Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMFM0GZ7ZTGTKEH6MHCRC7

Aurora's hand froze on the last deadbolt when she recognized the silhouette through the warped glass. The distinctive outline of that cane, the tall lean frame — her pulse quickened as memories flooded back. She shouldn't open the door. She really shouldn't. But she did. "Lucien." His name came out steadier than she felt. "What are you doing here?" He stood in the narrow hallway, impeccable as always in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than three months of her delivery job wages. The amber eye caught the fluorescent light differently than the black one, giving him an otherworldly gleam that still made her breath catch. "Bonsoir, Aurora." His accent wrapped around her name like silk. "May I come in?" She should say no. The smart thing would be to shut the door and pretend this was all a dream. Instead, she found herself stepping back, allowing him into Eva's cramped flat. Ptolemy immediately twined between Lucien's legs, the traitor. "Eva's not here," Aurora said, watching him take in the controlled chaos of books and papers covering every surface. "She's at a conference in Edinburgh." "I know." He turned to face her, leaning slightly on his cane. "I came to see you." "How did you even know I was staying here?" A slight smile played at the corner of his mouth. "I'm an information broker, chérie. It's what I do." "Don't." The endearment stung like salt in an old wound. "You lost the right to call me that six months ago." His smile faded. In the dim light of Eva's desk lamp, shadows played across his sharp features. "Is that what you think? That I simply walked away?" "Didn't you?" Aurora crossed her arms, hating how defensive she sounded. "You made it pretty clear where I stood when you took that job from the Crimson Court. The same people who—" She broke off, unconsciously rubbing the crescent scar on her left wrist. "Who tried to hurt you." Lucien's voice was soft, dangerous. "Yes. I remember." "Then why did you do it?" He took a step closer. She held her ground, though every nerve ending sparked with awareness. "Because sometimes, ma belle, the best way to protect someone is from the inside." Aurora's mind raced, putting pieces together. "The Court's collapse last month. The exposure of their trafficking ring. That was you?" "Among others." Another step. She could smell his cologne now, something expensive and French that brought back memories of stolen kisses in shadow-filled corners. "I couldn't tell you. If they'd suspected, if they'd seen any connection between us—" "So you pushed me away instead." The hurt was still there, but something else was rising alongside it – understanding, and with it, a dangerous hope. "I thought I was protecting you." His free hand came up, fingers hovering near her cheek without quite touching. "I didn't expect it to take so long. I didn't expect—" He swallowed. "I didn't expect to miss you quite so much." Aurora's heart hammered against her ribs. "Six months, Lucien. Six months of thinking you'd chosen them over me. Over us." "Never." The word was fierce, almost a growl. This close, she could see the demon blood in him more clearly – the slight glow in his amber eye, the too-sharp edge to his teeth. "I would burn down half of London before I'd truly choose anyone over you." "Only half?" The quip slipped out automatically, a defense against the intensity of his gaze. His laugh was low, rich. "The other half might be useful someday." She shouldn't forgive him this easily. She shouldn't let him back in without making him work for it. But hadn't they both been punished enough? "Next time," she said, reaching up to cup his face, "tell me the truth. I'm not made of glass, Lucien. I can handle knowing things are complicated." He turned his face into her palm, pressing a kiss there that made her shiver. "Next time, I won't leave at all." When he kissed her properly, it felt like coming home. His cane clattered to the floor as he pulled her closer, and somewhere in the background, Ptolemy knocked over a stack of papers. Aurora couldn't bring herself to care. Six months of missing this, of missing him, crashed over her like a wave. They broke apart only when oxygen became a necessity. Lucien rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard. "Stay," she whispered. It wasn't just an invitation for tonight – it was a question about tomorrow, about all the tomorrows after that. His mismatched eyes met hers, full of promises she knew he'd keep this time. "As long as you'll have me, mon coeur." "That might be a very long time." His smile was slow, sweet, and just a little wicked. "I'm counting on it."