All Chapters of His Playmate : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

(Julia’s POV) I woke up to warmth. Soft, steady, deep warmth — not from the blanket, not from the morning sun peeking through the curtains, but from a body pressed so close to mine that I could feel each breath that left his lungs. For a moment, I couldn’t move. My head was against something firm yet strangely comforting, and my heartbeat seemed to echo another’s. Lucian. It hit me so fast my body went rigid. His arm was draped across my waist, heavy and possessive even in sleep. His fingers were tangled in the fabric of my shirt as if even unconscious, he couldn’t let me go. My mind screamed to move, to push him away, but my body... betrayed me. He was still asleep. I could see the faint rise and fall of his chest, the relaxed lines of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble across his skin. His hair was messy — not his usual perfect, slicked look — and his lips were parted slightly. He looked… human. Not the monster who had locked me in rooms or broken me down with his words

Lucian’s POVThe first thing I felt when I woke up was the pounding in my head. A deep, unrelenting throb that reminded me how much I drank last night. My eyelids felt heavy, and the room spun faintly around me. I groaned quietly, pressing my fingers against my temples. I needed a moment to remember where I was.The familiar scent in the air caught me before the memories did. It was soft, faintly floral, and undeniably hers. Julia. I inhaled slowly, that fragrance settling deep inside my lungs. She always carried it with her, even when she tried to hide it. It was the kind of scent that clung to everything it touched. The bedsheets. My shirt. The room.It was strange, because my bed had never smelled like that before. I blinked several times, trying to clear my head, and when I shifted slightly, I noticed a faint trace of warmth beside me. My muscles tensed. The memory hit me all at once.Julia.Her trembling voice. The anger that glimmered behind her eyes. The way I had pulled her cl

Julia’s POV For a moment, my heart stopped. My breath caught halfway in my throat as I stared at her. My mind could not form words. I blinked once, twice, trying to make sense of what my eyes were seeing. My body froze completely, every muscle tightening as if I had just seen something that should not exist in this world. Maria stood right there, smiling softly at me. Her face looked real, not a ghost, not an illusion. Her dark hair fell gently on her shoulders, her eyes bright, calm, filled with something that looked too human to be fake. I felt my mouth go dry. My chest ached from disbelief. I thought she was dead. The last time I saw Maria was the night I tried to escape. The night she risked everything for me. The same night Lucian punished her because of my mistake. I could still hear her screams in my head. I remembered her blood. I remembered how helpless I felt when they dragged her away and I could not do anything. Every night since then, her face haunted me. I cried cou

Lucian’s POV The moment her body softened in my arms inside that bathroom, I knew she was gone into sleep. It happened so suddenly that it caught me off guard. One minute she was crying against me, trembling like a wounded animal that had stopped fighting, and the next her head dropped on my shoulder as if something in her had simply switched off. Her breath warmed my skin in soft, uneven patterns. Her fingers, which had been clutching the fabric near my chest with all the strength she had left, slowly loosened until her hand rested with no resistance. I stared down at her face. Her lashes were still wet from the tears that refused to stop earlier. Her cheeks were flushed from the emotional storm she had gone through. She looked younger like that. Smaller. Much more fragile than she pretended to be when she tried to fight me with words that were meant to break something inside me. And they nearly had. But I could not let myself think about that now. I could not allow myself

Julia’s POV The room felt too quiet after Maria left, too still, like every sound in the mansion was holding its breath. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door she had walked out from only a few minutes ago, trying to convince myself that everything had actually happened. That she had really been here. That I had hugged her and felt her warmth and heard her voice and seen her smile even after everything she suffered because of me. My mind was still replaying the moment she touched my hand to assure me she was real, like she knew I needed proof because I still felt like I was dreaming or hallucinating or seeing a ghost I had long mourned. The guilt stayed in my chest like a heavy stone. It pressed hard, harder than my lungs could handle, and I had to swallow several times just to breathe properly. I hated how easily tears still found me. I hated how my eyes got wet every few minutes as if my body was betraying me, as if crying was the only language it knew. Maria’s word