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THIRTY SEVEN: MORNING AFTER

Auteur: HO PE
last update Date de publication: 2026-11-07 20:26:43

CEAL

His lips were warm and tasted like gin, and for a moment—just a moment—I didn't move. I didn't pull away. I didn't shove him off. I just sat there, frozen, feeling the press of his mouth against mine, feeling the weight of fifteen years of hatred and hunger and something I didn't want to name.

My hand found his chest, fingers spreading over the fabric of his shirt. I could feel his heartbeat beneath my palm, fast and unsteady, matching my own.

I should stop this. I knew I should stop this.
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  • LOVE AND DEATH    THIRTY SEVEN: MORNING AFTER

    CEALHis lips were warm and tasted like gin, and for a moment—just a moment—I didn't move. I didn't pull away. I didn't shove him off. I just sat there, frozen, feeling the press of his mouth against mine, feeling the weight of fifteen years of hatred and hunger and something I didn't want to name.My hand found his chest, fingers spreading over the fabric of his shirt. I could feel his heartbeat beneath my palm, fast and unsteady, matching my own.I should stop this. I knew I should stop this. He was drunk. Vulnerable. This was exactly the kind of leverage I could use, but it was also the kind of line you didn't cross without consequences.But his lips were soft, and his hand was warm against my neck, and when he made a small sound against my mouth, something in my chest cracked open.I kissed him back.My fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, and the world narrowed to the heat of his body and the taste of his breath and the way he sighed when I deepened the kiss. His ot

  • LOVE AND DEATH    CHAPTER THIRTY SIX: DRUNK CONFESSION

    CEALSometimes the things we chase most desperately are the ones we haven't learned to see clearly.I'd spent months searching for a way to get Lucian under my control. Every angle I calculated, every move I planned, every contingency I mapped—none of them worked. He slipped through my fingers, always finding new ways to resist.Until I finally understood something I should have recognized years ago.Why did Adrian trust me? Why did he hand me the keys to his empire, share his secrets, let me stand at his right hand? Because I played the role he needed. The perfect slave. The loyal servant who never questioned, never pushed back, never showed ambition beyond what he allowed. I became what he wanted to see, and in doing so, I made myself invisible.Why couldn't I do the same with Lucian?The thought had surfaced in the quiet hours before dawn, sharp and obvious. Lucian was desperate for control. He wanted to be the one in charge, the one giving orders, the one everyone answered to. Bu

  • LOVE AND DEATH    CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE: THE DRUNKEN ACCORD

    LUCIAN "I want us to work together." I tilted my head, letting the words settle. The candlelight flickered between us, casting shadows across his face that made him look older, more tired. "Work together? How?" I asked, needing to hear the shape of it before I committed to anything. He set down his fork, the metal clicking against the plate. "I know you might not like the idea, but I really have to force you to do it." A pause, his jaw working like he was chewing on the next words before spitting them out. "Adrian is planning an innovation. He's trying to expand the organization abroad, and I will be the main view while you show outside as the fore owner. So to achieve this, we have to work together." I turned it over in my mind, examining it from every angle. The proposal itself was interesting—a chance to step into the spotlight while he handled the grime behind the curtain. But there were gaps. Holes he wasn't filling. "We're already international," I said, keeping my voice fla

  • LOVE AND DEATH    CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: AN APOLOGY IN CANDLELIGHT

    LUCIANThe drive back home was one of the most infuriating silences I'd ever endured, and I hated every second of it. Not that I had anything against silence, but this time, trapped in a car with Ceal behind the wheel, it felt suffocating.He had texted me to come outside, nothing more than a curt instruction that left no room for argument. By the time I made it down, the building had mostly emptied, the last stragglers filtering out through the lobby doors. And there he was, already in the driver's seat, engine running, his profile illuminated by the dashboard lights. He'd dismissed the driver with a wave of his hand, told him to find his own way home, and then turned those cold eyes on me through the rearview mirror.Of course I obeyed. What choice did I have?"What is all of this supposed to mean?" I finally voiced, after fighting the question down for ten minutes too long.He glanced at me through the rear mirror, his expression hard at the edges. "What's that?""Why are you drivi

  • LOVE AND DEATH    CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: THREE WEEKS OF SUBMISSION .

    LUCIAN “When do I start?” The words scraped out of my throat like gravel. Ceal chuckled, leaning back in the chair until the wood creaked under his weight. His arms crossed over his chest, and I caught the slight wince as the movement pulled at something. Good. At least I wasn’t the only one in pain. “You’ll sign first,” he said, his voice carrying that calm, measured tone that made me want to break something. “You don’t think I’m letting you off just like that, do you?”Smart, too smart. He knew exactly what kind of man he was dealing with—knew I’d start looking for cracks the second he turned his back, looking for any way to slip out of whatever leash he thought he’d hooked into me.This guy. He was unpredictable in a way that made my skin prickle. One minute he’s cold as stone, the next he’s screaming in my face with his fists clenched. I couldn’t read him, couldn’t map the edges of him, and that scared me more than the threats.“Fine.” I bit the word off, letting the anger bleed

  • LOVE AND DEATH    CHAPTER THIRTY TWO: STALLING

    LUCIANCold concrete pressed against my cheek, biting through my skin, pulling me back to consciousness one slow inch at a time. My eyelids were heavy, weighted down like someone had stitched them shut, and when I finally forced them open, the light stabbed straight through my skull. The first thing I saw was Ceal. He was seated on a chair a few feet away, his figure looming over my crumpled body, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like he was praying. Or waiting. Probably waiting.I rolled onto my side, the movement sending a fresh wave of pain through my ribs, up my spine, into my teeth. The floor was hard beneath me, and I couldn't remember exactly how I'd gotten down here. But I have fragments. His fist in my stomach. The taste of copper flooding my mouth. His face twisted with a rage I'd never seen before.He was saying some shit I don't understand. My head throbbed with so many different pains I couldn't tell where one ended and another began. We

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