Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRBQN0DV4TKDM2ATBSYJHK

The doorbell rang just as Aurora finished tying her hair up in a messy bun. She frowned, not expecting any visitors on a dreary Tuesday evening. Eva had been gone for three days on what she cryptically called "research business," leaving Aurora alone with Ptolemy, who currently glared at her from atop a stack of ancient-looking tomes. "Coming!" she called out, stepping over several piles of books that formed a labyrinth across the cramped living room floor. She pulled back the first deadbolt, then the second, hesitated briefly at the third. A familiar prickle of unease ran down her spine—a sensation she'd developed after moving to London. Aurora peered through the peephole and froze. Her fingers faltered on the lock. Impossible. She blinked hard, convinced her tired mind was playing tricks, but when she looked again, he remained there, as real as the books scattered around her feet. Lucien Moreau stood in the hallway, leaning slightly on his ivory-handled cane, his platinum blond hair immaculate as ever. Even through the distorted fish-eye view, she could make out the severe lines of his charcoal suit, tailored to perfection. Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs as memories flooded back—the gleam in his mismatched eyes when he'd first approached her at Silas's bar, his voice a low purr across her skin as he spoke French into her ear, the bitter argument that had ended everything six weeks ago. Aurora drew in a deep breath and pulled back the final deadbolt. The door opened, and there he stood. Closer now. Real. "Hello, Aurora." His voice carried that same precise, cultured tone, the French accent wrapping around her name like silk. "Lucien." Her voice emerged steadier than she felt. "What are you doing here?" His mismatched eyes—one amber, one black—studied her face. "May I come in? The hallway isn't ideal for conversation." The familiar scent of his cologne—something expensive with hints of sandalwood and something darker she could never identify—drifted toward her. Aurora hesitated, then stepped back, wordlessly inviting him in. Ptolemy hissed from his perch as Lucien entered, his cane tapping softly against the hardwood floor. "Eva's cat still dislikes me, I see." A slight smile curved his lips as he surveyed the chaos of the flat. "Some things never change." Aurora closed the door but didn't replace the bolts. An escape route, if needed. "Eva's not here." "I know." Of course he knew. Lucien Moreau knew everything that happened in London's supernatural underworld. It was his business to know. "You look well," he said, his gaze traveling over her faded Cardiff University sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. Aurora crossed her arms. "Skip the pleasantries, Lucien. Why are you here?" He moved further into the room, navigating the book maze with graceful steps. His fingers trailed over the spine of a leather-bound volume on demonology. "Perhaps I missed you." A harsh laugh escaped her. "Six weeks of silence and now you've decided you miss me?" "I never said the missing began today." His voice remained calm, but something flickered in his eyes. "May I sit?" Without waiting for permission, he cleared a space on the sofa, carefully moving a stack of papers to the floor. He sat and placed his cane across his knees, fingers resting lightly on the ivory handle. Aurora remained standing, keeping the coffee table between them. "You still haven't answered my question." Lucien leaned back, somehow making Eva's sagging sofa look like an expensive chaise lounge. "Eva contacted me. She's investigating something potentially dangerous and thought you might need... protection while she's away." "I don't need your protection." The words came quickly, sharply. "And if Eva wanted me protected, she'd have told me herself." "Would you have accepted my help if she had?" Aurora's silence was answer enough. "The truth is," Lucien continued after a moment, "I volunteered when she mentioned her concerns." Her fingers absently traced the crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist. "I'm handling things fine on my own." "Are you?" His eyes dropped to her nervous movement, then back to her face. "The shadows under your eyes suggest otherwise." "Don't analyze me." Aurora moved to the kitchenette, needing distance. She filled the kettle, keeping her back to him. "Tea?" "Please." The mundane activity gave her hands something to do, her mind something to focus on besides his presence. The kettle rumbled to a boil while she retrieved mugs. "You've been having nightmares again," he said. Not a question. Aurora stilled, then resumed preparing the tea. "How would you know?" "Your left hand trembles slightly. It always does when you haven't been sleeping well." She set his mug down harder than necessary on the coffee table. "Careful. People might think you care." "People might be right." His voice had softened, the cultivated polish giving way to something more raw. Aurora retreated to the armchair opposite him, cradling her own mug. "You made it perfectly clear how you felt six weeks ago." "Did I?" Lucien leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I recall saying many things that night. Some I meant, some I didn't." "You called me reckless, naive—" "You had just broken into the private collection of a known demon summoner without consulting me." "I don't need to consult you about my choices." "You do when those choices could get you killed." His voice remained level, but his fingers tightened on the handle of his cane. "The man whose study you infiltrated has eliminated people for far less." "I got what Eva needed without being caught." "This time." Lucien's mismatched eyes fixed on her. "What about next time? Or the time after that?" Aurora looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "I can take care of myself." "Is that what you're doing? Taking care of yourself?" He gestured around the flat. "Hiding away, running deliveries for Yu-Fei, helping Eva with increasingly dangerous research?" "Not all of us can afford tailored suits and fancy flats in Mayfair." Bitterness crept into her voice. "Some of us have to work for a living." "That's not what I meant, and you know it." Lucien set down his untouched tea. "You're running, Aurora. From your past in Cardiff, from your potential, from—" "From what? You?" She laughed, a hollow sound. "Don't flatter yourself." "From us." The words hung in the air between them. Ptolemy chose that moment to leap from his perch, scattering papers as he darted under the sofa. The sudden movement broke the tension. Aurora exhaled slowly. "There is no 'us,' Lucien. There never really was." "Now who's lying?" He stood, moving toward the window that overlooked Brick Lane. Rain had begun to spatter against the glass. "We had something. Something real." "We had chemistry and convenience." Aurora's voice wavered slightly. "You needed information about Eva's research, and I was... available." Lucien turned, his expression hardening. "Is that what you think? That I pursued you to get to Eva's work?" "Didn't you?" She set down her mug. "Every time we were together, you asked questions about her findings." "I asked because I was concerned." His accent thickened with emotion. "Eva is delving into areas that have gotten people killed. Areas I know intimately because of what I am." The unspoken hung between them—his half-demon heritage, the secret she had discovered by accident and promised never to reveal. "You never trusted me," he continued, softer now. "Not completely." Aurora stood, arms wrapped around herself. "How could I? You deal in secrets and favors. Your entire existence is a web of half-truths." "Not with you." Lucien moved closer, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his amber eye. "Never with you." "Then why did you leave?" The question escaped before she could stop it, raw and vulnerable. "After our fight, why did you just... disappear?" Lucien's hand moved as if to touch her face, then dropped. "Because you asked me to." "I didn't—" "You said, and I quote, 'Get out, Lucien. I don't want to see you again.'" "People say things they don't mean when they're angry." Aurora's voice was barely above a whisper. "Do they?" His eyes searched hers. "What didn't you mean, Aurora?" The distance between them seemed to shrink, the air charged with unspoken words. "I didn't mean..." She swallowed hard. "I didn't mean for you to stay gone." Lucien stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. "I'm here now." "For how long?" She looked up at him, vulnerability and defiance warring in her expression. "Until the next time I do something you don't approve of? Until you get whatever it is you came for?" "I came for you." His voice was low, intimate. "Only you." Before she could respond, his hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing over her lower lip. The touch sent electricity racing through her veins. "I missed you," he murmured. "More than I should have. More than I've ever missed anyone." Aurora's hands came to rest on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath expensive fabric. "I missed you too," she admitted, the words a relief to finally speak aloud. His lips brushed hers, tentative at first, a question rather than a demand. Aurora answered by pressing closer, deepening the kiss, her fingers sliding up to tangle in his perfectly styled hair. When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Lucien rested his forehead against hers. "We need to talk. Really talk. About everything." "I know." Aurora nodded slightly. "But not tonight." Tonight was for healing the wounds they'd inflicted on each other. Tomorrow would be time enough for truths.