Chapter 63 Chapter Ten
Salem's pov
The front door echoed shut with a soft thud that rolled down the hall like a warning. I was halfway down the stairs when I saw her.
Tall. Striking. Dressed in all black—if you could call that barely-there lingerie a proper outfit. Her robe was sheer, fluttering open just enough to show off thin black rope panties and a matching bra that barely restrained her curves. She looked like something pulled out of a devil’s wet dream, right down to the glossy red lips she wore like paint.
Lucian’s posture stiffened the moment he saw her. She didn't knock. Didn’t call out. Just walked in like the house belonged to her.
My bare feet hit the final step as Lucian crossed the foyer in slow, steady strides, his expression unreadable.
“What are you doing here, Brittany?” he said, the word punching out of him like a curse.
She stopped in the middle of the foyer, her heels sinking softly into the rug, lips pulling into a grin. “The name is ciel now”
Her voice was smooth—liquid silk laced with poison. My fingers curled tighter around the railing. I hadn’t moved from the steps. Her eyes cut to me then, lazy and unhurried, “Well, well…”
Her gaze moved over me slowly, intimately. Not with judgment—but curiosity. Hunger. Like she already knew I’d be a problem.
“You’ve been busy,” she murmured, eyes still locked on mine.
Lucian stepped forward, positioning himself between us like a wall. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Ciel tilted her head. “You didn’t exactly return my last message. I figured I’d introduce myself to the new scent in your sheets.”
I felt my chest tighten. Her words weren’t just meant to sting. They were meant to brand.
“I smell obsession,” she said, smile twitching wider as she breathed me in from a distance. “It’s been years since you reeked of anything but grief and rage, Lucian.”
Lucian’s voice darkened. “Back off.”
But Ciel was already circling him like a cat. Like she belonged. Like this was her house, her man, her game. She brushed her fingers along his shoulder, then his chest. “You got broader. Sharper. Meaner,” she said with a sigh. “I like it.”
He grabbed her wrist before she could go lower.
Her grin faltered, just a flicker. Then her eyes darted back to me. “You don’t know who I am, do you, little lamb?”
I didn’t answer. My mouth was dry. My pulse loud in my ears.
Lucian looked at her, something like regret—or warning—flashing through his eyes. “Don’t.”
“Oh, please,” she drawled. “If she’s going to stay here, she should know the kinds of ghosts you let crawl into your bed.”
She stepped around him and approached me directly. No fear. No hesitation. I stood my ground, chin lifting slightly. She noticed. Her smile sharpened, “I like you,” she said. “You don’t cower. Not yet.”
She reached out like she meant to touch my face. I stepped back, pulse spiking. She chuckled, amused.
“You don’t like me?” she asked, pouting. “That’s alright. Most girls don’t.”
Lucian was instantly between us again. His eyes flared. She paused but didn’t retreat.
Then she looked at me again. Really looked, “I’m not just some ex-flame, if that’s what you’re thinking. Lucian and I… we were carved from the same sin.”
A chill slipped down my spine.
She smirked. “My name’s Ciel currently. But in the circles that matter, they call me something else.”
She stepped closer again, this time careful not to touch, just letting the weight of her presence press into me, “I’m Envy,” she said softly. “And you? You smell like something dangerous too.”
The air shifted. She leaned in, close enough for me to feel her breath on my cheek, “You feel it, don’t you?” she murmured, circling me like smoke. “That little bite in your chest when I touch him. That tightening in your throat when I look at you like I already know you. That’s envy, darling. You wear it better than you think.”
Then she turned, robe fluttering like smoke behind her as she walked to the door. Lucian watched her intensely. As if waiting for her to do something to me but she didn't. She didn't dare.
But then she paused, and the air shifted. The room went cold. Gone was the flirty glint in her eyes. What stared back was something ancient. Ruthless. Older and sharper.
“The Order calls for you, Lucian,” she said, voice like steel wrapped in silk. “You don’t get to run forever. Not from them. Not from us.”
He said nothing.
She took a step closer, eyes boring into him like knives.
“You’ve been pretending, playing house with your little ghost here,” she tilted her head toward me, “but the clock is ticking. And you know it.”
A beat.
Then she smiled again—bright, dangerous, beautiful.
“I’ll give you a little more time,” she said sweetly. “But not too much. Pride is already getting restless. And you know how Wrath gets when he’s bored, however, I must warn you. If you don’t come back, Lucian… the Order might not wait. And if they don’t—”
Her eyes flicked toward me, “Well, your girl might get pulled into this.”
My skin prickled.
Lucian didn’t move. Not a blink. Not a breath. Then something shifted in him.
It was subtle—like the moment before lightning splits the sky—but it chilled the air. The shadows in the room seemed to pause. Even Ciel faltered, her teasing smirk twitching at the edges, almost vanishing.
Lucian turned his head slowly toward her. No expression. No softness. Just a bone-deep stillness. “Touch her,” he said, voice razor-thin.
Ciel blinked.
“Lucian—”
“Touch her,” he repeated, softer this time, more dangerous. “And I will unmake you and every other person involved.”
The room felt too small. The walls too close. The kind of stillness that comes before a scream.
Ciel’s fingers tightened at her sides. She was half-naked, gorgeous, lethal—and she shivered.
Lucian stepped toward her. One step. That was all it took, “You think you know what I’m capable of?” he asked, voice smooth as silk stretched over broken glass. “You’ve seen me kill. You’ve seen me burn.”
He was in front of her now, towering. Shadows clung to his shoulders like a cloak.
“But I’ve never done either for someone I loved.”
Ciel’s eyes narrowed. Her throat worked around a swallow.
“She’s made you weak,” she muttered.
“No.” He smiled, but it was a terrible thing. “She’s made me patient. That’s much worse.”
Ciel stepped back.
For the first time, she looked unsure.
“The Order calls for you,” she said, stiff. “You can’t keep running from yourself.”
Lucian didn’t answer.
She cast one last glance at me, something unreadable flickering in her eyes, “Good luck, pretty girl.”
Then she turned and walked out—slowly, like she knew if she moved too fast, she might bleed.
And just like that, she was gone. Her scent lingered—violets and something sharper, darker. I stood still for a long time, breath shallow, my skin crawling with something I didn’t have a name for.
Something that felt a lot like warning.