His Bride, His Blood Price
Chapter 23 — The Way He Stayed
Aria's POV
The morning came slow and soft, like the world knew she needed mercy.
She opened her eyes to dim light and the faint scent of clean cotton and sandalwood. Her body ached — not from pain, but from exhaustion. Her limbs were heavy, her thoughts slow, but she was safe.
Lucien had moved a chair to her bedside.
And he hadn't left it.
He was still there, half-asleep with his arms crossed, chin dipped forward. Still in his dress shirt from the night before, sleeves rolled up, dark circles beneath his eyes.
As if he hadn't rested at all.
She didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Just watched him.
Because no one had ever stayed like this before.
Not for her.
---
A soft knock came, and Clara peeked in. Aria lifted a hand slightly.
"She's awake," Clara whispered. "I'll bring something light."
Lucien stirred then — sharp and alert in seconds, eyes locking on her.
"You should've called me," he said, his voice low.
"I didn't want to wake you."
"You think I sleep when you're like that?"
Aria hesitated.
"No one's ever stayed before."
Lucien's expression shifted — something flickering behind the cool surface.
Then he stood slowly, stretching without turning away from her.
"Your fever's gone. Doctor said it was mild. The sedative dose wasn't strong."
"But enough to make me vulnerable."
"Yes."
"To make me a headline."
Lucien's jaw clenched.
"That won't happen again."
---
She sat up slowly, ignoring the way her limbs still trembled.
Lucien poured her water and handed it to her — no words, no softness.
Just presence.
And somehow, that was enough.
After a moment, she said, "Why didn't you kill her?"
He didn't pretend not to understand.
"Because you're still recovering."
"That's not an answer."
Lucien leaned against the window.
"She wanted to humiliate you. Maybe make me lose face. Maybe remind me of who I used to be."
Aria sipped the water carefully. "And who's that?"
Lucien didn't answer.
She didn't press.
Not now.
---
Later That Day
Lucien insisted she stay in bed, but didn't leave the room. He answered quiet phone calls. Sent a few clipped messages. Read through several files.
But always close.
Always watching.
When Clara brought soup, Lucien stayed while she ate.
When Aria lay back down, he adjusted the blanket without saying a word.
Hours passed like that — in a kind of silence that wasn't empty, but warm.
And when dusk fell and the shadows grew long, Aria whispered, "I'm not weak."
Lucien looked up from his book.
"I know."
"I just… froze last night."
"You didn't."
She met his gaze.
"You saw me fall."
"I saw you poisoned. And still standing."
---
Lucien's POV
She was so small against the pillows.
But her eyes held fire.
And for the first time since this began, Lucien wanted to ask her things. Not as tests. Not as traps.
Just… to know her.
But he didn't.
He wasn't ready for what those answers might do to him.
Instead, he pulled a blanket from the closet and dropped it on the couch by the window.
She blinked. "You're staying?"
"I've already stayed."
"Right."
A pause.
"Thank you," she said.
Lucien didn't respond.
But he didn't leave either.
---
Aria's POV — Midnight
She couldn't sleep.
The storm outside had returned, gentle but constant.
She pushed the blanket aside and padded barefoot to the window.
Lucien was still awake on the couch, shirt half-unbuttoned, eyes closed but not asleep.
She sat on the rug beside him, knees pulled to her chest.
He didn't open his eyes.
"You should be in bed."
"I'm tired of the bed."
"You almost passed out last night."
"I remember," she whispered. "I also remember the way you looked at me after. Like I mattered."
Lucien opened his eyes then.
And for once, didn't look away.
"You do."
---
The silence was heavier after that.
Not cold.
Just… thick with everything unsaid.
Aria leaned her head against the couch cushion beside him.
She felt his hand drift down — hesitant — until his fingers brushed hers.
She didn't pull away.
Neither of them moved after that.
Two hands.
Quietly tangled.
In the dark.