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There are no words for how desperate I am for a Dany/Aemond thread. I don’t care which timeline it’s in just give me the two absolutely obsessed and unhinged for each other. Give me Aemond fighting for his one true Queen 👹

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It wasn't lost on Elain the way his eyes darted to her lips, the simple action sending a dangerous spark to her stomach. This was all so incredibly new to her, so incredibly fast, that Elain felt as if she were getting whiplash, but in the most pleasant of ways. The most surprising part about all of this was that she wasn't scared. She was beginning to think that the decision not to allow the Cauldron to dictate her life had lifted the invisible shackles from around her wrists. The Cauldron could proclaim whatever it wanted, but she was done fighting and hiding from it; the toll had exhausted her almost as much as her grief had.

And she was already having so much fun, and the night hadn't even begun, but it had everything to do with him. He, with his beautiful russet eye and beautiful smile, which she yearned to see more of.

Her body was growing deliciously warm, and she had no idea if it had to do with the drink she was consuming, or if it had everything to do with him and his intoxicating presence. "Perhaps you could eventually show me all of these talents of yours." Elain replies back innocently enough, though there is a certain gleam in her eyes that speaks of mischief as she watches him over the rim of her glass.

At his question, Elain visibly perks up. “Oh, I do!” She confesses with a smile. “I’m not nearly as talented as Nesta is, but I so enjoyed dancing at the balls.”

Lucien hadn't expected that response, it was witty and charming and so Elain he was caught off guard. He had stepped away for her sake—and his, truthfully—but stars above, it took every ounce of self-control he had left not to step right back into her space. And now she was looking at him like that, spine straightened, lips wet from her drink, voice edged with something flirtatious and new. Bold. His russet eye flicked to her mouth. Just for a heartbeat.

She was changing before his eyes. And he’d be a liar if he said it didn’t affect him. Every bit of progress, every glance she didn’t shy from today, made something in his chest tighten. Hope. Hunger. Caution. He was a fool in love, a fool for her. It almost showed when he let a half goofy grin on his face.

He schooled his features into something composed, even as amusement curled the corners of his mouth. He couldn't help it, he was enchanted, dazed and so enraptured by her.

“Depends on your definition of worthwhile,” Lucien replied, his voice a shade lower, warmer than it had been moments before. He took a sip of his drink, which felt as if it fueled his flirtatious behavior. “I’ve been told I have a few talents that might qualify.”

He let it hang in the air between them, not as a challenge, but an invitation. She was testing the waters; he could see it in the gleam in her eyes, in the way her fingers curled around her glass. Whatever had shifted in her since that flower had passed from her hand to his earlier, he wasn’t about to scare it off. Not by pushing....too much. But gods, did he want to step back into that space she'd just filled with laughter and nerves and the scent of something sweetly defiant.

He didn't know what had changed for her, but for once, she was looking, not away from him… but at him. And he would meet her there, wherever she led. "Particularly, that I'm a good dancer, and I've heard you enjoy dancing?" He phrased it as a question, hoping that tiny piece of information Feyre gave held true.

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MARY STUART reign / 2.01

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The irony was not lost on Danaerys that she was taking advice from a man who came from the very same family she wished to eliminate, but admittedly, she respected Tyrion. He was knowledgeable and insightful on things she unfortunately was not, but most of all, he too saw the corrupt ways of his family. Or at the very least, his sister and father. He had tried many times to sway her opinion on his brother, but Danaerys had yet to soften towards the idea of the man who slayed her father, deserved as she was beginning to learn it was.

But this marriage made sense. She had been warned about his previous failure in a marriage pact, but for some reason, Danaerys had no concerns over the same thing happening again. There was something about Robb Stark that she could admire and respect, and even she knew of the honor of the Starks. The two would benefit greatly from this, and it was as she said - they needed each other, and when all was said and done, they could retreat to their own little corners of the Kingdom.

At his acceptance, a weight she hadn't realized had settled on her chest lifted. The North - and Robb Stark- was crucial to her. Without either, regaining her throne became slightly more difficult. The relief was palpable in the slight sinking of her shoulders, and she gave a single nod to herself. She would have her Seven Kingdoms, and she would have the support of the North. "This is suitable to me, yes." It was extremely suitable to her, and she wondered if he was as pleased by this decision as she was. "I imagine neither one of us has any cause for delay," she began, but gave a pause. She had no one she truly desired to have at her side for the ceremony, except perhaps Missandei, and by a very large stretch, Tyrion, if only as her Hand. But both were here. He, on the other hand... "however I also imagine you would like your family present." There was also the matter of the ceremony, which, in truth, she had no personal care for.

It was a better offer than Robb could have anticipated. It was not what he'd wanted, of course. What he wanted was to be rid of the South forever, to make this deal, end this fight, and disappear North, never to travel this far South again. They would go back to their old ways, worship their old gods, live as they had for hundreds of years: feeding themselves, warming themselves, surviving by themselves in the wintery tundra of a snow-covered North. He would rule and lead the people he had come to understand so deeply, the people he had grown up with: his family and neighbors. He knew their struggles, knew what time of year the wheat grew and which houses squabbled over farming lines, where the winds blew particularly rough and what time of year to start storing supplies before they all vanished beneath the frost.

Yet, he needed the dragons. He needed Daenerys Targaryen. Without her help defeating the White Walkers, there would be no North to protect--and unless the Lannisters were stopped, she would have no throne to sit upon. They had a common enemy--and a common goal.

"Then I accept." He had rashly accepted a marriage vow before--and suffered most grievously for breaking it. He knew very well, he could not make the same mistake twice. But he would not break this oath. The only question now was if she'd believe him. The Starks were known throughout the realm as an honorable house, known to keep their word and never break an oath--and in all but this, it still held true. But Robb had tarnished his own reputation with a mistake he could not take back. "My armies and resources will be yours to command and regain the thrown that is rightfully yours. You will aid me in saving the North from the threat beyond the wall. And we will join our houses as one. This is suitable to you?"

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SOFIA CARSON via Instagram (December 19, 2024)

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Elain couldn't accurately put into words how much she was becoming affected by this male, and how much she was beginning to crave his warmth and nearness, which was an incredibly stark contrast to only a few days prior. Where she had once run from whichever room he was in, she now found herself drawn to him. She didn't have any answers for the sudden change in her, but she did know it had everything to do with the curiosity he had sparked during their conversation when she'd gifted him the flower. He wasn't anything at all like she expected him to be, but in all fairness, she hadn't really known what to expect, either.

His presence was so intoxicating, she both wanted him to keep far away and come even closer, to crowd into her space until all she could feel and smell was him. Was this an effect of their supposed bond? She didn't think so; otherwise, she was sure she would have felt it earlier... unless her initiating a conversation triggered it, and though it was doubtful and silly, it was still a plausible explanation. After all, she really didn't know much at all about fae and these bonds, but she'd rather drown in the Sidra than ask him more about it. She also wasn't inclined to ask either of her sisters, so she was just going to have to feel it all out.

Elain gave an audible exhale the moment he stepped away, and she felt unreasonably cold in his absence despite the heat that continued to flush her cheeks. Raising her glass to her lips and taking a rather large sip to gather herself, she straightened her spine. "That depends," she says after a few moments of debating her words. "will you make it worth my while?" It was unusually easy to fall into banter with him, emboldened in ways she wasn't with anyone else, not even her sisters. And she liked it. She liked the way he made her speak without thought, and the way her heart pounded with adrenaline in anticipation of his reactions.

From the moment they'd stepped into the tavern, his amber eye had sparkled with a kind of quiet mischief that Elain didn’t often see directed her way, and the more she responded—be it with a glance, a flustered breath, or a flush creeping into her cheeks, the more emboldened he became. Now, with her caged between his arms, pressed flush to the bar with his chest warming her back, Lucien knew she was flustered beyond words. If she had any issues with it, she did not voice it verbal or through their bond. It felt like a step in the right direction.

He caught her stuttered response to the bartender and the sound coaxed a slow grin to his lips. He’d said her name affectionately, deliberately, to test just how much it could become a spell in his mouth. The pink blooming across her cheeks was more than enough of an answer. He had warned her, he was curious to see what else would make her blush. And she had teased him, rushing out of dinner after putting a few more...not so innocent thoughts in his head. Where had this Elain come from? Or had their dancing around this...thing between them finally come to a boiling point?

Lucien didn’t let on how deeply her reactions affected him, how her scent tangled with his thoughts and how each tiny shiver or hesitant breath from her set something smoldering low in his gut. But he was aware—acutely, maddeningly aware—of every inch of space between them, and how little of it remained. And as she fumbled for composure, trying to focus on anything but him, Lucien leaned ever so slightly closer, letting his smirk ghost along the curve of her cheek in the form of warmth and nearness. All in the guise of reaching for his drink, "Thank you Celeste, I'm sure we'll be back" He hummed thoughtfully, finally giving Elain some breathing room.

He didn’t need to win tonight. This wasn't about victory. This was about the slow game, the way her flustered silences said more than words ever could. And if his nearness turned her into a flushed, lovely mess—well, he’d happily press his advantage again... and again until she voiced she wanted him to stop. "Are you going to save a dance for me?" He asked, sipping at his whiskey with a smile.

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♡ EIZA GONZALEZ cosmopolitan's cheap shots

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Esme watched the hounds with mesmerized fear as they chased off her attackers, the choking fear she'd felt slowly dissipating as they ran off, far away from her, and shadows curled around her shaking body, like a comforting embrace. She didn't question the shadows, not the ones that had formed into vicious creatures, nor the ones that now wrapped around her. They meant her no harm; she simply knew that. The men were most certainly running back to Zeus to inform him of their failure and her... escape, which certainly didn't bode well for her in the long run, but she knew enough to know that he couldn't touch her here. Now it was just a matter of finding out how long her welcome ran.

Finally turning her full attention to the handsome stranger, Esme's eyebrows rose high. "Really?" She asked in disbelief, hope rising far too quickly in her chest. She didn't want to go back, not now and maybe not ever, not when she would be a walking target and a prisoner, at best. At worst, she would be dead. "What happens after spring?" She asks slowly. She had taken note of the undertone of regret in his voice, and it had confused her, given that he was doing her the favor of keeping her safe. But if until springtime was all he was allowing her, which was far more generous than she had anticipated, it gave her time to think of her next steps, and where she could go that she would be safe.

"I don't know," Esme confessed in a whisper to his question, her dread momentarily returning. She didn't know what her mother and Zeus had bargained, and she didn't even know if the men who chased after her even had intentions of bringing her back alive.

Fortunately, the hounds weren't after her. They ignored her completely, a single-minded focus in attacking her pursuers and chasing them back across the river. If they stayed, they would die, and they were soon fleeing to the edges of his territory, no doubt to report back to Zeus about their failure. Hades doubted his brother would receive the news well. It might be quicker for them to stay here and be eaten.

The shadows wrapped around her like a cloak when she took his hand, holding her safe like an embrace. "Nothing will harm you while you're here. But I'm afraid it won't be safe for you to leave until spring." There was a note of regret in his voice, as though he anticipated protest. Nobody wanted to be a prisoner in the Underworld, where there was no sunlight and nothing grew except the careful illusions he crafted to make the place less depressing. Only a bargain would protect her from the other gods though. She now rightfully belonged to the Underworld for half the year.

Her attackers gone, the hellhounds melted back into the shadows as though they'd never been. He tilted his head to get a good look at her, curiosity and amusement mingling in his expression. "What does my brother want with you, I wonder?" He wasn't positive even she knew, but Hades found it enjoyable to thwart his plans when he was acting like a tyrant.

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Stephanie Beatriz as Rosa Diaz in Brooklyn Nine Nine (2013—2021)

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Only once he was certain she wasn't about to start apologizing or freak out, did he lower his hand. He was sure she wasn't absolutely fine by any means, but if he could at least calmly get her out of here, it was a win for him. "I'll take you home." He promised with a crooked smile and leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. "I have the car ready out front, okay? Just stay by my side until we get there."

Isabelle looked up at him slowly, swallowing down the big lump in the back of her throat. With the tiniest nod she stared back at him. "I understand." She smiled ever so softly before quickly wiping some tears from her cheeks. "I really want to go home now." - Isabelle breathed out, hand reaching to tug his jacket softly. "And bathe very, very long and hot."

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THE VAMPIRE DIARIES, 3.08 — Ordinary People

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Darcy was hurriedly undoing her seatbelt when he arrived to open her door; her hands were unstable and her vision slightly blurry from the alcohol, but she finally managed and sprang out of the car. "Thanks!" She said, momentarily stopping to press a kiss to his cheek before running towards the shore. She didn't care a single bit as she began to pull off her dress and fling it to the side, knowing even while drunk that wet clothes were no fun. "Watch this!" She calls over her shoulder while beginning to wade into the shallow waters, and once she was up to her waist and could feel the magic in her body shift, she ducked under the water with a splash.

When they got to the beach, Alex was relieved to see that it was empty, in case she was telling the truth, he didn't know why his curiosity was getting the best of him, so when he got out he opened the door for her. "You have the excitement of a kid in a candy store," Alex said as he chuckled.

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It seemed that just as naturally as she had placed her hand in his, it was just as natural for him to pull her into his side. Even more, Elain found she didn't mind it. In fact, she secretly enjoyed the warmth that seemed to radiate off of him, the sensation enveloping her in a warm blanket of security. It even made the sensation of winnowing somewhat more bearable to her.

Once she'd grounded herself, she took in the beautiful twinkling lights of the artist quarter. Of the different areas of Velaris, Elain was most familiar with the Rainbow, though admittedly, she'd only visited the artists' quarter a handful of times, mostly to visit Feyre's studio or shop for supplies with her, and she'd yet to experience it at night. It was unlike anything she'd seen before, so full of life and color, and Elain didn't know where to look first, her eyes darting every which way. Though she wasn't so distracted as to not notice the hand he placed at her back, his touch practically searing into her skin through her dress, and his low whisper against her ear causing a pleasant shiver to dance down her spine.

As he led her into a little tavern, Elain knew immediately she would enjoy this place far more than Rita's. She'd only gone to Rita's a few times, always at the beckoning of the others, but she found it loud and overwhelming. This place was quieter and cozier in a way Rita's would never be, and she appreciated that.

Elain was also incredibly certain that Lucien was doing everything within his power to push her buttons, to see how far he could go until she was a blushing, flustered mess. It seemed as the night progressed, he was growing bolder in his words and touches, encouraged by her own allowance of his actions, and it was making her positively lightheaded. Especially as he now practically caged her in against the bar, his warm body pressed against her back as his arms barricaded her on either side. Once again, he was overwhelming her with his warmth and smell, and she found it difficult to breathe with him so close and practically surrounding her. She took notice of the ease with which he interacted with this female, Celeste, to distract from how hot her face had gotten and how her stomach was doing flips from his proximity. "Just wine for me, please." She stuttered out, stilling in surprise from his casual touch and endearment. My lovely Elain, he had said, and the sound echoed around in her mind as her face once more flushed pink, which seemed to be a recurring theme whenever she was with him, and by the looks of the sly smirk on his lips that she caught sight of out of the corner of her eye, he was betting on it.

Lucien tucked Elain into his side as if she belonged there, fitting her against him as if he'd done it a thousand times and would a thousand more. It felt natural, the ease in which she slipped her hand into his. Lucien winnowed them with ease, until they popped back outside the tavern. The artist quarters in Velaris were stunning, soft faelights lighting the air above them, the faint sound of music down the street and from within the tavern.

Lucien slipped his hand to the small of her back, leaning down to the shell of her ear. "After you, my Lady" He breathed softly, chuckling as they entered. He wondered if Elain had ever been somewhere like this, and while Rita's had...a different vibe; he found this much easier to let loose in. It was cozy, intimate, the dancing fun and jovial. It didn't seem wild and chaotic, but somehow perfect for a chance for them to escape. Barely anyone here would gawk if they did recognize them, let alone approach them. It was one reason Lucien enjoyed this spot, no one bothered him.

"Ah! There he is, our favorite customer" Lucien's cheeks burned, tugging Elain closer in front of him as he stood behind her, his palms on the bar either side of her. "Celeste, good to see you" He replied warmly, his chin perching on Elain's shoulder. "Could we trouble you for some drinks? Whiskey for me, and for my lovely Elain?" He leaned slightly to see how much of a blush had appeared on her face, attempting hide the sly smirk on his face. Lucien straightened his back, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. He hoped, more than anything that Elain would have fun. That outside of the townhouse, from the prying eyes of the Night Court and her sisters that she just make keep surprising him, keep giving him those looks, those smiles, those blushes.

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She admired their hands together with fascination and wonder. She knew that he had known exactly what he was doing when offering her the bargain, but she found she didn't mind one single bit, not when their hands looked so beautiful with their matching vines of ink, nor the way she could now feel him, even stronger than before.

His low voice brushed against her like a sinful caress, and a deep shiver worked its way down her spine. Suddenly and frighteningly, being stolen away by him didn't sound terribly bad. "I shall keep that in mind, sir." She managed to say, her voice breathless as she found herself lost in his soft gaze.

Rather reluctantly, Elain pulled her hand away from his and backed away until she was back within the walls of her room, and only then did she turn away from him and flee into her bathing chamber, snatching her dress on her way. It took her longer than necessary to reemerge because, for a long moment, she had simply stood admiring the vines on her hand, turning the limb every which way. Only when she had examined every inch of the tattoo did she change into her dress, hurriedly running her fingers through her hair before she returned back onto the balcony, heart pounding away. "I'm ready." This time, she didn't hesitate when placing her hand in his, the movement feeling natural to her as she welcomed the warmth of his touch.

Lucien’s grin deepened, slow and knowing as he gazed down at where their hands were now bound in faintly glowing ink—his magic, his bargain. He wondered if Elain felt that thrill that rang through him, their bond humming but in irritation that another is in its place. He could ignore it, because for a few hours she was willingly accepting a tether to him. Her words, light and teasing, struck something far deeper in him than he cared to admit, and for a breath, he only watched her with a look that bordered on affection. Then, with a voice gone low and rough around the edges, he murmured, “If you ever wish to be stolen, Elain, I would offer myself up gladly for the task.”

His thumb brushed over her knuckles, reverent, his smile turned roguish again but the softness in his eyes didn’t waver. “You’d be gone before anyone thought to stop me, and I’d return you safe and sound,” he added, tone deceptively casual except for the quiet truth that lived beneath it. “But only if you wished it.”

Because despite the teasing and the charm, despite the thrill of their dance tonight, Lucien meant every word. He would never take what wasn’t freely offered. But mother above, if she ever asked… there was nothing he wouldn’t give.

"I'll wait here while you ready. Then I'll be whisking you away, my lady" Lucien swore his heart was going to burst out from his chest, and he was sure Elain was likely aware of it. For all his confidence, he was nervous. Nervous he might somehow step over this new line they've drawn, lose himself in her brown eyes and sweet scent. Elain was surprising him, and Lucien, like the lovesick fool he was— couldn't help but follow. His hand reached out again, ready to pull Elain into his arms temporarily while they winnowed.

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Elain knew with absolute certainty that if she had stayed at the table any longer to hear his reply, it wouldn't have gone in her favor since she didn't know how long her surge of boldness would last. So she fled under the guise of needing rest, which she did! Only, it had been the adrenaline rushing through her that made her feel as if she would positively faint. And Lucien, with his absolutely daring confidence and alluring gaze.

The moment she'd entered her room, she released a large exhale and immediately prepared herself a bath, which she'd sat in long after the water would have chilled back in the human world, but remained delightfully warm for her here. She was in no rush to go to bed, not when her mind continued to run a mile a minute and would undoubtedly leave her unable to sleep, so she took her time and care in preparing herself.

She was sitting at her vanity, brushing through her hair with careful strokes of her brush, when a knock sounded on the glass of her balcony door, startling her. She felt a brief flash of fear at the intrusion, until she felt a presence on the otherside that was beginning to grow familiar to her. Besides, she reasoned, no one who intended to do her harm would knock, but the deep fear lingered. She hesitated for a long moment before opening the door, not out of any reservations, but to give herself a moment to prepare.

When she finally opened the door, she was still quite unprepared for the sight of him that greeted her, and her heart, which had only just calmed, began to race once more. She hoped that he couldn't see the flush that had arisen to her cheeks in the dark of the night, and she found herself holding her breath as he leaned in closer to her, listening to every devilish word he spoke with rapt attention. This male continued to pleasantly surprise her, leaving her with absolutely no clue as to what he would do or say next. Her eyes jumped from his to the hand he held out to her, a brief moment of hesitation rising in her. She'd never done anything like this before, but she'd also never known anyone like Lucien before, either. She momentarily wondered what her sisters would think if they found out, but she argued that it was if they did. "Are you saying that if I don't agree to your bargain, you'd steal me away and bring me back with more than a hair out of place?" Her question came out innocently enough, her doe-like eyes peering up at him with barely concealed mischief. Still, her curiosity continued to win out against her better judgment with this male, and her small hand lifted to lay against his, binding their agreement.

At first, Elain didn't question the warmth that enveloped her hand or the shivers that danced up her arm, figuring it simply had to do with him and his growing effect on her. Only when the sensation grew did Elain glance down at their hands, and her eyes widened upon seeing inky black vines twisting around her hand and up her wrist. She'd forgotten a key detail in interacting with fae, but she found she didn't mind at all as she admired the beautiful vines, her mouth slightly parted. "Shame," she finally murmured absentmindedly, a faint smile tugging at her lips as her eyes slowly rose back up to his so she could peer at him through her lashes. "I was curious to see if you would steal me away." She didn't know where this bold behavior came from whenever she was around him, but she found she liked it, and she enjoyed this little game they were unintentionally playing.

Lucien blinked, stunned into stillness as Elain’s bold words lingered in his head like a struck match—unexpected and crackling with heat. He hadn’t expected that from her, not the soft-spoken, sweet Elain who often let silences speak louder than her tongue. But tonight, she’d looked him straight in the eye, voice steady and teasing, and left him completely disarmed. By the time he gathered his wits enough to stand, her chair was already empty, the soft rustle of her skirts disappearing down the hallway. “Cauldron save me,” he muttered, a breathless chuckle rising from his throat. "I'll be...returning to my apartment" Frustration coiled warm and alive in his chest, not bitter—but buzzing, eager. She’d left him speechless. But not for long. She might’ve escaped this round, but he’d get his chance later. And when he did, he planned to return the favor—with interest.

It had been a few hours, and the light in her room had yet to dim. Lucien hesitated before tapping his knuckles against the glass door. A small balcony, like so many of the rooms here had. Lucien leaned casually back, his arms braced behind him. He was attempting to look casual, when in reality he was nervous. Would she know? Lucien waited, his heart fluttering.

His lips widened into a smile, roguish and charming. “…I was hoping to steal you away for a few hours. To misbehave” Lucien stepped closer, just enough for his voice to drop low and conspiratorial. “And certainly not at Rita's. Somewhere down in the artist quarters that is much more exciting.” He extended his hand like an invitation wrapped in velvet. When she didn’t immediately answer, he leaned in, playful and solemn all at once. “I’ll make you a bargain,” he said, voice a whisper of heat against her skin. “You come with me tonight—and I promise to bring you home safe. Not a hair out of place.” His grin widened, just a touch too sharp to be innocent.

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Elain's fingers began to drum a rapid beat against the table, desperately hoping no one else could hear how loudly her heart was pounding, and if they did, it would be masked by the tapping of her fingers. She was flustered, incredibly so, and she silently cursed the male for making her pulse race and her mind stutter.

She was almost irate at him for having such an effect on her, if it weren't for the absolute thrill that was coursing through her veins. She'd never felt like this when speaking to Graysen, or even Azriel. She'd been nervous, sure, but never had it felt like her heart would beat out of her chest at any moment or that she could somehow get a high from the adrenaline pumping through her. They both had always been respectful, incredibly so to the point where it now seemed to verge on overly, but Lucien seemed to toe that line incredibly well.

I can make other sounds too, if you'd like. She didn't know where that had come from, a sudden boldness surging through her even as her cheeks still remained flushed. You'll simply have to find out if that mouth can do more than speak of misbehaving.

Pulling her foot away from his, she rose with a sudden abruptness, her chair scraping loudly against the floor as she pushed it back. "I think I might retire early." She announced with a calmness she certainly did not feel, adding a pleasant smile to her lips as she looked at everyone except Lucien, afraid her calm mask would slip. "Goodnight," she adds, before swiftly turning on her heel and running walking to her room, suddenly requiring a long bath to calm her nerves.

He leaned back slightly, adding in a comment to a conversation he'd barely been paying attention too. Not when Elain so quickly replied to keep the secret. Lucien wasn't a fool, he'd seen more than a few pointed looks from Feyre, almost begging to let her into his head. Lucien kept his walls up, there was only one voice he wanted to hear in his head, and she was currently squeaking.

Lucien stifled a chuckle, arching a brow at her as everyone took a curious glance. I never knew you could sound like that, He teased, something fluttering in his chest. Lucien lifted his glass to his lips, returning to make another noncommittal comment to the conversation next to him. His gaze drifted back to Elain, this time he didn't pull his gaze from hers.

I’m afraid you’d have to be more specific, Elain. There are so many kinds of misbehaving a male like me could get up to. His eye narrowed just slightly as he added, And I find myself more and more interested in discovering which kinds make you blush.

He wanted to see what she’d do if he kept stepping just barely over the line of propriety. Just enough to see how far she’d follow, if Elain could feel that she not only rose to meet his fire but matched it with her own. A warmth that seeped into the cracks of him without warning, without demand, and made him wonder just how much more of her he could coax forward.

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Zoë Kravitz via Instagram