Page 24 of Black Castle

The nickname makes something warm settle in his gaze. When she called him that at the bookfair, she didn’t think she was going to stick to it. She didn’t really think they would meet again, to be honest. It was the first thing that came to her mind the moment her eyes fell on him. Icy hair, icy eyebrows, icy lashes, and pale skin.

“Okay,” he murmurs, his hand clenching around the book. “We can do that.”

They continue to surf shelves. And an hour later, their cart is filled with over fifty books, most which Vivienne already read and loved. And she can’t wait for him to experience that thrill she felt when she read them for the first time.

They are outside now. He came with two soldiers. One handling the wheel, while one acts as the assigned guard. The one behind the wheel is still there, waiting for the command to hit the road running, while the bodyguard is by the trunk, putting the books away.

The sun is waning now, casting a long shadow across the parking lot. The wind brings along the buttery scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery.

Lucan turns to her as they stand by the opened door of the backseat. Something warm flickers in his eyes, a barely-there softness that makes her stomach twist.

Then he murmurs, low and quiet, “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asks, tucking her phone into her jeans pocket, ignoring Kenji’s text to not forget they have a movie date by 6pm.

“For helping me get some books.” There is no smile, no visible shift in his stoic expression. But there is a genuine sincerity in his voice.

Her fingers itch to lift and brush away the strands of hair the wind has combed against his face.

“Anything for a friend.”

The word friend suddenly feels like needles pressing into her tongue. You don’t think about kissing your friend. You don’t burn for their touch. And your heart must definitely not race at the thought of having a relationship with them.

This has to be the fastest way she has ever developed a crush on any man. Calling him a friend feels…painful, wrong.

“Should um…” she murmurs hesitantly, shyly tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “Should we grab coffee over there?”

Lucan glances at the café across the street, his expression unreadable, as if weighing something heavier than just a coffee date.

Lifting his hand, though, he turns his wrist to glance at his wristwatch, then his gaze flickers back to her.

“Of course—” He is saying until a low guttural sound rips from his lips—part growl, part agonizing howl. His hands fly to cradle his head as if something inside there is tearing him apart. He staggers, his body buckling.

Vivienne’s pulse spikes, everything happening in a blur of motion; the soldier by the trunk pushing past her to steady him, the one by the wheel leaping out to hold him.

In his soldiers steady arms, Lucan groans, veins straining against his neck and temple. And his breaths are sharp and ragged.

Vivienne’s heart pounds, her legs shaking.

What is happening?

“No, no, no,” he whispers, barely audible, his voice thick with pain. “No, not now, not now.” He sounds broken, desperate.

The soldiers begin to usher him to the car, one of them bumping into Vivienne, who has barely lifted a foot, causing her to nearly lose her footing.

“Stop!” Lucan yells, his voice trembling as he braces his hands against the door like a wild animal resiting a cage.

“Leave me here,” he says, his body trembling. “Take her home.”

“But boss—”

“—Get inside the car, Vivienne!”

Vivienne freezes, the order striking harder than it should have. And his eyes. God, his eyes. The warmth in those golden eyes from earlier have nearly vanished, almost replaced by something else entirely. A distant storm churns in them, unruly, like a tempest on the verge of breaking loose.

“Get inside the car.”

Before she can move, he breaks past his soldiers and reaches for her. His fingers curl around her shoulders—not the gentle touch from earlier at the bookstore, but firm and desperate, his talons digging into her skin.

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