Chapter 135: Breathless and dazed.

Chapter 135

The request for a kiss, when it came, was intended to be the ultimate romantic gesture—a Sovereign claiming his prize after a night of high-stakes revelations.

Lucian leaned in, his expression a masterpiece of brooding intensity, expecting her to melt into his arms under the sheer weight of his ancient charisma.

Instead, Isabella’s snorted, her eyes going wide, and then she did something completely unregal.

A genuine, belly-deep laughter burst from her lips, echoing off the high-end kitchen appliances and the cold floors. She bent forward, her forehead nearly hitting his chest as she struggled to catch her breath, her shoulders shaking with an uncontrollable mirth that completely shattered the “electrically charged” atmosphere he had worked so hard to cultivate.

Lucian froze. His arms, which had been effectively trapping her against the island, remained locked in place, but his entire aura shifted from ’dark, brooding king’ to ’deeply offended Victorian gentleman.’

His brow furrowed into a prominent, confused line between his stormy eyes as he looked down at the top of her shaking head.

“Isabella?” he prompted, his voice dropping into a dangerous rumble that usually made grown men flee the room. “I fail to see the humor in our current predicament.”

Isabella finally managed to look up at him, her face flushed pink and her eyes shimmering with tears of laughter.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Lucian,” she wheezed, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye. “It’s just… was that you flirting? Was that a thousand-years-old pickup line?”

Lucian’s frown deepened, his jaw tightening as he drew himself up to his full, intimidating height.

“I was not ’flirting,’ as you so crudely put it. I was expressing a desire for intimacy following a period of significant emotional upheaval.”

“Oh my god,” Isabella giggled, making the ancient King feel every single one of his hundred years.

“You sound like a textbook. Lucian, people don’t say ’I would be better with a kiss’ while looming over someone like a beautiful, grumpy gargoyle. It’s so… dramatic! It’s like something out of those old black-and-white movies.”

“I am a King, Isabella,” he reminded her, his voice stiff with a wounded pride that was almost adorable.

“In my time, such a request would have been met with reverence, not… whatever this reaction is. And I am not a ’gargoyle.’”

“You’re a grumpy dinosaur,” she corrected him, her laughter subsiding into a wide, cheeky grin as she reached up and poked his chest—right over the fresh silk shirt.

“You’ve spent so much time being a legend that you’ve forgotten how to just be a guy. You can’t just stand there looking all ’dark and mysterious’ and expect me to not notice how cheesy that sounded.”

Lucian exhaled a long, tiring breath through his nose. He looked at her—really looked at her—with her messy hair and her modern attitude, and he felt the gap between them wasn’t just years; it was entire civilizations.

He was used to courtly love, to poetry and grand gestures that lasted for decades. She belonged to a world of instant gratification and sarcasm.

“You are a very difficult woman, Isabella,” he muttered, though the hardness in his eyes was beginning to melt into something softer, something that looked dangerously like affection.

“And you’re a very dramatic old man, Lucian,” she shot back, her grin softening into something more tender.

She stepped into the small space between them, her hands finding the hem of his shirt. “But… just because it was cheesy doesn’t mean it didn’t work.”

She stood on her tiptoes, her eyes searching his. The humor was still there, a bright spark in her gaze, but beneath it was the heat he had been searching for.

Lucian looked down at her, his ego still slightly bruised but his heart—or the ancient thing that took its place— was fascinated. “So,” he whispered, his voice losing its regal edge and becoming something much more intimate.

“This ’dinosaur’ still has a chance?” Isabella smiled, a real, soft smile that didn’t hide behind the joke.

“Shut up and kiss me, Lucian.” Lucian didn’t need to be told twice. A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned down, his large hand sliding from the island to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in the soft waves of her hair to tilt her head back.

“As you wish,” he murmured before he finally claimed her mouth in a possessive, bone-melting intensity.

Isabella let out a soft gasp that was quickly swallowed by the heat of the kiss. She melted against him, her hands wandering up from his waist to anchor themselves in the fine silk of his shirt, pulling him closer until there wasn’t a breath of air left between them.

The humor of the moment had evaporated, replaced by the raw friction that made her toes curl against the cold kitchen floor.

For Lucian, the sensation was overwhelming. The moment their lips met, the proximity to her pulsing jugular and the radiating heat of her Lycan blood began to trigger a reaction he had been desperately trying to cage.

He could feel the familiar ache in his gums. His fangs pricked at the sensitive tissue of his mouth, desperate to extend, to pierce, to finally taste the life-force that was singing such a sweet song against his chest.

The scent of her was an intoxicating drug that threatened to shatter his remaining shards of self-control.

His grip on her waist tightened, his thumb pressing into the soft dip of her hip with a force that was almost bruising.

He wanted to lose himself in her, to drown out the centuries of silence with the sound of her heartbeat, but the beast was clawing at the back of his throat.

Not now. Not like this. He willed his fangs to retract yet they didn’t, the feel of Isabella in his arms was making a mockery of his discipline. He could feel the blood-thirst rising more, making his vision flicker red.

Isabella, lost in the swirl of sensation, only felt the sudden intensity of his hold. Lucian let out a low growl against her lips.

He broke the kiss, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his breath coming in bursts. He stayed there, his forehead resting against her skin, his eyes squeezed shut as he forced the monster back into the shadows of his mind.

“Lucian?” Isabella whispered, her voice breathless and dazed, her hands still clutching his shoulders.

He didn’t move for a long moment, waiting for the red to fade from his eyes and the sharpness in his mouth to subside.

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