AI The door swung inward with a creak that echoed through the narrow hallway, revealing Lucien Moreau framed in the dim glow of the Brick Lane streetlamp. Rain slicked his platinum hair, droplets tracing paths down his heterochromatic eyes—one amber, one black—fixing on her with that unreadable intensity she'd tried to forget. His tailored charcoal suit clung to his frame, damp from the downpour, and he leaned on his ivory-handled cane, the one that hid secrets sharper than any blade.
Rory froze, her hand still gripping the knob. The scent of curry from the shop below mixed with the wet night air, but all she smelled was him—sandalwood and smoke, a reminder of nights she'd buried deep.
"Lucien." Her voice came out flat, edged with the steel she'd forged after their last goodbye.
He tilted his head, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, though his eyes betrayed the storm brewing. Water dripped from his cuff onto the worn doormat.
"Aurora." He pronounced her name like a caress, drawing out the syllables in that Marseille accent that once melted her defenses. "Or should I say Rory? You always preferred the nickname when things got... intimate."
She stepped back, but didn't close the door. Not yet. The flat's clutter pressed in behind her—stacks of Eva's books teetering on every surface, scrolls unrolled across the coffee table like forgotten promises. Ptolemy, the tabby cat, wound around her ankles, oblivious to the tension thickening the air.
"What are you doing here?" She crossed her arms, hiding the small crescent scar on her left wrist, the one he'd traced with his fingers once, in a different life.
He didn't move forward, respecting the invisible line she'd drawn. His cane tapped once against the threshold, a soft, deliberate sound. "Unfinished business. The kind that doesn't vanish just because you walk away."
Her pulse quickened, memories flooding back unbidden. The way he'd shown up in her life after Evan, pulling strings in London's shadows to keep her safe. Attraction had sparked fast—his sharp wit matching her out-of-the-box thinking, stolen kisses in hidden corners of supernatural dens. But then the hurt: his demonic heritage rearing up, secrets he'd kept about deals in Avaros, leaving her questioning if any of it was real. She'd bolted, things left unsaid, a messy tangle of desire and betrayal.
"Unfinished?" She laughed, short and bitter, stepping aside just enough to let him in if he dared. Rain pelted the window behind her, a relentless drum. "You mean the part where you vanished for weeks, chasing shadows in Marseille, and I woke up to an empty bed with no explanation?"
He entered then, his presence filling the cramped space like smoke. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing them in with the weight of what they'd left behind. Ptolemy hissed once, then darted under the couch, tail flicking.
"Explanations aren't my forte." He set his cane against the wall, shedding his wet jacket with precise movements, revealing the crisp white shirt underneath, now translucent in spots from the rain. His eyes never left hers. "But you knew that when you let me in the first time."
She turned away, busying herself with a stack of Eva's notes on the table, fingers brushing faded ink. The flat felt smaller with him here, bookshelves looming like witnesses to their history. "Eva's out. If you're here for her research, it'll have to wait."
"Not Eva." He moved closer, his steps silent on the threadbare rug. Heat radiated from him, cutting through the chill she'd carried since their parting. "You. Always you."
Her breath caught. She faced him, bright blue eyes locking onto his mismatched gaze. The attraction surged back, electric , pulling at the edges of the hurt. "Don't. We ended this. Or did you forget the fight? The one where you admitted your father's realm calls louder than anything here?"
His jaw tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his features before he masked it. He reached out, fingers hovering near her shoulder-length black hair, not quite touching . "I remember every word. Especially the ones you didn't say. Like how you looked at me that night, Rory—like I was the monster you always feared I'd be."
She swallowed hard, the unsaid truths bubbling up. Hurt had built walls, but his nearness chipped at them. "You were. Are. Half-demon, fixer of the underworld. What did you expect? I fled one cage in Cardiff, I wasn't about to lock myself in another."
He closed the distance, his hand finally brushing her arm, sending sparks through her skin. The room's clutter faded, leaving just them, the rain a distant roar. "And yet here I am, unannounced, because some cages are worth breaking into."
Her heart hammered. She didn't pull away. Instead, she gripped his shirt, the damp fabric cool under her fingers. "Why now? After all this time?"
His amber eye softened, the black one deepening like an abyss. He leaned in, breath warm against her ear. "A lead on Evan surfaced. He's circling back, sniffing around London. I couldn't let that touch you without warning."
She shoved him back a step, anger flaring hot alongside the pull. Evan—the abusive scar from her past, the reason she'd run to Eva's pleas and this chaotic life. "You think I need your protection? I'm not that girl anymore."
"No." He caught her wrist gently , thumb grazing the crescent scar, a touch that ignited old flames. "You're stronger. Sharper. But strength doesn't mean facing it alone."
She twisted free, but lingered close, their bodies inches apart. The air crackled with tension , history weaving through the hurt like threads in a tapestry . Attraction hummed, undeniable, stirring the things left unsaid—the way she'd missed his voice wrapping around her name, his quick mind challenging hers in the dead of night.
"Then say it." Her voice dropped, challenging . "What you couldn't before. Why you really left."
He hesitated, rain streaking the window like tears. His hand found her waist, pulling her flush against him, the cane forgotten against the wall. "Because loving you meant risking everything. My world devours weakness, Rory. And you... you make me weak."
The admission hung between them, raw and exposed. She searched his face, the slicked-back hair now tousled from the rain, eyes holding storms of their own. Hurt twisted inside her, but so did want, the kind that had burned bright before crashing.
"Weak?" She pressed her palm to his chest, feeling his heartbeat race under the shirt. "Or human?"
His laugh rumbled low, genuine, cutting through the heaviness. He cupped her face, tilting it up. "Both. Always both with you."
Their lips met then, fierce and unyielding, a collision of past and present. She tasted rain and regret on him, her hands tangling in his hair as he backed her against the bookshelf. Books shifted, a scroll tumbling to the floor, but neither cared. The kiss deepened, tongues dancing in a rhythm they'd perfected months ago, before the complications tore them apart.
He broke away first, forehead resting against hers, breath ragged. "I didn't come here just for Evan. I came because the unsaid words have been choking me."
She traced his jaw, fingers lingering on the stubble there. "Then spit them out."
"You terrify me." His voice roughened, hands sliding down her sides . "Not because of what you are, but what you make me feel. Human. Alive. Things my father's blood tries to bury."
Her own confessions clawed up. The hurt of his absence, the attraction that never faded, the words she'd swallowed to protect herself. "I waited, you know. After you left. Days turned to weeks. I thought maybe you'd come back, explain the demons pulling you away."
He pulled her closer, their bodies aligning in the familiar way that sent heat pooling low. Ptolemy emerged from under the couch, meowing indignantly, but they ignored him. "I should have. But pride's a demon all its own."
She kissed him again, slower this time, exploring the contours of his mouth, the heterochromatic eyes closing as he surrendered. The flat's chaos mirrored their reunion—messy, overflowing, impossible to contain. Rain hammered harder outside, wind rattling the panes.
"Stay." The word escaped her before she could reel it in, laced with the vulnerability she'd hidden.
His fingers wove through her straight black hair, tugging gently . "For tonight? Or longer?"
She didn't answer with words. Instead, she led him toward the bedroom, stepping over scattered notes and books, the three deadbolts on the front door a forgotten barrier now. His cane clattered as he followed, shedding the last of his reservations.
In the dim light of Eva's bedroom, cluttered with more research and a narrow bed, they shed clothes like old skins. His shirt hit the floor, revealing the lean muscles she'd memorized. She traced the lines of his body, fingers finding scars she hadn't known before—marks from his demonic heritage, perhaps.
"You've changed." He murmured against her neck, lips brushing skin as he lifted her shirt over her head.
"Survival does that." She arched into his touch, nails digging into his back.
They fell onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and rediscovered heat. His hands explored her with the precision of a man who'd never forgotten, eliciting gasps that filled the room. She flipped them, straddling him, taking control in a way that made his black eye flash with desire .
"Slow down," he growled, but his grip on her hips urged her on.
"No." She rocked against him, building the rhythm, chasing the edge where hurt met healing.
Time blurred, the rain a constant backdrop to their reunion. Whispers of apologies mingled with moans, unsaid things finally spilling out in fragments—how she'd dreamed of him during lonely deliveries for Yu-Fei Cheung, how he'd watched over her from afar, pulling strings to keep Evan at bay.
Later, as they lay entwined, sweat cooling on their skin, Ptolemy jumped onto the bed, curling at their feet. Lucien's arm draped over her waist, his breath steady against her shoulder.
"This doesn't fix everything." She stared at the ceiling, the weight of their history settling back in.
"I know." His fingers traced patterns on her skin, lazy and content. "But it's a start."
She turned to face him, bright blue eyes meeting his mismatched ones. The attraction burned steady now, tempered by the hurt they'd aired. Things left unsaid lingered, but lighter, like shadows retreating at dawn.
Outside, the rain eased, leaving silence in its wake.