Chapter Four: Morning

Morning crept in through the heavy curtains, pale light slanting across the hotel room floor like a lazy afterthought. Selene’s amber eyes blinked open, sharp against the softness of the room. Her senses reached before her body did — the steady thump of a heartbeat that wasn’t hers.

Lucas was still here.

Still alive and asleep.

Still hers — if only in this penny of stolen time.

She turned her head slowly on the pillow, the sheet cool beneath her cheek. He was curled on his side, back to her now, the sheet low on his hips, the bandage on his temple still intact.

Selene sat up quietly, careful not to wake him. Her shirt clung open at the chest, buttons carelessly half-done from the night before. The cool air licked against her skin, but she barely noticed it. Her focus was already on him.

She leaned in and brushed his hair aside again to check the bandage. No bleeding, skin still pale, but clean. She exhaled a slow breath through her nose.

He looked human like this.

Soft and breakable.

Something in her chest pulled tight.

Selene slid off the bed silently, letting the sheet fall behind her. Her long black hair spilled across her back. Her legs moved with a predator’s grace — light, smooth, lethal even now — as she padded barefoot toward the window. The city lay muted beyond the glass, distant and dumb.

Chicago. It was supposed to be temporary.

Then she'd seen him. And now he was in her bed, in her space, in her goddamn bloodstream like venom.

Behind her, Lucas stirred.

Selene turned.

He blinked blearily into the morning light, brow furrowed, hair a tangled mess against the pillow. He looked at her — then past her — then down at the sheets, reality dawning across his face in slow, visible waves.

Lucas exhaled loudly, and then winced. “Head’s killing me.”

Selene crossed back to the bed in three fluid steps, crouching to hand him the glass of water she’d poured earlier. “Drink. You’ll live.”

He took it, their fingers brushing for the briefest second. Her hand was still warm from sleep. His was not.

“Thanks,” he said, glancing up. His eyes flicked—just for a moment—down her open shirt. The breath caught in his throat before he quickly looked away.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

Selene raised a brow. “Didn’t say you couldn’t.”

That flustered him more than she expected. He swung his legs off the bed and stood, clearly trying to recover some dignity, and gestured toward the bathroom.

“Mind if I…?”

Selene stepped aside, nodding once. “Go.”

He moved quickly, a little too fast for someone just waking up, but pride would do that. She watched him go, her arms crossing over her stomach as she listened to the click of the door behind him.

Inside, the water started to run.

She could still feel the heat of his body in her sheets. The weight of him when she’d lifted him off blood-slicked pavement. The small sound he made when she touched his bruised jaw in the dark.

A sound like trust.

It was dangerous. It was foolish but it was already too late.

The bathroom door creaked open ten minutes later. Steam billowed out, and Lucas followed — hair damp, shirtless, towel tied by his waist.

Selene didn’t turn at first. Just watched the city stretching like a corpse outside the window.

Lucas hovered by the door, scanning her for few minutes. “Uh… do you have a shirt I can borrow? Mine’s…” He trailed off, remembering the blood on it. “Pretty much useless now.”

Selene didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, without looking, she walked to her suitcase, crouched, and pulled something out.

She tossed it at him without ceremony. A black button-up — soft and long-sleeved.

He caught it mid-air. “…Is this yours?”

Selene turned just enough to meet his eyes. “It’s clean. It’ll fit. Don’t complain.”

Lucas stared at the fabric in his hands for a second longer than he should’ve. The scent clung to it — her scent — warm, wild, unfamiliar. It made something under his ribs twitch.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, slipping it on. The fabric was soft against his skin, sleeves a little long, but he didn’t care.

“You cleaned up well,” she said finally looking at him, voice neutral.

“Still feel like I got hit by a truck,” he muttered, rubbing his head. “But better.”

He hovered awkwardly by the bed, unsure if he should sit. Unsure if he should speak. His eyes darted to her — to the sharp line of her back, the way her shirt slipped too low, exposing one smooth shoulder and the sharp line of her spine.

He cleared his throat.

“So… who were those guys?”

“Not anyone you’ll see again.”

“That’s not exactly comforting.”

“It’s the best you’ll get.”

Lucas paused and stepped toward her slowly. “You saved me.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

Selene didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned fully to face him, letting him see her — the unguarded and obsessive hunger. The hunger that sat coiled behind her bones, silent for now.

“You’ve been in my head since the moment I saw you,” she said simply.

Lucas blinked. Once. Twice.

“That’s…”

Selene tilted her head.

“Too much?”

He swallowed. “No. Just… honest.”

She stepped toward him, every inch a slow warning. “You still don’t know what I am.”

He didn’t back away.

“No,” he said, voice low. “But I think you’re the reason I’m still breathing.”

Selene stopped inches from him. Her hand hovered near his chest — not touching, not quite. Her fingers curled back.

“This isn’t over, Lucas.”

He looked into her eyes and saw the wild thing waiting behind them.

“I know.”