Chapter 97: Of Scent and Stubborn Company
Lucian stood motionless in the centre of the small chamber.
It was not the room that held his attention, though.
It was her.
It always had been.
Even now, as she stood across from him with a knife still loosely held at her side, her shoulders drawn with quiet tension, there was something about her presence that settled into him in a way he could neither deny nor explain.
It had always been this way.
From the very beginning.
There was a scent she carried—no, it was not perfume, nor was it anything artificial or adorned—but something softer, warmer, and familiar too.
It reached him now, subtle yet unmistakable, threading through his senses like a memory half-forgotten yet deeply known.
It calmed him.
Steadied something restless within his chest.
His heartbeat, which had been sharp with the risk of being discovered, began to ease.
Slower.
Quieter.
As though her mere presence commanded it to behave.
