Chapter 133: A Moment Too Close

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Ruelle watched as Lucian drew her leg closer and rested her heel against his knee. His fingers worked the buckle loose before he slid the shoe carefully from her foot.

Her eyes lingered on him.

The seriousness on Lucian’s face had none of the temper he had carried back in the den. The darkness in his eyes that had worried her was gone, replaced now with quiet patience.

Lucian set her foot back on the floor. Then, without looking up, his hand reached for the other.

The firelight from the hearth flickered across his features as he worked, the warm glow catching in the dark strands of his hair and along the sharp line of his jaw. His movements were precise and unhurried, as though the small task before him required all of his attention.

Something about the quiet care of it squeezed painfully at her heart.

Ruelle felt a small jolt run through her when Lucian’s fingers pressed lightly against her ankle. When he looked up, the steadiness in his gaze made her breath catch.

“I thought we discussed this at noon. About you and carriages,” Lucian murmured. He then set her foot back on the ground. “Come to me if something like today happens again. I will take care of everything.”

Ruelle gave a nod before replying, “Okay.” After a pause, she asked softly, “But there will be repercussions for what happened in the den… won’t there?”

“Perhaps,” Lucian replied, his tone unconcerned. The calm in his voice eased the tightness in her chest. “But nothing worth worrying about.”

Lucian rose and drew the small side table closer to them.

He crossed to the cupboard, retrieving a bottle of liquor along with cotton and a clean cloth. He pulled his drawer and picked up something before he poured a glass of water. Stirring it, he returned to sit in front of her on the bed.

He handed it to her. “Drink this.”

Once she was done drinking, he placed the glass aside and said,

“Don’t move. I need to open the back of the dress.”

A blush rose quickly to her cheeks and her gaze drifted away. She asked in a whisper, “Isn’t it going to be uncomfortable for you to work with the wound like this?”

“Hardly,” Lucian answered, drawing her a little closer with one hand while the other held the dagger. She heard the fabric tear softly behind her and cool air touched her skin. He then instructed her, “Put your arms around me.”

Ruelle moved back slightly to look at him, perplexed. “Are you asking for a hug?” she joked.

“I am.” Lucian’s expression remained perfectly straight. “It seemed reasonable after dragging you out of that den. Arms around.”

Her brown eyes met his red ones, his expression still serious. Slowly, she lifted her hands and wrapped her arms around his torso. As she did, she caught the faint scent of wild pine and something clean and earthy.

The moment his hand reached the wooden piece lodged in her back, she flinched as if her soul had nearly left her body. Her heart began to race with fear.

“I’m going to pull it out,” Lucian informed her, his other hand settling against her lower back to keep her from moving. “I’ll count. Take a deep breath.”

“I know you are going to take it out—”

“One.”

Before she could finish her words, Lucian pulled the wooden piece cleanly from her back, and for a second the room froze.

A painful scream tore from Ruelle’s lips as the excruciating pain shot through her body. Tears filled her eyes as she clutched onto him, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Soon blood began to spill from her open wound.

“I need to disinfect it,” Lucian let her know.

But Ruelle shook her head against his chest, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“You d—don’t need to do that—It will heal fine—You didn’t even count properly!” Her words came out broken as she tried to catch her breath.

Lucian didn’t answer her. The scent of her blood had begun to fill the room, and his eyes slowly darkened.

Ruelle had been injured before, but never like this. She knew what pouring alcohol on the wound would mean. When she tried to pull away, his hand pressed firmly against her back, unmoving.

“Please don’t—”

“Easy,” Lucian murmured, his hand steady against her back. His thumb pressed lightly against her spine, grounding her. “The wound needs to be cleaned. It will hurt for a moment,” he said calmly. “Bear with it.”

When her arms tightened around his torso and her eyes squeezed shut, Lucian poured the alcohol over the wound on her back. The moment it touched her skin, her nails dug into his back as another wave of pain tore through her.

“Good girl,” Lucian said gently against her hair. He pressed a clean cloth against the wound. “It’s over now.”

“Thank God…” Ruelle said as she breathed harshly. “Thankfully I didn’t turn and get stabbed in the front,” her friend would have staked her heart as if she was a vampire.

Lucian didn’t move. His eyes turned slightly cold at her words and the cloth in his hand pressed a little firmer against her back before easing again. He proposed, “Jinxy trains some of the Elites after the regular hours. I can put in a word.”

Ruelle gave a nod before her arms dropped and she pulled away with her cheeks flushed. “That would be helpful,” she replied, knowing Kevin would appreciate it as he wanted to join the unit of royal guards.

“There’s one last thing left,” Lucian remarked, and Ruelle looked at him through her wet lashes. “The wound needs to be bandaged.”

The implication dawned on her a second later. The dress would have to be moved aside for the bandage to be wrapped properly.

“Ah… yes. You are right,” Ruelle replied, colour rising to her cheeks. Before she could say something, Lucian got up and sat behind her this time, with his hand still pressed on the wound with the cloth.

Lucian offered the bandage, saying, “Tell me if you find it hard.”

Ruelle took the bandage and began to unroll it slowly. When she turned to hand the roll from above, she noticed him watching her back and said quickly,

“Don’t look at it—they are ugly.”

The scars on her body had always been something she was insecure about. When she had first come to Sexton, she had thought no one would ever choose her once they saw them.

“I think they are brave. Like a soldier’s scars that speak of where he stood and endured. Yours are no different,” Lucian responded. He took the bandage roll from her hand and guided it around her wound before passing the end back to her from the side so she could continue.

“Soldiers can wear theirs with honour,” she murmured, clutching the bandage roll tight. “Mine are shameful. I should have left…” her voice dropped.

When the man she was going to be engaged to had called it off, it had spread rumours and whispers about her. About her scars and how damaged she was, that she was bound to sit on the shelf.

“Shame belongs to the one who caused them. Not to you who survived them,” Lucian answered while his eyes never left her. “It is easy to run from pain. But staying and enduring it takes far more strength. Most people break under far less.”

The quiet consideration he had shown her earlier by taking a seat behind her lingered in her mind and very few people had ever treated her with such regard. The thought sent a strange warmth through her chest, a flutter that began low in her stomach before rising upward like a swarm of restless butterflies.

That most important thing was that he had come for today. No one went that far for someone… and her heart skipped a beat.

She was pulled from her thoughts when Lucian’s cool finger brushed slowly along her spine. The light touch sent a quiet shiver through her before she could stop it.

“Lucian?” she uttered his name softly.

Behind her, his hand stilled for a moment against her back. His fingers lingered against the warm skin beneath them and his jaw tightened almost subtly before he drew them away.

“I will draw you a bath.”

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