Page 77 of A Touch of Darkness

“What?” she asks, her tone wary.

“If anything goes wrong, if there’s even a hint of danger, you get out. No heroics. No second-guessing. You will run. Do you understand me?”

Her lips press together in a stubborn line, but after a moment, she nods. “I understand.”

I don’t believe her. Not fully. But it’s a start.

She leans her forehead against mine, her breath warm and steady. She takes a deep breath, and I can’t help but try to decipher the meaning of her movements. “I’m scared,” she admits, her voice a whisper. “But not just for Lara. I’m scared of how much I care about you. It feels too fast, too much, but I can’t stop it.”

Her words pierce through me, sharp and sweet all at once. I lift her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Don’t stop it, then,” I tell her, my voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t run from this. From us. Whatever happens with the Society, with Lara, I need you to know—you’re not alone in this. Not now, not ever.”

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and she nods, pressing her lips to mine in a kiss that feels like a vow.

I don’t know how long we lie tangled together, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath. That simple sound, that fragile motion, is a symphony I can’t silence in my mind. Her presence is a contradiction—soft and fierce, broken and unyielding. How is it possible for one person to be everything I thought I could never have, and yet everything I cannot live without?

After a long, lingering moment, she stirs, shifting slightly under the weight of the blanket, her face soft and unguarded in the low light. In this moment, she is breathtaking—not in the polished, hollow way beauty is often spoken of, but in a way that feels real, tangible. Her vulnerability is etched into every line of her face, every tremble of her lips, and it pulls at something deep within me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, breaking the silence.

The words catch me off guard, cutting through the fragile peace like a blade. I tilt my head, searching her face for meaning. “For what?”

She hesitates, her gaze flickering downward to where her fingers toy with the edge of the blanket. A moment stretches into an eternity before she speaks again, her voice barely audible.

“For running from this. From you.”

The admission hangs between us, raw and unpolished, like an uncut gemstone waiting to be claimed. I say nothing, unwilling to interrupt what she’s fought so hard to say.

“I’ve been trying so hard to put Lara first,” she continues, her words gaining momentum, though they tremble with the weight of her emotions. “To stay focused on her, on finding answers. But you…” Her voice falters, and she closes her eyes as if searching for strength.

“You make it impossible to think of anything else,” she admits, her voice breaking. “I’ve ignored it, fought it, told myself it wasn’t real, that this odd connection I couldn’t explain was just in my head…but it’s the truest thing I’ve ever encountered. And I don’t know how to deal with that.”

Her words ripple through me, shattering every defense I’ve built over centuries. Centuries of calculated control, of purposefully keeping people at arm’s length, unravel in the face of her honesty. She has done more than challenge my resolve—she has remade it entirely.

I sit up slightly, leaning closer, my hand reaching for hers. My fingers trace the back of her hand, marveling at how something so simple can feel like the most profound act.

“I understand,” I say softly, my voice carrying the truth I’ve never spoken aloud. “You think you’re running from me, but you’re not. You’re running from the inevitability of what we are.”

Her eyes widen at my words, a spark of fear mixed with something else—hope, perhaps, or a longing too deep to name.

“Lucian…” Her voice trembles, and my name on her lips feels like a prayer and a curse all at once.

I shift closer, the space between us dissolving as I cup her face in my hands. “Sylvie, you’ve been in my life for mere moments, yet you’ve unraveled centuries of certainty. Do you know what that does to someone like me? You’ve made me question everything. My past, my purpose, even my existence.”

Tears continue to well in her eyes, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans into my touch, her warmth grounding me in a way I haven’t felt in lifetimes.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this,” she confesses, her voice breaking. “But I can’t deny it anymore. What I feel for you—it’s terrifying, overwhelming, but it’s real.”

Her words ignite something in me, a flame that refuses to be extinguished. I brush my thumb across her cheek, catching a stray tear. “You’re stronger than you realize,” I say, my voice low, reverent. “You’ve been strong enough to face the unknown, to challenge a world that’s tried to break you. And now, you’ve been strong enough to face this.”

She exhales a shaky breath, her eyes locked on mine. “I want to stop running,” she whispers. “I want to let myself feel this. But I don’t know how.”

I press my forehead to hers, closing my eyes as her words settle into my soul. “You don’t have to know how,” I murmur. “You just have to let it happen. Let us happen. Fate is on our side, love,” I tell her. “It always has been.”

Her hand lifts, trembling, to rest against my chest, where my heart beats steadily beneath her touch. The gesture is small, but it feels monumental, like the shifting of worlds.

“You make it sound so simple,” she says, a faint, bittersweet smile curving her lips.

“Nothing about this is simple,” I reply, my voice a quiet echo. “But I promise you, Sylvie, it’s worth every complication, every uncertainty.Youare worth it. You are worth everything.”

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