Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMFQD7KTDVGW3QPTGQHH2S

The door to Eva's flat swung open with a protesting creak, and there she stood, Aurora Carter, framed in the doorway with the late-afternoon sun casting a halo around her straight, shoulder-length black hair. Her bright blue eyes widened for a fraction of a second, betraying her surprise at seeing Lucien Moreau on the other side. "Lucien," she said, the sound of his name on her lips a mixture of fondness and wariness. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?" Her voice was steady, but he could sense the undercurrent of tension. Lucien leaned casually against the doorframe, his tailored charcoal suit immaculate as always, the ivory handle of his cane catching the sunlight. His heterochromatic eyes, one amber, one black, held her gaze. "I was in the area," he replied, his French-accented English sending an involuntary shiver down her spine—a fact she hoped her composed exterior concealed. Rory stepped aside, the gesture an unspoken invitation to enter. As he crossed the threshold, the scent of old books and the faint musk of incense enveloped him. The flat was just as he remembered: walls lined with shelves of arcane texts, stacks of parchment and research notes on every available surface, and Ptolemy, Eva's tabby cat, curled up on a pile of scrolls. "Eva's not here," Rory informed him, closing the door and engaging the three deadbolts with practiced ease. The sound of metal sliding into place echoed in the room, a stark reminder of the barriers she'd erected between them. "I'm not here for Eva," Lucien said, his voice dropping to a lower register as he watched Rory move about the room. She was as captivating as ever, her movements fluid and graceful, her cool-headed intelligence evident in the calculating glance she cast his way. Rory turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest—a defensive posture he knew all too well. "Then to what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked, her eyes flitting briefly to the crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist, a silent testament to the life she'd left behind. Lucien took a step closer, the air between them charged with a history that was as passionate as it was tumultuous. "I came to see you, Rory," he confessed, his voice smooth as silk. "We have unfinished business." Her breath hitched slightly, the only outward sign of her inner turmoil. "I thought we agreed it was best to keep our distance," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Perhaps," he conceded, "but distance has a way of magnifying the important things we leave unsaid." Lucien reached out, his fingers brushing against a stray lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. The brief contact sent a jolt through them both. "I've missed you, Aurora." Rory's resolve wavered, her defenses crumbling under the weight of her own longing. She'd be lying to herself if she said she hadn't missed him too—missed the way he looked at her as though she were the only person in the world, missed the thrill of their exhilarating conversations that could stretch into the early hours of the morning. But she'd also missed the way he could shut her out completely, a skill he'd learned from his demon father. "Lucien," she began, her voice laced with a mix of regret and resolve, "we can't keep doing this to ourselves." He took another step closer, close enough now that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Why not?" he challenged, his gaze intense. "Life is short, and the moments that take our breath away are fleeting. Why should we deny ourselves happiness simply because it's complicated?" Rory's heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She knew he was right; their connection was undeniable, a force of nature that refused to be ignored. But she also knew the risks involved, the potential for heartache and pain. As if sensing her inner conflict, Lucien softened his approach. "I'm not asking for forever, Rory," he said gently. "Just for now. Let's not waste the time we have worrying about what comes next." She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she weighed her options. When she opened them again, there was a newfound determination in her gaze. "Alright, Lucien," she said, her voice firm. "Just for now." A slow smile spread across his face, transforming it from one of a handsome, enigmatic stranger to one of the man she'd fallen for against all better judgment. He reached for her, and this time, she didn't pull away. Their lips met in a kiss that was both a reunion and a new beginning, a fiery merging of two souls that had been drawn together across time and space. It was a kiss that spoke of shared secrets and stolen moments, of laughter and tears, of passion and pain. As they pulled apart, breathless and slightly dazed, Rory knew that she was taking a leap of faith—one that could either lead to ecstasy or heartbreak. But as she looked into Lucien's unique eyes, she realized that some risks were worth taking. With a newfound sense of resolve, she took his hand and led him deeper into the flat, past the stacks of books and scrolls, past Ptolemy who regarded them with sleepy indifference, and into the bedroom where the curtains were drawn against the encroaching evening. There, in the dim light, they rediscovered each other, their bodies moving in a dance as old as time. They were two souls caught in the ebb and flow of fate, their connection a testament to the power of attraction and the resilience of the human heart. As night fell over Eva's flat on Brick Lane, Aurora Carter and Lucien Moreau found themselves lost in each other, their reunion a poignant reminder that love—in all its complexity and beauty—is worth fighting for, even if it's just for now.