Alina’s POV
His muscles jerked under my touch, a sharp hiss escaping his teeth the mont the ointnt hit the raw skin of his back.
"I’m sorry," I whispered, my hand trembling slightly. "I don’t know what ca over . I shouldn’t have gone that far. I didn’t an to—"
"Hey." He turned, cutting off by pressing a cool finger against my lips. A slow, bruising smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I told you already. Don’t apologize for this. I asked for it. I wanted this from you."
I looked down at the jar in my hands, my chest tightening. "But why? Why do you crave the pain? It can’t just be... for pleasure."
His gaze dropped, his shoulders hunching as he looked at the floor. "Since I was a boy, violence was the only language I was taught. Pain is just how I know I’m alive."
"Do you... do this with the others?" I asked, the question tasting bitter.
"No. Never." He turned back to , his eyes searching mine with a sudden intensity. "I’ve never let anyone else leave a mark on . Only you."
"Why?"
"You’re my mate," he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly low. "You were made for . It’s only right that I submit to you."
I felt a ghost of a mory pull at . "I was mated to soone else once. He was never submissive."
The warmth drained from his face. His expression went flinty and cold. "We aren’t the sa," he snapped. "He’s old news, Alina. You don’t need to think about him anymore."
I nodded quickly, sensing the shift in the air. "Let finish."
He turned his back to again, silent as I smoothed the rest of the cream over the angry red welts. Once the skin was glistening and coated, I capped the jar. "We’re done."
"Alright. I should get going," he said, reaching for his shirt.
"No."
He paused, one arm halfway through a sleeve, and looked at with wide, shocked eyes.
"Sleep here tonight," I said, my heart drumming against my ribs. "It’s late, and you’re hurt. I don’t want you out there like this."
A mix of confusion and pure radiator-heat happiness spread across his face.
"The bed is a ss, though. Let change the sheets." I moved quickly, stripping the crumpled linen and snapping fresh, clean fabric over the mattress. I lit a sandalwood candle and misted the air with perfu until the scent of sweat and copper was replaced by sothing soft and inviting.
He watched work, hovering by the edge of the fra. "Are we... sharing the bed?"
I let out a small, amused huff. "Oh, so you’re suddenly modest? We’ve seen every inch of each other tonight. Of course we’re sharing the bed."
I crawled under the covers, and after a mont of hesitation, he slid in beside . We lay facing each other, the candlelight dancing in the dark circles of his pupils. He reached out, his calloused thumb tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
He looked devastatingly handso in the dim light—softer than I’d ever seen him. I found myself staring a second too long before I forced myself to blink and look away, trying to quiet the thoughts racing through my head.
"Are you horny again?" he teased, his voice vibrating against the pillow.
"No!" I snapped, though I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I rolled over, putting my back to him. His low, deep chuckle followed into the silence, and I squeezed my eyes shut, determined to sleep.
The peace lasted only a second before Leo’s sharp, rhythmic wail pierced through the baby monitor. My eyes snapped open, and I threw back the covers.
"Baby Leo needs ," I said, my gaze eting Lucian’s for a brief, breathless mont. I didn’t wait for a response. I hurried down the hall to the nursery. Since Stella had the day off, the house felt unusually quiet—except for the screams of a very hungry infant.
"Why is my baby crying?" I cooed, lifting Leo from the crib. He was a bundle of flailing limbs and tears. I bounced him against my shoulder, hurrying into the kitchen to prepare a bottle. As I fumbled with the milk, trying to get the temperature right, Leo’s cries reached a frantic, glass-shattering pitch.
"Give him to ."
Lucian stood in the doorway, his silhouette blocking the light from the hall. He reached out, his large hands looking massive compared to the small child. Without a second thought, I handed Leo over.
As I focused on heating the milk, the kitchen suddenly went silent. I turned around, stunned. The screaming had stopped. Lucian was cradling Leo close to his chest, his face transford as he spoke in a ridiculous, high-pitched baby voice. Leo wasn’t just quiet—he was kicking his legs and giggling.
"You know, you look just like ," Lucian murmured, booping the baby’s nose. "I was just as stubborn with my mother. Never let her get a wink of sleep."
Leo let out a bubbly laugh, clutching at Lucian’s finger. I tested the milk on my wrist; it was perfect.
"Give him here," I said, reaching for my son. But the mont Leo was back in my arms, his face crumpled and the wailing started all over again.
"Hey! Don’t be naughty," I scolded gently, feeling defeated.
"Give him back," Lucian said with a knowing smirk. I handed him over, and like magic, the tears vanished instantly.
"No fair. I’m the mother!" I complained, though I couldn’t help but smile as Leo’s giggles intensified.
"Give the bottle. I’ll feed him," Lucian offered. I followed them into the living room, watching as he settled onto the couch.
I leaned against the doorfra, srized. This was a side of him the world never saw. In this light, he didn’t look like the Rogue terrorizing the country; he looked gentle, even innocent. His gaze drifted up to mine, and the warmth in his eyes made my heart skip. I smiled back, staying there until Leo’s eyelids grew heavy and finally stayed shut.
We moved like a team, sneaking back into the nursery to tuck Leo in before retreating to our own room. We lay side by side in the dark, the scent of the sandalwood candle still lingering.
"Lucian... I don’t think you’re a bad person," I said quietly. The words felt heavy in the air. "I an, you aren’t nearly as bad as people say."
He went still, clearly caught off guard. Then, a slow smirk played on his lips. "I’ll take that as a complint." His expression shifted, becoming intensely serious as he looked at . "You are the best thing that has ever happened to , Alina."
I felt a flutter in my chest. "Goodnight," I whispered, turning away so he couldn’t see the effect he had on .
As I drifted off, a small, nagging fear remained: I hope you don’t turn out to be a mistake.
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