Page 9 of Exorcise Me
The bathroom, like every space Lucien touched, had been transformed. My previously utilitarian setup now featured neatly arranged products, plush new towels I didn’t remember buying, and a scented candle burning on the counter.
“Ridiculous,” I muttered, even as I appreciated the soft lighting and gentle lavender scent.
I stripped off my clothes, dropping them in the new hamper that had appeared sometime during the week. My reflection caught my attention—I did look different. My skin clearer, yes, but something else too. My eyes seemed brighter, more alive than they had in months.
Exposed to dark influences,Father Finnegan’s voice echoed in my mind.
I turned away from the mirror and stepped into the shower, letting hot water wash away the remnants of the day. As steam filled the bathroom, I found my thoughts drifting to Lucien—the way his eyes crinkled when he really smiled, how his hands moved when he talked, the graceful line of his throat when he tipped his head back in laughter.
This is dangerous,I thought, closing my eyes as water cascaded over me.This is exactly what I was warned about.
But the warnings hadn’t mentioned how it would feel—this slow, inexorable pull toward something forbidden. They hadn’t explained that temptation wouldn’t come as a clear choicebetween good and evil, but as a thousand small moments of connection that made me question which was which.
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t hear the bathroom door open. It wasn’t until a draft of cooler air hit my skin that I realized I wasn’t alone.
“I forgot to tell you that the hot water runs—” Lucien’s voice cut off abruptly.
I froze, one hand still in my shampoo-covered hair, the shower curtain only partially drawn. Through the gap, I could see Lucien standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and fixed on me.
Time seemed to stop. Water ran down my naked body while Lucien stared, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker, hungrier. His eyes tracked a droplet of water as it traveled down my chest, past my stomach, lower…
“I—” he swallowed, his composure completely shattered for the first time since I’d met him. “The hot water runs out quickly. I was going to warn you.”
I should have covered myself. I should have pulled the curtain closed. I should have told him to get out.
I did none of those things.
Instead, I stood there, letting him look at me, a strange heat that had nothing to do with the shower spreading through my body.
“Thanks for the warning,” I finally managed, my voice hoarser than I intended.
Lucien’s eyes snapped back to my face. Something passed between us, electric and dangerous. He took a half-step forward before catching himself.
“I should—” he gestured vaguely toward the door, but didn’t move.
“Yeah,” I agreed, but made no move to cover myself either.
The air between us grew thick with unspoken things. I watched his chest rise and fall with quickened breaths, saw his pupils dilate until the amber was just a thin ring around black.
“Noah,” he said, my name almost a groan. “I should go.”
“Probably,” I whispered.
He didn’t. Instead, he took another step into the bathroom, then another, until he was standing just outside the shower, close enough that I could see the individual lashes framing his extraordinary eyes.
“Tell me to leave,” he said, his voice rough with restraint. “If you want me to go, you have to say it.”
I knew what he was doing. Giving me control. Letting me make the choice.
Water continued to cascade down my body. Steam curled between us. I could see his shirt darkening with moisture where water droplets reached him.
“Lucien,” I said, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it even over the shower.
“Yes?” His eyes never left mine.
Words failed me. Instead, I reached out, my wet hand grasping the front of his shirt, and pulled him toward me.
Our lips crashed together with the force of a week’s worth of tension finally snapping. He made a sound against my mouth—surprise and hunger combined—before his arms wrapped around me, heedless of the water now soaking his clothes.
