92

92
Moore
I don’t know how I managed to fall asleep despite the storm raging inside my mind. Thoughts of Lucien’s threats against my family kept circling my head, an endless loop of fear and uncertainty. I kept glancing at my phone, hoping, dreading that my father would call, that I’d receive some sign of what was happening outside these walls.
But there was nothing.
Nothing except the crushing silence of the night and the suffocating weight of my reality.
Maybe he hadn't done anything yet, but I was certain he would.
I hadn't spoken to my father since the day I was forced into this marriage. I should be angry at him, furious for selling me off to Lucien like I was nothing more than a pawn in some twisted game. But even through my anger, I knew the truth. I was the ultimate sacrifice. If I hadn’t agreed, my sister’s career would have been destroyed, and my father would have lost everything. He would have gone from one of the most powerful men in Italy to nothing but a nameless, ruined man.
And Lucien?
Lucien was capable of anything.
I shuddered, my mind drifting back to the way he’d pinned me against his door earlier. His body had been so close, his warmth pressing against me like a phantom touch I couldn't shake off. His scent—clean, crisp, with an undertone of something dark and intoxicating—still clung to my senses. And the way he had looked at me…
Like he wanted to consume me.
Like he already had.
My breath came slow and heavy as I drifted deeper into unconsciousness, my mind slipping into the strange in-between place of sleep.
And that’s when it started.
The dream.
It wasn’t like my usual nightmares, the ones filled with betrayal, pain, and the cold grip of punishment. No, this one was different.
I felt hot.
My body burned from the inside out, a slow, molten heat curling through me. It wasn’t painful—it was something else entirely. Arousal? I almost gasped at the realization, my thighs instinctively pressing together.
Someone was staring at me.
Not just anyone. Him.
Lucien.
He was there, watching me with those piercing grey eyes, his gaze running over my body like a slow caress.
I could feel his presence before I even saw him. His energy, dark and dangerous, wrapping around me like an invisible chain. He wasn’t touching me, but I could feel him—his breath ghosting over my skin, the warmth of his body radiating into mine.
My lips parted as an unfamiliar ache coiled low in my stomach.
Lucien smirked, his sharp, predatory smile making my pulse hammer against my ribs.
“You look so… hot,” he murmured, his voice like silk and steel. “Are you dreaming of me, Moore?”
I gasped, my head shaking, but I couldn’t form the words. My body betrayed me, trembling under his invisible touch.
His fingers, long, commanding, possessive, traced the curve of my jaw before trailing lower, ghosting over my collarbone, then further…
A needy whimper escaped my lips.
Lucien chuckled, low and dangerous. “Pathetic.”
And then he leaned in, his lips so close to mine I could taste his breath—
I jerked awake with a strangled gasp, my body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. My chest rose and fell erratically as I struggled to remember where I was, what was real and what wasn’t.
But the sensation in my dream—it was still there. Lingering.
A heat between my thighs. The pulse of something raw and unfamiliar.
And then… the feeling of being watched.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I froze.
I wasn’t alone.
The weight of a stare pressed down on me, heavy and unyielding. My breath hitched as I slowly turned my head toward the darkened corner of my room.
And there he was.
Lucien.
Standing at the edge of my bed, watching me with the eyes of a predator who had just caught his prey.
A scream bubbled up in my throat, but it barely left my lips before he smiled.
That slow, knowing, sinister smile.
My stomach twisted. I scrambled upright, my hands gripping the sheets like they were my last lifeline.
“What the hell are you doing in my room?” My voice came out sharp, breathless, a mix of fear and residual heat from my dream.
Lucien tilted his head, amusement flickering across his sharp features. “Why? Aren’t I welcome?”
I blinked, stunned by his casual tone.
Was he… joking?
Lucien never joked.
He was unpredictable, cruel, calculating—but never this. This was different. Wrong.
Something about him felt off tonight.
“I—” I swallowed, trying to steady myself. “You can’t just—sneak up on me like that.”
His smirk widened. “Sorry. Not sorry.”
I hated how effortlessly he got under my skin.
Lucien took a slow step forward, his gaze dropping to my tangled sheets before flicking back to my face. “You looked like you were having a very… interesting dream.”
My breath caught. No.
Heat flooded my cheeks, the shame crawling up my throat like a noose. Did he know? Could he tell?
I shook my head too quickly. “I wasn’t dreaming.”
His lips twitched. “Lying doesn’t suit you, Moore.”
He took another step closer.
Too close.
“I wasn’t dreaming,” I repeated, my voice firmer, even as my pulse betrayed me.
Lucien’s eyes darkened, his amusement shifting into something far more dangerous. “Right. There’s only one way to find out, slave.”
I froze.
The word hit me like a whip.
I hadn’t heard him call me that in weeks. It had almost—almost—felt like he was starting to see me as more than just his possession. But now…
Now, he was reminding me exactly what I was.
“What… what do you want?” I whispered, my throat tightening.
Lucien’s gaze locked onto mine, and then, without hesitation, he gave a single, merciless command.
“Strip.”
The air was sucked from my lungs.
The room spun. I bite my lips to stop me from acting shocked. I should be prepared for this side of him always.
I stared at him, my body frozen between defiance and something far more dangerous.
Something I couldn’t name.
And then… he stepped closer.
And closer.
Until there was nowhere left to run.