Page 48 of Necromance
I huffed, ignoring the warmth creeping up my neck. “You’re—“
“Insufferable,” he finished for me, stealing the word from my mouth as his grin widened.
I narrowed my eyes, but for a long moment, neither of us spoke. The only sounds were the soft crackling of the fire and the rhythmic patter of rain against the window as Lucien cleaned my wounds and unmatted my blood soaked hair, washing it with a gentle expertise.
Lucien’s fingers lingered against my skin longer than necessary. I should have pulled away. Should have put space between us before I forgot how to breathe properly.
But I didn’t. And neither did he.
His gaze dipped—to my lips, then back to my eyes.
The air shifted, thick with something unspoken. Something fragile.
I didn’t know who leaned in first.
It was barely a movement, just the slightest tilt, the smallest breath of space between us. But it was enough. Enough for my pulse to stutter. Enough for his fingers to tighten just a fraction against my wrist. Enough for me to realize that if I let this moment continue, I might never recover from it.
I cleared my throat, forcing myself to shift back. “Thank you,” I said again, my voice quieter than I intended.
Lucien hesitated. Just for a second. Then, slowly, he let go. I hated how cold my skin felt without his touch. He straightened, steppingback just enough to allow space to breathe, though something in his expression remained unreadable.
Whatever had passed between us, he wasn’t going to acknowledge it. Not yet. Neither was I.
I exhaled sharply, pushing the lingering warmth in my skin—his touch, his nearness, that moment—far from my mind.
Focus, Mia.
I turned away from Lucien, my pulse still uneven, and crossed the room to where my satchel lay slumped beside the chair. The firelight flickered against the worn leather as I knelt, my fingers working nervously to untie the straps. It was time to face Lucien’s anger. No better time than now, with so many hours still left in the night, and my injuries too much for me to leave the room again.
I drew it out carefully. It pulsed softly, as though it were alive, casting eerie reflections against my palm. I swallowed against the uneasy knot twisting in my stomach.
Behind me, Lucien shifted, his presence as heavy as the storm brewing outside. “What is that?”
His voice had changed. The warmth from before—that flicker of something almost tender—was gone, replaced with a sharp edge of caution.
I rolled the vial between my fingers, watching the way the glow swirled lazily inside. “In the book we found… the one with the curse in it…”My grandmother’sbook. “…I found a potion that can help me see your memories.”
His silence was damning.
Then, after a beat, he said my name, just once. A warning.
”When did you make this little potion?”
I swallowed, taking a step back as I twisted the vial nervously in my hands. “Don’t be mad,” I said quickly when his eyes narrowed.
”I can’t promise you anything…”
I bit my lip and his eyes trailed to my mouth just for a moment. “Mia?”
I threw one hand in the air. “Alright. This morning… I made it this morning after you left.” I looked down, unable to meet his eyes.
”You lied to me,” he said, his tone hard, cold.
I looked up to meet his gaze then moved toward him. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly, resting my hand on his arm as I tilted my head back to search his angry eyes. “It’s a hallucinogen. A powerful one.” My voice wavered, just slightly. “It allows me to see into a spirit’s past. I think I can use it to see your memories.”
Lucien remained perfectly still, his expression unreadable, but something about the way his stance shifted sent a shiver down my spine.
“And what’s the cost?” he asked, voice low.
