DANGEROUS PULL

(Evelyn’s POV)

The storm outside hadn’t stopped.

Rain lashed against the tall windows, running in frantic streams that caught and distorted the flickering lamplight. The world beyond had blurred into moving shapes and shadows, as though the night itself were pressing close to the glass.

The fire in the hearth crackled softly, spitting now and then as the logs shifted. Its warmth reached my skin, but it couldn’t touch the cold twisting inside me—a cold that had been growing ever since I stepped foot on this estate.

Lucien’s jacket still hung loosely around my shoulders. The fabric was heavier than it looked, lined with a softness that carried the faintest scent of cedarwood… and something else. Something darker, richer, like smoke after a fire, like rain on stone. It was unfamiliar and yet so easy to get lost in that I found myself holding it tighter, almost without realizing.

I told myself I’d give it back. Any moment now. Toss it toward him with a quick thanks, put a polite end to whatever strange thread seemed to tie us together. And yet, my fingers stayed curled in the lapels.

I sat at the edge of the long velvet sofa, my knees pressed together, toes curling into the rug. Every sense was painfully aware of him.

He stood across the room, leaning one shoulder against the mantel. One hand rested casually in the pocket of his dark trousers, the other curled loosely around the edge of the stone. His gaze was fixed on the flames, but the set of his jaw and the tilt of his head made it feel like even in his silence, he was aware of everything—me most of all.

“You didn’t have to follow me earlier,” I said finally, my voice cutting through the low rumble of rain.

Slowly, he turned his head toward me. The movement was unhurried, deliberate. When his eyes found mine, they didn’t just look—they held. “You were wandering the estate grounds alone in the rain,” he said, his tone deceptively calm. “Do you think I’d just let you vanish into the woods?”

“I wasn’t going to vanish,” I muttered, though even as I said it, the image of the winding, mist-filled paths rose in my mind. The air out there had been heavy, thick with a stillness that didn’t feel empty. “I needed… space.”

“You needed supervision,” he corrected, and the faintest curve touched his lips. It wasn’t quite a smile.

That single flicker of expression made heat rise to my cheeks. I hated how he could do that—disarm me with so little. It was like he’d studied me, learned exactly which threads to pull, without my ever realizing it.

I tore my gaze away, fixing it on the fire. “You’re not my keeper.”

“No,” he said after a pause. His voice had dropped lower, the kind of low that seemed to hum in the air between us. “But I’m responsible for what happens to you while you’re here.”

Something in the way he said it made me glance back. His eyes—steel grey, but catching glints of the firelight—held something unspoken. Concern, maybe. Or possession. I didn’t know which unsettled me more.

“I’m not your responsibility, Lucien,” I said softly, almost hoping he’d agree.

“Maybe not.” He pushed away from the mantel with an easy, controlled grace, his footsteps almost soundless on the rug. Every step made my pulse thud harder. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t seem to stop looking for you… even when I shouldn’t.”

The air seemed to pull tighter between us. My breath shortened without my permission.

He stopped in front of me—not close enough to touch, but close enough that the firelight carved sharp lines into his features.

“Why?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth, then lifted again, and there was something in his expression that made the rest of the room fade. “You really want me to answer that?”

I swallowed hard. “Maybe.”

The clock in the corner ticked steadily, each second stretching, heavy and deliberate. He didn’t move. Neither did I.

I became painfully aware of small details—the way his hair curled slightly where it touched his collar, the faint shadow along his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest. My own breathing felt too loud.

Lucien reached up, slowly, giving me every chance to pull away. His fingers brushed against my cheek, tucking a damp strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shiver racing down my spine.

“You should go upstairs, Evelyn,” he said finally, his voice low, careful. “Before I forget that I’m supposed to keep my distance.”

The words should have grounded me, but instead they twisted something deep inside. I should have stood immediately. I should have gone without looking back.

But for a moment, I stayed there, caught in his shadow, letting the seconds stretch too long.

Finally, I stood, pulling his jacket tighter around me. My fingers brushed against the inside seam, where the fabric was warmer—like it had held the shape of him. I didn’t give it back.

As I stepped past him toward the staircase, I felt his gaze follow me—steady, unyielding—until I reached the landing and disappeared from sight.

And maybe… just maybe… I wished he hadn’t let me go so easily.