I woke up gasping, throat tight, body trembling. Not from cold, but from something deeper. A fire still burned inside me, left behind by his touch, his voice, the promise in his eyes.
I was lying on the floor. Alone.
The apartment was dim, bathed in gray morning light. For a moment, I couldn't move. My fingers were clenched around the pen. The diary lay open beside me, its pages blank-but I knew better.
It was never truly blank. It waited. It watched. It remembered.
The last thing I recalled was Lucian's voice calling to me in the dark, his hands on my skin, the diary erupting with burning lines. Then… nothing. A collapse inward. A freefall.
I sat up slowly. My whole body ached like I'd lived a hundred lives in my sleep. Maybe I had.
A soft knock startled me.
Not at the door.
At the window.
I turned, heart racing.
Lucian stood outside. Barefoot on the fire escape, shirt soaked from rain that hadn't started yet. His eyes glowed in the dimness. Green. Unwavering.
I opened the window, but before I could speak, he was already stepping in. His presence swallowed the room. He didn't speak. Didn't explain. Just looked at me like he feared I might vanish again.
-You fainted -he said finally, his voice rough.
-I remember fire. And voices.
He stepped closer.
-Fragments. Past lives bleed when your words open too wide.
I looked at the diary.
-I didn't write anything last night. At least… I don't remember.
Lucian reached out, brushing his fingers over my cheek. His touch grounded me. Still possessive. Still electric.
-You wrote me into your soul, Emma. You don't need ink anymore.
And then I felt it. A heat deep in my belly. A pull toward him I couldn't fight. But there was something else, too.
Hunger.
Not just mine. His.
-You're trembling -he whispered, his breath against my neck.
-I don't know if it's fear or want.
-They both burn the same. But I know which one I prefer.
His lips dropped to my collarbone, just a ghost of a touch, yet it set my skin ablaze. He held my face in both hands and made me meet his eyes. They were a storm waiting to break.
-You called me again. Do you know what that means?
-That I missed you?
-That the door opened wider. I'm stronger. More real. But so are the ones who listen when you write.
His hand slid to my waist, pulling me firmly against him. His body was tense, hungry, and he wasn't hiding it.
-No one else will touch you, Emma. Never again. You created me. You're mine. Even if you don't remember it yet.
I shivered. His mouth met mine with a hunger that nearly dropped me to my knees. He kissed me like he needed to consume me, and I melted into it. My hands clutched his soaked shirt, feeling his chest, his rapid breath.
He lifted me effortlessly, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He carried me to the desk and sat me on top of the open diary. My hips moved instinctively toward his. The fabric between us was torture.
-You're burning for me -he growled, nose brushing mine.
-Yes -I whispered, barely aware of what I was saying.
His hand slid up my thigh, slow, deliberate. He stopped just short of where I needed him most. I arched toward him, trembling. But he didn't move. He stared at me.
-Say you need me.
-I need you.
-More.
-I need you, Lucian. I can't… I don't want to be without you.
His mouth moved down to my chest. Not gentle. Starving. His teeth, his tongue, his lips left me marked, gasping, undone. His other handheld me firm like he'd never let go.
And just as I was about to fall apart, when his hand moved lower, and my fingers clawed at his back-
The diary slammed shut.
Lucian pulled back instantly. The room dropped into an unnatural cold. The air turned heavy. Dark.
-We're not alone.
We looked at the desk.
The diary trembled.
Words burned themselves into the cover:
You are not the only one who remembers.
A second later, the doorknob twisted.
Lucian moved like a predator. He grabbed a knife from my kitchen with brutal precision. Not out of fear.
Out of rage.
-Stay behind me -he growled.
But I stepped forward. Because that voice… that door… they weren't new to me.
They didn't belong to Lucian.
They belonged to someone else I had written.
Someone who had come to claim me too.