying next to her, he didn't take his eyes off her, as if he wanted to read all her thoughts from the lines of her face. If only he could, he would erase all her fears. "I guess that's the best decision," she finally sighed. "I'll try to ignore them; maybe then the power-hungry beings will forget that the threads of fate exist. I don't want them. And I don't want wars."

His gaze softened, a mix of admiration and concern flickering in his eyes. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curves of her hips. The moonlight cast a silvery glow on her skin, making her appear almost ethereal, a being caught between two worlds.

Lucian slowly exhaled, a sense of relief washing over him. He feared the moment when he might feel the need to embrace the power she possessed, worrying that the threads of fate would pull her away from him. He hoped for such an answer, but he was also afraid to ask. He wanted nothing more than her presence near him.