Chapter 3

My mind buzzed, then went completely blank with panic. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My heart slammed so hard against my ribs it felt like it might shatter them, and the ringing in my ears drowned out even the soft scrape of suitcase wheels against the carpet.

Run? I'd been caught red-handed. Where else was there to go?

I instinctively took a step back, only to bump into a door behind me. Cornered, I stood frozen, trembling, with my fingers twitching uselessly like they didn't know what to do with themselves.

Lucien blocked the doorway, his presence pressing down on me like a storm ready to break.

He stepped forward. Just one step, but it was enough to turn the pressure up tenfold.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked, voice low. "Where's all that fire from earlier, Stella? You were packing like you meant it. Talk."

A sharp, musky scent hung in the air. Rather than comforting me, it felt like a warning, and it made my skin crawl.

I gasped soundlessly and dug my nails into my palm, using the pain to claw my way back to my voice.

"A friend invited me," I said quickly. "For a trip. To unwind. That's all. Just a few days at the beach, okay?"

It was pathetic. Even I didn't buy it, so there was no chance he did.

Still, I had to stick to it. I straightened my back, puffed out my chest, trying to fake some confidence. But my legs were shaking.

"A friend?" Lucien repeated, voice tightening with suspicion. His eyes flicked down to the suitcase by my feet.

"Who is it? What's their name?" he asked. "Do I know them?" The questions came fast, one after another, leaving me barely a second to breathe.

He wasn't yelling, but every word landed like a command from someone who never needed to raise his voice to get precisely what he wanted.

"You don't know them," I snapped, louder than I meant to. "Do I seriously need your approval for every person I talk to? Mr. Blackwood, don't you think you're being just a little controlling?"

"I'm your fiancé," Lucien said, his voice calm and immovable. "Of course I care."

A sharp bitterness surged up behind my nose, and my eyes started burning as tears welled up.

I jerked my head down, not wanting him to see how pathetic I looked.

My voice came out tight and muffled, forced through clenched teeth. "...Not for much longer."

I barely whispered the words, yet the air in the room thickened like a storm closing in.

I felt his stare harden from sharp scrutiny into something utterly cold and unforgiving.

The pressure pressed down on my chest, and the silence stretched, heavy and stifling. Even the air felt colder.

I kept my gaze low, focusing instead on the carpet's intricate designs as a clammy sweat crept through my sleepwear.

Just when I thought the silence would crush me, Lucien moved.

He said nothing and walked toward me.

His pace was slow, but each step carried a weight so heavy it tightened my throat.

I flinched instinctively and tried to back away, but the door blocked my retreat.

Lucien stopped just inches from me, close enough that I could catch that subtle musky scent again, now blended with his usual crisp and sharp cologne. The combination was strange, intoxicating, but edged with danger.

His tall frame towered over me, casting a shadow that swallowed me whole.

"So you're afraid of snakes," Lucien said, his voice low and cool, rumbling just above my head. "And now you're afraid of me, too?"

My entire body went still.

The danger was palpable, his presence thickening the air until the pressure in the room felt unbearable.

But what truly overwhelmed me was the suffocating feeling of being trapped, and the humiliating knowledge that he could see right through me.

I kept my head down, my voice flat and stubborn. "Who said I'm afraid of you? I'm just…"

"Just what?" His voice cut in, sharp and relentless.

I had no answer.

Just what?

Just that I didn't want to see you? That I couldn't breathe when you were near me? That looking at you made me feel like a joke?

All those words stuck in my throat, choking me silent.

My silence seemed only to fuel his anger, or some more complicated emotion simmering beneath the surface.

Suddenly, he let out a low, cold laugh. It was brief but as sharp and biting as ice.

Without warning, Lucien crouched down right in front of me.

I flinched, my eyes darting to his movement.

His long fingers reached smoothly toward the floor by my feet, a motion so natural it seemed rehearsed a thousand times.

And then I saw it—a silver-white snake.

One of his snakes, Luna. When had it slithered in here? How had I not noticed?

It curled in the shadow of my suitcase handle, its tiny head raised, tongue flicking silently through the air.

Blood rushed to my head, and the fragile composure I'd been holding onto collapsed like a house of cards.

I drew in a sharp breath as panic surged through me, and I recoiled instinctively, only to crash hard against the door behind me.