The Nine Eyes Of Lucien Novels & Stories

I asked. “Yes. I can never and will never lie to you. I don’t want to grow horns on my head.” I heard him chuckle and it felt so real. I looked at his eyes that had turned red and felt myself drawn into them while my head felt heavy. Before I could grasp the meaning of his words, I fell into another deep slumber. … Lucien POV… I was in deep sleep when I heard someone scream my name and I thought that it was Camilla's voice. I immediately woke up and the scene before my eyes broke my heart into a million pieces.

I managed to ask, but it came out in a whisper. His eyes—dark—but full of life—a contrast to their usual—remained on me. "I'm Lucien. And I'm very different from Draven, or my brother," he said. I nodded, stunned. I could tell. The eyes. I dragged my gaze down, anywhere else but those mesmerizing eyes of his. "I know." His brows flickered. "Do you?" I nodded again, suddenly aware of how much his touch sent tingles in between my legs.

Hearing your thoughts and seeing what you can see… What's the difference? I did not reply. I merely showed her what the difference was. In front of Snowie's stunned gaze, I thrust my finger into my right eye and forcibly plucked my eyeball out. Of course, there would not be blood or gore. After all, my right eye was a prosthetic.

His green eyes felt several shades darker than they usually were… Unknowingly, I bit my lower lip tight as I continued to hold his gaze. Suddenly, Lucien got up from his seat and walked towards the wooden worktable located on one side of the room. Opening the drawer, he produced a small box that I soon realized was a safe. With the safe in both his hands, Lucien slowly returned to his seat at the dining table, opposite me.

But his eyes… His fucking eyes. They were the same. Cold. Amused. As if he was looking at a fly he was about to pull the wings off. My mouth opened but nothing came out. My legs felt like jelly. “You’re… no, no, you’re dead, I saw it. You’re not real. You can’t be real.” Lucien didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. He just smiled wider… and took one slow step forward. I whimpered. Actually whimpered.

The screaming stopped. Lucien dropped back to the ground. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then his eyes opened. They weren’t brown anymore. They glowed blue, the same blue as the gate, the same blue as the statue. He sat up slowly, like a man waking from a long sleep. His wounds were gone. The cuts, the burns, the blood — all of it vanished, leaving unmarked skin. He looked at Aria. Then at Elena. Then at Malric. “Malric,” Lucien said. His voice was different. Deeper. Layered, like two voices speaking at once.

“You breached a hospital for a child.” Lucien looked directly at him. “No. I breached a graveyard for the truth.” Then his eyes found me. For the first time. Long enough to study my face. And when he spoke again, his tone lost all amusement. “She has Clara’s eyes.” Iris stepped forward instantly. “You do not get to say her name like memory belongs to you.” Lucien ignored her. Instead he reached slowly into his coat. Weapons rose immediately across the room. But he withdrew no gun. Only a sealed envelope.

His eyes looks more icy than usual and it gave off a very powerful energy, he looked scary and hot at the same time I almost bit myself in the tongue to still think this monster before me is hot despite being blood drenched. As the seconds tick by, Lucien's gaze never wavers, his eyes holding a mysterious gleam that seems to dance with a mixture of menace and intrigue. I struggle to find my voice, my throat constricted by a potent combination of curiosity and fear. What has he gotten himself involved in? And more importantly, what does this mean for me? Questions flood my mind, but before I can’t find the courage to speak, Lucien breaks our eye contact. With a final, lingering glance he look

Breathing heavily, he glanced up at the moon, his eyes slowly closing. Emily swallowed the lump in her throat, unsure of what he was about to do. But as she watched, she felt her breath catch in her throat. When Lucian opened his eyes, she saw the once bright wayfarer blue orbs turn into a brilliant red ringed with silver. It was like his eyes were reacting to the moonlight. Suddenly, black smoke began to come out of his face and take the shape of a beast's snout, as if Lucian's human body were being possessed by it.

Lucien’s eyes snapped open. They were two black pits of dilated glass, reflecting nothing but the dim city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He didn't see Evelyn Rose Sterling, the scientist or the wife. He saw a shape. A heat source. A way to quiet the chemical fire screaming through his veins. ‘Stay,’ he rasped. It wasn't a request; it was a guttural command, the voice of a man drowning. He lunged, his movements jerky and uncoordinated but backed by a terrifying, drug-induced strength. He rolled, pinning her beneath the heavy weight of his chest. The heat coming off him was staggering, a literal furnace of skin and sweat.