‘Why is she not waking up? Could it be the shock from being almost shot?’

  "—ugh…" The hole that was currently burning a scalding agony in Lucian's flesh forced him to focus on his breathing, on himself, and his pain.

  Not on Celine. Not on the others. Just on the sharp, searing pain that pulsed through his body. He inhaled deeply, letting it fill him, letting it consume him until there was no room for anything else.

  "Where do you think you are going?" Seb asked, his weapon pointed at Lucian.

  Lucian stumbled to his feet. "To my carriage, of course," he replied.

  "You are staying right here," Seb said, and his sword nded in front of Lucian, blocking his way. "Try to escape, and you'll bleed out. Try anything, and I'll give you another hole in the guts."

  "Escape?" Lucian chuckled, picking up his jacket and draping it over his bare shoulders, "From what?"

  "You have been accused of harming Lady Rochefort, Lord Arclight. She'll decide your fate once she wakes up."

  "What if she wakes up and finds me in a worse state? Are you sure she would like that?" Lucian said, his hand reaching for the sword's bde.

  "What are you—"

  "Useless soldiers with useless weapons die the fastest. Why is that?" Lucian interrupted, pushing the sword aside, "It's because they don't know when and where to draw their weapons, when and where to use them, and, more importantly, when and where to retreat."

  Seb didn't get provoked and remained calm, "Which is why I'm still alive and well, and you are dying at my feet. What is your point?"

  Lucian didn't answer. The ruckus outside spoke for itself as the sound of hooves grew closer.

  “I apologize, Your Highness," Graham’s voice boomed from outside. "But Lady Celine is currently sleeping. We wouldn't want to interrupt her now, would we? It's bad luck," he said, his tone calm and polite, "A luck so bad, it might cost a kingdom or two."

  Seb's expression darkened, retreating his sword and rushing back to his dy's side.

  Lucian passed by the screen and stood rooted in pce, the entrance just a step away from him, “...”

  Celine's eyes were closed, but her hands moved, sending Seb a signal to go outside and deal with the Crown Prince. She was awake, and had been awake for some time now, Lucian realized.

  She made the same mistake as him, revealing her true nature instead of continuing the role of the victim. But what was the point in being honest with each other when neither of them had any intention of being nice or merciful?

  She had sent her people away and was all alone now, causing his legs to carry him toward her.

  Her hand untied the handkerchief around her neck, raising it in his direction, revealing the purple and green bruises that had formed underneath, "If you want to bme me for shooting you, be my guest. Your gunshot against my bruises, which proof would they believe more?"

  Did she think he wanted to ruin her reputation further? To destroy her life?

  He caught the handkerchief in his hand and tied it back around her neck, "Do you think that low of me?"

  "I think lowly of everyone. It's only a matter of degree."

  “...” Lucian tied the knot too tight, and her hand came up to loosen it, creating a small gap. She didn't look scared, she didn't look worried. She wasn't even surprised by his actions, expecting the worst out of everyone, even out of him.

  He held onto her hands, guiding them to the knot he had created and tying it again, much gentler this time.

  His thumb caressed her knuckles as he did, trying to ease the tension in her hands. They were stiff, as if waiting for the next drop, for the next act of cruelty and betrayal to unfold.

  "Rex, it's just the payment for some of your emotional bor, Lady Rochefort," he said, curling her own fingers around her neck for her to gain sembnce of control, "We both know I can't afford to pay you the amount you deserve," he bent down, his body wincing in protest, but he refused to let it stop him.

  He pulled out the list she wrote out of his right boot, giving it a quick read. He then began to tear the evidence into smaller pieces, tossing them into the brazier by her bed. The scraps curled and bckened upon contact with the embers, glowing briefly before crumbling to ash.

  “Shall we start with holding hands?” He asked, rubbing his palms together over the heat. He then reached for her hands, enclosing them in his, sharing the warmth that still clung to his skin.

  "It seems like whips and bullets make you more generous than your usual self, Lord Arclight," she said, continuing her beauty sleep, her eyes firmly shut, "I should keep that in mind, for next time."

  Goosebumps prickled Lucian's skin at her words, and he tried to shake the feeling off, his hands squeezing her harder, "Well, look at yourself. So determined, so willing to suffer. How could I not feel generous?”

  His eyes lingered on her neck, “Would a quick peck on those bruises suffice? To go so far for me as to let yourself get hurt, my heart is fluttering with gratitude. I can only hope to pay you back with a simir sacrifice on my part."

  She didn't react. His words were like air, blowing past her without leaving a single mark. The more he tried to break through, the more impenetrable her armor seemed to grow.

  He listened to her quiet snores. She didn't open her eyes for even a second. It looked like taking a rest became her top priority and the rest of the world could wait.

  He tugged at her hands, his lips hovering above her neck, tickling her with his breath.

  No matter how much he pyed hard to get, he always thrived under her gaze, and withered under her neglect.

  They used to be like twin fmes, dancing to the same rhythm, moving and swaying together, as one.

  He was hard to handle, and hard to care for, but she made it look easy. His neeedy nature was met with her indulgence. His controlling nature was met with her willingness.

  And the moment he realized that his own desires were mirroring hers, his heart couldn't stop pounding, couldn't stop racing, couldn't stop falling.

  He didn't know what happened. One minute they were together, and the next, he was all alone, with no expnation, no reason, and no closure.

  Without warning, his tongue dragged harshly across the bruise on her neck. He licked his way up to her jaw, stopping just below her ear, "How far did you let him go, Lady Rochefort?"

  "As far as it was needed," she replied.

  "You should have made him fall for you instead, so you could have had his head for a trophy and his heart for a pything,” he hissed quietly, his tongue tracing her skin, "Why hold back? Did your pretty brain get poisoned by my flowery words? Am I such a bad influence, hm?”

  He felt her body twitch as her fingers curled inside his grip. Celine's eyes were squeezed shut, waiting for the bite, for the sharp pain to pierce her flesh.

  His pain, her fear — it thickened the space between them, choking everything else out.

  Lucian's bored, pain-filled breaths made her stomach churn instead of burn.

  Celine's lifeless responses made his sickness surge; each breath a battle.

  The heat wasn't rising, the desire wasn't pooling. The closeness didn't bring back the passion, or the longing, or the lust. It only brought resentment. Pure, almost childlike, resentment.

  "If you die, I'll kill you," she whispered.

  "You'd kill me twice?" he asked, his breath coming a little steadier, as if the simple weight of her attention was enough to lift the pressure in the air.

  "Thrice, if you keep licking me like a wronged dog."

  "It's called forepy, my dy," he said with a smile, licking her bruises deliberately slower, "It's supposed to make you feel good, not scared."

  "You know what would make me feel good? You, not bleeding all over my dress again."

  "Are you worried about me?"

  "I'm not keen on having a corpse lying next to me,” she said.

  "And here I was thinking we were going to share a coffin."

  "I would rather share a bed, not a coffin." She turned her back and moved to the side, making some space for him, "Lie down and close your eyes. It's too early for us to die. Wasting energy on useless arguments is unproductive. Save it for ter, when our lives are not at stake."

  It sounded more like an order than an invitation, and Lucian held a different opinion.

  He thought it was a waste to sleep away the night in silence, to not say anything, to not make her react.

  This was the perfect opportunity to get under her skin, to get inside her head, and to leave a mark, even a small one.

  "As long as we agree on the coffin thing," he couldn’t help but taunt, sitting beside her, "We can haunt our children and grandchildren together. How does that sound?"

  "..."

  “...”

  “...”

  “...”

  Lucian coughed, clearing his throat awkwardly, "Fine, I'll let you think about it."

  He slowly lowered his head next to hers, the soft pillow welcoming his aching body.

  ╔═══ Author's note ════╗

  Ah, I can't get enough of these two. _(:3 」∠)_

  Have I ever mentioned somewhere that this novel is YANDERExYANDERE? |_?)

  Well, I think it became quite obvious at this point? ヾ(?|

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