AI Aurora, or Rory as she was known to friends, was curled up on the couch of her friend Eva's cramped but cozy flat, nose buried in a leather-bound book of occult lore. Ptolemy, Eva's fluffy tabby, sprawled across her lap, contentedly kneading his paws into her thighs.
Three sharp raps at the door made Rory jump, nearly sending Ptolemy scampering off in a fury. She set the curious text aside and went to answer it, unused to visitors. Shoving aside broadsheets pinned to the aged door, she undid the rattling deadbolts and opened it, her face a picture of caution indicating that her mind was in the past.
Lucien Moreau stood there, scars on his face still, impeccable even after his long flight from Paris. She hadn't seen him in a year, not since their toxic final argument in a boutique hotel room, during which they used words like weapons, each landing puppet punches, adrenaline crescendoing like a symphony as the night strengthens.
The change in him stunned her: in place of his usual smirk, his face was a picture of earnestness. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice, "What are you doing here, Lucien?" Her voice emerged as cold had it landed on a blade of frost.
Lucien's mismatched eyes searched her face, one gold, one onyx. The evening breeze ruffled his slicked-back platinum hair. "Rory. I need your help, What he said." He paused, ran a hand through his hair, looked away. "I shouldn't have left the way I did, a year ago. I've missed you. I've thought about you every damn day."
Rory's heart pounded. She wanted to slap him, hug him, weep with relief. She couldn't look at him, not without reopening too many wounds. "You've got some nerve showing up here," she hissed. "You left me, remember? You chose your goddamn demon business over us." Her gaze cut to him, quick as a knife. "And now you need my help?"
Lucien sighed, leaning against the doorframe. His tailored charcoal suit strained against his broad shoulders. "Listen, I know I fucked up. Big time. But I'm trying to make things right now. I showed up because I'm in deep, and you're the only one I can trust to get me out of this shit."
"Trust you?" Rory scoffed, incredulous . "Why would I ever trust you again after what you did? No, Lucien, if you're in trouble, you got yourself into it, you get yourself out of it. I won't have you dragging me into your schemes again." She made to close the door, but Lucien's hand shot out, catching it.
"I'm not here for me, Rory. I'm here to protect you. I have info. People are after you. People I have to reveal myself to. Even after our last blowout, I still want to always protect you. You can trust me this much." His voice was soft, cajoling . "Please, just hear me out. I'll explain everything. I've changed, Rory. I'm not the man I was a year ago."
Rory's blue eyes narrowed as she studied him, torn. Part of her wanted to throw him out and slam the door. But something in his ombre eyes gave her pause.
She stepped back slowly . "Fine. You've got five minutes to talk. But if I don't like what you have to say, you're out of here. For good this time."
Lucien nodded, slipping past her into the flat, briefcase and the curry smells within. Rory watched him, nails digging into her palms, as he fired up his tale, weaving a story of serpentine supernaturals, Viennese vixens, and a swirling tapestry that crossed borders across the English channel. Who should believe him? He was lying before. Still, something in his deception looked like intent .
Hours passed like minutes as night fell over Brick Lane. The tabby curled up on the couch, snoring softly . Aurora and Lucien talked until their voices were hoarse, poring over maps and diagrams splashed across the coffee table, hands brushing, electricity crackling between them.
At a lull in their discussion, Lucien reached out, fingers brushing a lock of Aurora's silky black hair. She stiffened, then melted into his touch. His hand drifted down to cup her cheek, thumb stroking her lower lip.
"I've missed this," he murmured. "I've missed you." Before she could respond, he pulled her into a kiss, hungry and desperate. She tasted the caffeine and cigarettes on his tongue, felt the scratch of his stubble against her chin. It was a kiss that spoke of a year's worth of pent-up longing and regret.
He walked her backwards until her knees hit the arm of the couch. She tumbled onto it, Lucien following, pinning her down with his lean, hard body. His hands roamed her curves, slipping under her shirt to caress the warm skin beneath. She gasped as he trailed kisses down her neck, tongue and teeth niggling nearly open.
"Yes," he groaned against her skin. "I want you, Rory. I never stopped wanting you." He peeled her shirt up and off, tossing it aside. His icy gold eyes devoured her, drinking in every inch of her pale flesh laid bare. "You're a vision, you know that? A fucking angel."
Aurora arched into his touch, head buzzing against the lofty windows. "Lucien," she breathed, voice wrecked . "Please."
He needed no further encouragement. Pressing his mouth to her navel, he kissed a blazing trail down her stomach , unfastening her jeans as he went. She lifted her hips, letting him tug the denim down her thighs, along with her panties. He threw them carelessly over his shoulder, never breaking eye contact.
"Two years," he rasped, spreading her legs wider. "Two fucking years I've imagined these thighs wrapped around me as I make you come undone." He gripped her hips, burying his face between them. His tongue delved deep, teasing that sensitive pearl.
"Yes, yes, yes!" Aurora's head fell back against the couch, fingers digging into Lucien's hair, holding him in place as he lapped and sucked, stoking the flames higher and higher. Her breath hitched, hips bucking against his mouth. She was so close, teetering on the brink—
Lucien stood abruptly, leering down at her splayed naked on the sofa, flushed and panting. Slowly, he undid his belt, sliding it free from the loops. He folded it in half, letting it hang heavy from his fingers.
"What do you say, cher?" he purred, crawling back over her. "Do you think you can handle me bringing you off?" He slithered the belt across her inner thigh, up over her damp center, teasing her intestines. "I seem to remember you liked it rough..."