-Elara Voss:
Lucien didn't move away, not at first. His breath ghosted over my lips, and for a moment, we were just there—suspended in something that felt fragile and electric all at once.
Then his lips brushed against mine. Soft at first. Barely there. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to do this or if he was allowed to want this. But then, slowly, he pressed closer.
It was careful, hesitant—like a man stepping onto the ice he knew could crack beneath him at any second. But the second it did, he fell.
I felt his hands curl, gripping the edge of the table as if anchoring himself, as if this was something dangerous. And gods, maybe it was. Maybe we were.
His lips moved against mine, unhurried but searching, and I melted into it, into him. The scent of him, the feel of him, the quiet shudder of breath between us.
But then—
Lucien stiffened.
