Ruelle's heart hitched at the look in Lucian's eyes, more than at the words he spoke or the grip on her hand, which had tightened and gone unnoticed by both of them.
Having spent enough time together in the same space, it was rare to see Lucian's eyes carry such an intensity that she couldn't look away. And though she seemed to be drawn towards it, she felt like if she got closer it would burn her.
"You don't…" Ruelle swallowed the tension forming in her throat.
Lucian's gaze did not leave her face. When he spoke next, it was low and controlled, too calm.
"Is that so?" he asked quietly. "Then tell me. Do you reach for anyone whose hair is wet?"
Ruelle finally realised how she had stepped into his space without his consent. She apologised, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable—I just saw the water dripping—"
"Uncomfortable?" Lucian repeated, his eyes darkening slightly.
