Lucian’s office was all sharp lines and cold order. Tall shelves lined the walls, filled with leather‑bound ledgers and neatly arranged files. A map of Blackmoon territory hung behind the massive dark‑wood desk, tiny flags pinning outposts and borders like trophies. The scent of ink, old paper, and pine smoke curled beneath the heavier, more dangerous scent that belonged only to him. He sat behind the desk, pen poised over a document, as if my appearance were an appointment squeezed into his schedule. Golden eyes lifted, taking me in. For a second, nothing moved—not even the scratch of pen on paper. His gaze swept from my bare legs up the line of my black dress, over my exposed collarbones, up to my face. His expression didn’t change, but I saw his jaw tighten, just a fraction. In my last life, he had only ever seen me in the demure, high‑necked dresses my sister approved. I’d dressed every morning like I was standing trial and trying not to offend the jury. This time, I
Last Updated : 2025-12-27 Read more