Thirty-Two ◑ The Elevator

A promise. Lucille wanted it to be a promise. Someday, she would be more open. Someday, she would be able to find who she really was.

She poured all of this, all of the hope and the reassurance, into the kiss she'd just given him.

And it seemed that he was responding with the same emotions as he started to kiss her back.

Cade distractedly set his mug aside, adjusting in his sitting position so that his face was angled perfectly with hers. She trailed her hand from his jaw down to his chest, feeling the sudden rapid rate of his heart that matched her own. His lips were closing over hers, muffling the sigh that had just escaped her. Slowly, he put a hand behind her neck, his fingers curling into her hair as he pulled her closer and deepened their kiss.

He was warm and perfect, perhaps too much so. She found herself longing to be even closer to him, although they were separated by barely an inch. Her fist closed around the collar of his shirt, clamoring for the remaining distance to disappear.

There was an emptiness in her that appeared so suddenly and was now longing to be covered. She wanted to be pressed against him, to feel nothing but him. He responded by enveloping her in his arms, his hands firm inside her cape, tugging at the back of her shirt’s neckline. The tips of his fingers left searing marks on her already hot skin.

And just like that, Lucille was lost.

She didn't mind. At this point she didn't mind anything but the man who was holding her so tenderly she could melt. The roughness of his light stubble and the softness of his lips were sending waves of warmth all over her body, swimming in her veins and reaching the very tips of her fingers.

That warmth didn't vanish even when she pulled away to catch her breath.

Lucille supposed it was a little embarrassing, to be out of breath just because of a kiss. But something about the moment made her abandon her self-conscious tendencies.

Cade didn’t seem to mind either way. He was just staring at her with an expression of suppressed joy and mild surprise, like he still couldn’t believe what had happened.

As though to confirm that, he blurted out, “That was real, right?”

“Yeah.” The laugh that came out of her calmed everything in her system. “That was very real.”

“Thank God,” he sighed, and that made her laugh a little more.

Then she noticed that they were still tangled in each other, still clinging onto each other. They were sitting so close to each other that she was basically on his lap. While she was tempted to find her place right there, she settled with enclosing him in her arms and asking, “Didn’t it feel real enough for you?”

“I think one more will do the trick.”

“Just one?”

“I hope not,” Cade said softly, then pulled her in for another deep kiss.

◑≡◑≡◑≡◑

Lucille stood in the middle of the Chateau Hotel lobby, basking in the glow of the yellow lights and still smiling from the night’s events. How she’d gotten there, she couldn’t remember. She couldn’t even recall her journey home. The only thing she was sure about was that she’d been with Cade, and that there was a possibility she was head over heels for the guy.

The urge to tell Agnes all about what had happened was overwhelming. She felt like a full glass being balanced on a platter, just threatening to slosh all over. This only intensified as she trotted towards the elevator, her face flushed with excitement. She pressed the key and watched the numbers go down, basically hopping in her spot as the elevator doors parted.

However, all of her emotions got drained in one sweep the moment she saw the only person standing inside the glass confines of the lift.

Icy blond hair, brilliant blue eyes, a wide smile, and a suit as white as a cloud. Exactly as Lucille remembered.

Keiran, the God of Fate.

“Lucille,” he said in his usual playful baritone. “Come, come!”

She didn’t move. She couldn’t. She was paralyzed in her spot, pinned there by pure shock and apprehension. She just gawked at him, blinking rapidly and hoping this was just a hallucination.

Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t just an illusion. Keiran was really here, in a hotel elevator, beckoning her to come in.

How long had it been since she’d last seen him? Like, really seen him? She couldn’t remember. That was how much time had passed. The god preferred to hide inside anything he could fit into or send Dimitri to deliver messages or not show up at all. It had been so long that she’d forgotten that he had the appearance of a mean, mischievous angel or perhaps a criminally good-looking bully stuck in his late twenties.

It had been so long that it took her a couple of moments to remember just how much she hated his guts.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Keiran impatiently gestured her to step inside the elevator. “Come on now, woman. I don’t have all night—”

“You fucking donkey,” Lucille spat out. She didn’t care if her words sounded straight out of a Gordon Ramsay show. The important thing was the amount of venom she’d managed to inject in that statement.

But of course, this only amused the god. “Ah, back then you call me ‘scurvy companion’, which I guess you have read from our good old friend William Shakespeare. I guess I haven’t improved since, huh?”

Lucille gnashed her teeth. “I’m taking the stairs.”

“All the way up?” he asked incredulously. “You’re going to put a strain on those pretty legs of yours."

“Now you're just being a pervert.”

He huffed. “I beg to differ. I just want to make sure your limbs are functioning so you can do what you're supposed to do, which is to serve me."

She was so infuriated that she couldn't think of something vile enough for him to hear.

"Are you sure you don’t want to be alone with me even for a quick little trip?” Keiran leaned against the door. “I promise to make it entertaining.”

The jaunty tone, the casual smile, the contented sigh . . . these were all clear signs that he didn’t take her seriously at all. It got her blood boiling at a record time. She marched towards him with her hands outstretched, aiming for the tightest, quickest strangling session that she’d been dying to try on him for as long as she could remember.

And she was quicker this time. So much so that Keiran hadn’t noticed she was out for murder until the tips of her fingers lingered dangerously close to the sides of his neck.

Instantly, his whole demeanor darkened. In one quick swipe, he gathered both of her hands with one of his and yanked her inside the elevator, which closed immediately. She gasped at the sudden motion and tried to wriggle away, but his grip was too strong for her, too rough. He twisted her arms behind her back and pushed her against the wall like some sort of a cop arresting a particularly nasty criminal.

“Darling, have you forgotten the rules?” Keiran whispered in her ear. “If you value your life, do not lay a finger on me.”

“Why, are you going to kill me?” she sneered. “Do it, then. Have a go.”

His laugh was nothing but a low hum. “I won’t kill you, but I will make sure you learn your lesson.”

With that, he released her, but instead of standing at the opposite side of the cramped space like she’d expected, he stood directly in front of her. It was as though he was daring her to try touching him again. From this proximity and with the white lights above, his eyes were startlingly bright against his dark lashes, taking on the color of a shallow swimming pool. The intensity in them was just as unnerving.

Everything about Keiran's appearance seemed to have been developed as a contrast to his twin Dimitri. Their coloring alone was already miles away in difference, but also the way they carried themselves.

Dimitri was milder, more deliberate in his approach, although he also had a tendency to get really cocky and condescending. Still, he was kind and compassionate most of the time. On the other hand, Keiran was tougher, more imposing. He was often smiley and playful, but under all that was a certain coldness, a detachment. His gaze carried some sort of a boredom, as though nothing would ever particularly catch his interest anymore. When something did catch his attention, he’d usually address it with all the sarcasm he could muster.

So, yes, out of the two brothers, it was him who Lucille wanted to kill.

Dimitri had recently become an equal, though.

Lucille flicked her stray locks of hair away from her face. “Why are you here, Keiran?”

“To catch up, of course!” Keiran replied in a cheerful tone, his lips curling into a smirk. “I think I’m allowed to do that. Or is it only okay when Dimitri does it? After all, you are his lovely little plaything.”

The words echoed in Lucille’s ears like a gunshot. Shame and anger, brewing up into a mix of heat and bitterness, rose up her throat. Before she knew it, she was lunging towards Keiran again, throwing her head back for a nice little head-butt.

Keiran stepped back just in time, and just then, the entire scene changed.

Suddenly, they were no longer inside the unmoving elevator. They were in the rooftop of the hotel, and Lucille was standing at the edge. Only the heels of her shoes were set on the concrete block that was supposed to be the barrier. She was tilting forward, towards the zooming cars below. The only thing that prevented her from falling was Keiran himself, who was standing behind her and holding her by the arms.

“Let me ask you something, Lucille,” he crooned sweetly, “Are you as interested as I am to find out what happens if I let go?"