CHAPTER 19: A GAME FOR TWO

Lucien’s Pov

Her tears burned against my shirt, quiet and helpless. Each drop felt like it seared into me, igniting something dark that had been waiting for permission to surface.

She didn’t know it yet, but that look in Raphael’s eyes when his hand was around her throat changed everything for me.

The bastard had crossed the line.

I tilted her chin up so she’d meet my gaze. Her eyes were swollen, her lashes wet, but there was still a faint, flickering fire there, alive.

"You still want to play fair?" I asked softly.

She flinched at my tone; half-mockery, half-concern and looked away.

"I don’t want to play at all."

I leaned closer. "Then you’ll lose."

Her lips parted to protest, but I cut her off. "You can’t fight people like Raphael and Amelia with dignity. You’ll die trying."

Her brows drew together. "And what are you suggesting? That I become like them?"

"No." I smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach my eyes. "I’m saying you should use me."

She went still. I could almost hear her heartbeat falter.

"I meant what I said back there. Let’s make this fake relationship real, Braelyn."

Her disbelief was almost amusing. "You’re insane," she breathed, pushing away from me, but I caught her wrist before she could move farther.

"Maybe," I murmured. "But insanity gets results."

Her pulse throbbed under my fingers. "I’m not doing this for revenge. I’m not like you."

I chuckled, a low sound that made her spine stiffen. "You already are. You just don’t see it yet."

I released her wrist and leaned back, watching her wrestle with her conscience. "You’re still waiting for Raphael to realise what he’s lost. That’s the problem. You want justice, but you also want him to regret you. Those are two different things."

Her silence was answer enough.

"Let me help you," I said, softer now. "We’ll make them choke on what they did to you. A show they’ll never forget."

She shook her head. "You’re talking about manipulation and lies. I don’t want—"

"Want what?" I interrupted. "To win?"

Her throat tightened. "To lose myself," she struggled to say, then shook her head, still stubborn to her principle. "That’s not what I want..."

I didn’t let her finish. I couldn’t.

I caught her chin between my fingers, forcing her eyes back to mine. "Then tell me what you do want, Braelyn," I whispered. "Because I’ve watched you bleed for a man who never even noticed he was holding the knife."

Her breath hitched. I saw it in her eyes, the war between fear and something else she couldn’t name.

"Lucien, stop," she said quietly like a silent plea

I should have. I didn’t.

My thumb brushed the edge of her bottom lip, slow, testing, deliberate. She froze. My self-control snapped like a stretched wire.

"You tell me to stop," I murmured, my voice close enough that she could feel it. "But you don’t move."

Her lips parted again, breath uneven. "This isn’t right."

"I don’t care."

Before she could argue, I closed the space between us.

The kiss started soft, a spur-of-the-moment suspension between resistance and surrender. His lips tasted salty from all the tears she had shed.

Cold but still addictive, it still had the feel that was hard to resist. A slow poison I will gladly drink.

It was meant to shut her, let her listen to her mind and stop following her broken heart but I couldn’t stop.

The longer it lasted, the less either of us remembered where the line was. Her fingers pushed weakly at my chest once, then curled into the fabric of my coat instead. I felt her tremble, not from fear this time but from the weight of it, the tension, the heat, the years of restraint snapping all at once.

My hands moved around her, slow and possessive. Tracing the silky feel of her thighs, enjoying how she trembled from the touch like it was electric.

I could feel the sharp rhythm of her heartbeat through her dress, the way her breath caught every time I deepened the kiss. A moan slipped out from her lips. We both froze, and realisation hit her, and she shoved me away.

When she finally tore her mouth away, her chest was rising fast, her lips swollen. She stared at me, wide-eyed, shocked by her own reaction.

"What was that?" she breathed out, voice unsteady.

"The truth," I said simply.

She scoffed softly, a bitter laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. "You think a kiss can change my mind?"

My lips twitched, not in amusement but challenge. "It’s not to change your mind," I said, my voice low and deliberate, "it’s to clear your doubt."

"Doubt?" she repeated, her tone unsteady.

"Yes," I murmured, leaning closer until the air between us thinned. "You keep pretending this isn’t real, that you don’t feel it. So let’s stop pretending for once."

Her breath hitched, and I saw the conflict flicker behind her eyes something dangerously close to want.

"Lucien," she warned, her tone wavering, "don’t."

"I’m asking you," I whispered, my words brushing her lips, "not forcing you."

Her defiance was beautiful. It made me forget who I was supposed to be.

For a heartbeat, she didn’t move. Then I felt her exhale tremble between us. That was all the permission I needed.

My hand slid to her jaw, thumb tracing the edge of her lips before I caught her mouth with mine....slow, deliberate, not gentle. I didn’t kiss her to comfort her; I kissed her to remind her she was alive. This time it was more fierce than the first one.

That might have been a mistake but this wasn’t.

She tried pushing at my chest once, weakly scared to be consumed. "Stop..." she whispered against my lips, but the word lost its shape as I deepened the kiss.

My other hand found her waist, drawing her closer until there was no space left between us. She tensed, tried to fight it, but I could feel her resolve unravelling beneath my touch.

The kiss grew hungrier. Her restraint cracked first. Her fingers curled into my coat, not pulling me away this time but anchoring herself.

Every motion was slow and deliberate, my hand sliding up her spine, fingers splaying across the small of her back, pulling her in with a possessive patience that left her trembling.

I broke the kiss after passing on the message. She bit her swollen lips then averted her eyes. Shame was slowly creeping up on her.

"That..." she struggled to find her voice. "That shouldn’t have happened."

I smiled faintly, my gaze tracing her expression like a secret I wasn’t supposed to know. "It was bound to happen," I said. "And now it’s clear little Viper. You and I are in this together."

"In what?" she whispered.

"This game," I replied. "Revenge. Power. Whatever you want to call it."

I leaned closer again, voice brushing against her skin. "From this moment on, you’re mine, Braelyn. Fake or not, I’ll make them believe it. I’ll show Raphael what pain tastes like, what jealousy feels like."

Her eyes widened, but I didn’t stop. "You don’t have to do anything," I murmured. "Just play along. Let me make him watch what he threw away."

"Lucien..." she breathed, half warning, half plea.

I tilted her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. "No matter how much he cheats, no matter what he’s done... a cheating man’s pride can’t stand being cheated on."

The silence that followed was electric, her pulse racing under my fingertips. I could feel her restraint bleeding out, her defiance softening into something more dangerous.

I brushed my thumb across her lower lip, the same lips that had trembled under mine moments ago. "So tell me, Braelyn," I whispered,

"Are you ready to play? Two can play this game, Braelyn."

She looked away, her breathing uneven. "And when it’s over?"

"When it’s over," I said, leaning closer until her breath caught, "you can walk away. If you still want to."

Her lashes fluttered. I could almost hear her heartbeat—the uneven rhythm that matched mine.

But she didn’t realise this wasn’t about the game anymore. Every time she looked at me like that—lost, defiant, beautiful—it stripped away the last of my restraint.

I wanted her to fight me, to resist, to tell me this was wrong. Because every time she did, she gave me another reason to make her forget why she was supposed to hate me.

"Lucien..." she said softly, my name like a plea she didn’t mean to make.

I tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at me. "Don’t say my name like that if you don’t want me to do something reckless."

Her lips parted, but no sound came.

So, I smiled the kind of smile that always came before I broke something. It can be a game of lies for now, but I’ll make sure she forgets where the lie ends.