Chapter 78: Intimate Threats

Chapter 78

The sun was beginning to rise and only then did Dimitri find the courage to come back home.He stepped through the front door, the familiar creak of the old hinges echoing in the dim hallway. The house felt heavier tonight—something lingering in the air like a storm on the verge of breaking. Lucas was here. He could feel it in the way his skin prickled, his heart drumming with a steady, knowing pulse. He always knew where Lucas was, like a curse stitched into his bones.

He exhaled slowly, bracing himself. Whatever destruction Lucas had wrought, Dimitri would face it. There was always a mess when Lucas was involved—always something that required careful cleanup, both physical and emotional.

But when he rounded the corner and stepped into the dimly lit living room, he wasn't prepared for what he saw.

Lucas was there, perched casually on the edge of the armchair, as if he owned the room. But he wasn't drenched in blood or chaos this time—he was wrapped in Dimitri's clothes.

The black hoodie hung loose over his slender frame, the sleeves pushed lazily up to his elbows to reveal a wide expanse of pale skin. The sweatpants—ones Dimitri had worn countless times—clung low on his hips, accentuating the sharp angles of his body. His jet black hair dripped with water, beads of it tracing slow paths down his neck, dampening the fabric at the collar. The wet strands clung to his forehead, framing those sharp blue eyes that glittered in the low light.

His breath hitched, and a slow wave of obsession curled around his heart...Mine.

That singular thought echoed through him, sharp and possessive. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to storm across the room, to yank Lucas off the chair, and claim every inch of space between them.

But it wasn't just the clothes or the damp hair that stunned Dimitri into silence—it was Lucas's mouth. His lips, slightly parted and impossibly red, glistened as if he'd just been kissed too hard or bitten too deep.

He looked beyond seductive.

Lucas's gaze flicked to Dimitri, and a wicked grin curled across his face as if to say, You weren't expecting this, were you?

The air between them seemed to thicken, as if every shadow in the room pulled closer, drawn by the magnetic pull of Lucas's presence.

For a moment, Dimitri forgot how to breathe. The image burned itself into his mind: Lucas, disheveled and dangerous, lounging in his clothes as if to taunt Dimitri.

Lucas shifted slightly in the chair, running his tongue over his bloodstained lips, as if savoring the taste. And when he smiled—a languid, predatory thing—it wasn't just seductive.

It was a promise.

Dimitri's heart pounded as he tried to process the sight before him, the raw intensity of Lucas's presence. But something else caught his eye.

Casually resting against his thigh, was Dimitri's journal.

Panic surged through him, hot and electric. He knew what that journal contained—his sick thoughts, his fears, the words he had never meant to share, laid bare for anyone to read,most of all his dark obsession that sat in his living room.

"Lucas," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper, his throat tightening with a mix of dread and disbelief. The playful glint in Lucas's eyes shifted, sharpening like a blade. Dimitri could almost feel the shift in the air, the predatory anticipation that rolled off him in waves.

Slowly, instinctively, Dimitri began to back away, his feet gliding against the wooden floor, the soft sound barely audible in the thick tension that enveloped them. He could feel the fear coiling in his gut, growing tighter with each passing second.

"Come on, Dimitri. Don't you dare run away." Lucas's voice dripped with honeyed malice, each word wrapping around Dimitri like a noose. "If you know me so well , you wouldn't think of it."

With every fiber of his being screaming at him to flee, Dimitri hesitated, frozen between the urge to confront the danger and the instinct to run. The weight of the moment pressed down on him, the chill of fear making it hard to breathe.

Lucas tilted his head slightly, the journal still resting against his thigh, his fingers drumming lazily over the worn leather cover. His eyes narrowed with something more dangerous than mere curiosity—a cold amusement, as if he were savoring the moment before breaking something precious.

"I read this," Lucas said, almost too softly, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "You've been watching me... for how long, Dimitri?" His voice held no anger, only a calm that was more unsettling. The real threat lay beneath that calm—like a serpent coiled in the grass, waiting to strike.

Dimitri swallowed hard, inching backward, his pulse thundering in his ears. Lucas didn't look furious—he looked intrigued. That made it worse.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" Lucas continued, standing up slowly. The journal dangled from his hand, the pages splayed open as if mocking Dimitri with all the secrets it contained. Each confession was a step deeper into his obsession—a web Dimitri had spun without realizing just how tightly it would ensnare him.

Dimitri tried to back away farther, but his feet stumbled slightly over the edge of the rug. Panic surged, a wave of desperation that gnawed at the edges of his mind. He had always known this moment might come, but nothing had prepared him for the reality of it—for Lucas, standing before him, wearing his clothes, holding his darkest thoughts in hand.

Lucas's eyes glinted with something feral as he closed the distance between them in two swift strides. Dimitri flinched when Lucas's cold fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, yanking him forward. The sudden closeness made it impossible to breathe. Lucas's grip was firm, his hand steady as if he had no intention of letting go—ever.

"Why did you write it all down, hmm?" Lucas whispered, leaning closer, his lips brushing the shell of Dimitri's ear. "The way you feel. The things you think about when you see me."

Dimitri's heart slammed against his ribcage, frantic and erratic, as if it were trying to claw its way out.

Lucas's other hand ghosted over the spine of the journal, tapping it thoughtfully. "I saw the confessions," he murmured, his voice a dangerous lullaby. "Every single one. And you know what, Dimitri?" His grip on the back of Dimitri's neck tightened, pulling him even closer until there was no space left between them. "I liked them."

A shiver shot down Dimitri's spine, and he bit down on a whimper that threatened to escape. His mind screamed at him to run, but his body betrayed him, frozen under the weight of Lucas's presence.

"You're sick," Lucas whispered against his skin, but the words were spoken with a twisted sort of affection. His lips brushed against the side of Dimitri's throat, soft and deliberate. "Just like me."

Dimitri gasped, his knees buckling slightly, but Lucas didn't let him fall. Instead, he pressed him back against the nearest wall, pinning him there with a strength that felt effortless. His blue eyes burned with intensity, locking Dimitri in place.

"You thought I wouldn't find out," Lucas said, voice low and intimate, as if they were sharing a secret. "You thought you could just watch me, write about me, without consequence." He tilted his head, studying Dimitri as if he were now a puzzle to be solved. "But now... now I want to know everything."

Dimitri shivered under Lucas's gaze, feeling both exposed and ensnared. He could sense the storm gathering behind those blue eyes, a storm that threatened to consume them both. And yet, beneath the fear, something darker stirred within him—a thrill, an exhilaration he couldn't quite suppress.

"Tell me, Dimitri," Lucas whispered, his lips brushing against Dimitri's ear again, sending shivers down his spine. "What else do you want to confess?"

Lucas's grip on the back of Dimitri's neck tightened, his fingers digging into the soft skin like claws. The calm veneer was cracking—something darker was seeping through. The journal dangled at his side now, forgotten in the moment as something far more personal surfaced.

"Why did you have those photos of me?" Lucas's voice, once low and measured, now carried an edge—. His gaze bored into Dimitri's, unblinking, every muscle coiled with simmering intensity. "But not just me, Dimitri." His tone sharpened, words laced with venom. "You had pictures of Annabeth."

The mention of her name was a spark to kindling. Lucas's whole body tensed, the muscles in his jaw clenched so tight it looked like his teeth might crack. Annabeth—the only person he had ever cared for, the one person he tried to protect ,even to the end, even in his twisted way. The thought that someone else, even Dimitri, had been in possession of her photos ignited something deep and violent within him. A possessiveness so raw it left no room for rational thought.

"Why, Dimitri?" Lucas whispered, each syllable like a threat, though his voice remained soft—a dangerous, deadly calm. His forehead pressed against Dimitri's, the contact intimate but charged with malice, as if Lucas was daring him to answer wrong.

Dimitri tried to move his head, tried to create space between them, but Lucas only pulled him closer, locking him in place. Their breaths mingled—uneven, heated—filling the narrow space between them. Dimitri had grown taller recently,Lucas was now noticing , their faces now perfectly aligned, and yet it didn't matter. Even with their foreheads pressed together, Lucas exuded dominance.

"Why her?" Lucas repeated, the words a sharp hiss through gritted teeth. With every repetition, his grip around the back of Dimitri's neck tightened, the pressure steadily increasing.

"I—" Dimitri stammered, his voice cracking. His lips trembled under the weight of Lucas's presence, and his mind scrambled for an explanation, any excuse that might calm the storm brewing behind those blue eyes.

But Lucas wasn't in the mood for excuses.

"I don't care if it was you," Lucas growled, the words a low rumble from deep in his chest. "It could've been anyone, and it wouldn't matter." His fingers dug deeper, and Dimitri let out a soft, involuntary gasp.

"You took *her* picture," Lucas whispered, venom lacing every syllable. The weight of his anger was suffocating, pressing down on Dimitri until it felt like the walls were closing in. "Annabeth wasn't for you. She wasn't for anyone. She was thw only person I gave a damn about."

The rage simmered beneath the surface, barely restrained but all the more terrifying for it. Lucas's expression was an eerie blend of fury and control—like a predator playing with its prey just to see how long it could struggle.

Dimitri's breath hitched. Panic clawed at him, desperate and animalistic, but Lucas only leaned in closer, as if he could absorb every ounce of fear through their shared skin.

"You think you can hide things from me? Think you can take what's mine?" Lucas whispered, his forehead still pressed to Dimitri's, their noses almost touching. His voice was low, intimate, but there was nothing tender about it—it was a warning, a promise of the pain that would follow.

"Tell me," Lucas demanded, his voice soft but brutal, "why did you take *her* picture, Dimitri?"

The silence between them stretched thin, taut as a wire, and the pressure on Dimitri's neck grew unbearable. The longer Lucas waited, the more the rage in his eyes burned, and Dimitri knew—knew with every fiber of his being—that one wrong answer would tip Lucas over the edge.

"Say it," Lucas whispered, each word a threat that hung in the charged air. "Say it, or I swear, Dimitri, I'll kill you."

And for a moment, it wasn't just fear Dimitri felt—it was the terrifying realization that Lucas might enjoy doing it.