IN THE QUIET OF THE NIGHT

The stars above the Underworld were dim tonight, like dying embers clinging to life behind the ash-streaked sky. But it was enough. Enough light to guide Lucian and Evelyn down the quiet path that led away from the palace, away from the noise and burdens and masks they both wore daily.

They arrived at a small, nearly hidden hut carved into the side of a wooded hill. It had once belonged to a healer, now long gone. Lucian had discovered it years ago, and since then, it had been his place of solitude—a space untouched by duty.

Evelyn looked up at him as he pushed the door open.

"Why here?" she asked softly.

Lucian hesitated. Then, without looking back at her, he answered, "Because it's the one place I'm not expected to be anything but myself."

Inside, the air was warm and faintly scented with dried lavender and ancient wood. A soft fire burned low in the hearth. Furs and pillows lined the floor, and a small wooden table sat tucked into a corner.

They entered, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Lucian moved to light an old lantern. Its glow bathed the space in golden warmth.

Evelyn turned toward him slowly. "Lucian," she said, voice quiet, "I'm glad you brought me here."

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he just looked at her, like he was seeing her for the first time—not as a servant, not as someone he had to protect, but as a woman. A woman he had come to care for more than he would ever admit.

"I needed to," he finally replied. "I needed to be near you without walls around me."

A beat of silence passed.

Evelyn stepped closer. "Then why do you always pull away from me?"

Lucian's eyes searched hers. "Because… I don't want to hurt you. Because the moment I let you in, I won't know how to protect you from what I am. From what this place is. I'm the right hand of the king, Evelyn. I don't get to have softness."

Evelyn lifted her hand and touched his face, gently tracing the scar near his jawline.

"You're wrong," she whispered. "You don't always have to be hard to be strong."

Lucian closed his eyes at her touch. The tension in his shoulders melted as her fingertips moved across his skin.

"I've waited a long time for you to see me," she said.

He opened his eyes. "I've seen you every day," he replied. "That's the problem."

Before either of them could say more, he leaned in and kissed her.

It was slow at first. Hesitant. Like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, deciding whether to fall. Her lips were warm, soft, familiar in a way that both comforted and unmoored him. She responded with equal tenderness, her hand slipping behind his neck, drawing him closer.

Lucian pulled back slightly, breath ragged. "We don't have to do this tonight," he said, always the protector.

"But I want to," Evelyn replied, eyes steady. "Lucian, this isn't about timing. It's about truth. I want to be with you—not later, not someday. Now."

He kissed her again, this time with more urgency. She responded in kind, pressing against him as if she had been waiting for this moment her whole life.

Clothes were shed between kisses and gentle touches. There was no rush. Every motion was deliberate. Lucian's hands ran along the sides of her waist, memorizing every curve, every breath she took under him. Evelyn's fingers ran through his hair, tracing down his shoulders, his spine, his soul.

They lay among the furs, bodies wrapped in one another, lit only by firelight and the glow of everything they hadn't said until now.

Lucian's lips trailed down her collarbone, across her chest, mapping her skin like sacred scripture. He whispered her name between each kiss like a vow.

"Are you sure?" he asked, one final time, even as their bodies tangled and hearts beat in rhythm.

"I've never been more sure," she replied, pulling him closer.

Then he thrust into her slow, reverent, at first but then he started to go faster. It felt real

They moved in a dance made only for two, driven by longing and deep, rooted affection. Their connection wasn't just physical—it was emotional. Every sigh, every touch was a release of everything they had buried.

And when the world outside the hut continued its dark slumber, Lucian and Evelyn remained wrapped in each other's arms. His hand rested against her cheek, her head tucked beneath his chin.

Evelyn whispered, "You're not alone anymore."

Lucian didn't answer. He only held her tighter, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips, and for the first time in a long while—he believed it.

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