ash_knight17

The clock struck midnight when Ruelle heard the echo of footsteps. She tensed, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end in the cool night air.

"You shouldn't be here," Ruelle whispered, her voice a breathless murmur. The silhouette finally came to stand under the moonlight, his dark red eyes watching her and his inky black hair ruffling.

"Shouldn't I?" His voice was a dark caress, and she stood there captivated by the danger he exuded like perfume.

"I haven’t seen you for the last two days," his tone low. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against the silk of her nightgown, tracing the trembling outline of her collarbone. "Tell me, were you avoiding me, or perhaps... entertaining other offers?"

Ruelle’s heart raced, her breaths shallow. She declared, "I don't belong to anyone.”

"A bold claim," he murmured, his breath a tantalising chill against her skin as he leaned in. "Yet here you are, pulse racing, your body tensed as if in anticipation of my touch."

His fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face towards his. The moonlight caught his eyes, revealing a glint of predatory intent. "Or must I remind you whose touch you truly crave?"

Claimed by the Prince of Darkness

The slap echoed through the corridor like a gunshot in winter. For a moment, even the flames in the torches seemed to still, holding their breath in stunned silence.

Lucian's head tilted slightly with the blow—not in recoil, but in acknowledgment. His posture remained unshaken, regal and still. But something in his eyes flickered which was quiet and razor-thin.

His grip tightened on the velvet box in his hand.

Ruelle's hand dropped to her side, burning with the sting of contact. Her breath was shallow, and her eyes—wide, glassy—swam with tears she tried to hold back, and it locked onto his.

"Whoa—easy, easy now—" Sawyer's voice broke the silence, low with disbelief as he pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against. "What did you just do?"

The Box and the Blow