Once her crying faded into the distance, the room fell silent, filled only by the sound of the subsiding rain and the occasional crackle of the candle.
Lucian’s tense shoulders finally relaxed. He turned, the frost on his face instantly melting away, replaced by undisguised concern. He walked to the bedside and sat down next to Loyce.
“Why didn’t you dry your hair?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, a stark contrast to moments before. His rough fingers carefully brushed a damp strand from her cheek, his touch feather-light.
“Too tired. Didn’t want to,” Loyce murmured, rubbing her temples. “My head hurts.”
Lucian was silent for a moment before standing. “Finish the soup. I’ll be right back.”
Loyce, unsure of his intentions, slowly finished the soup. By the time the bowl was empty, the bedroom door opened again.
Lucian took the empty bowl from her hands, set it aside, and then wrapped her in a clean blanket that carried his unique scent. He lifted her from the bed and carried her out of the room.
“The nearby power station was struck by lightning,” he explained. “And the backup generator happened to be out of charge. The power will be out for the rest of the night.”
Leaning against his chest, Loyce was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. “Where are you taking me?”
A wave of warmth washed over her, and she knew exactly where she was. In the living room, a massive stone fireplace was blazing, its orange flames dancing and crackling, casting a warm, hazy glow across the spacious area.
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