The Curse That Ruled Him
(Lucien's POV)
Lucien Blackwood did not hesitate.
The moment the heat tore through his chest—raw, blinding, impossible—every instinct he possessed surged to the surface. His wolf slammed against the walls of his control, furious and unyielding, its voice echoing through his blood.
She is threatened.
Lucien moved.
The city bent to his will in ways no human ever truly understood. One command sent his men flooding the streets. Another activated systems that tracked movement, territory, energy shifts invisible to ordinary eyes.
But Lucien did not wait.
He stepped into the night himself.
The cold welcomed him as he emerged from the tower, wrapping around his skin like an old companion. The rain hissed faintly against the pavement, evaporating where it touched him. His senses expanded, stretching outward, locking onto the thread he could now feel with terrifying clarity.
Her.
She burned like a beacon in the darkness.
Every step he took toward her sharpened the ache in his chest—the curse reacting violently to her presence even from miles away. Heat bled through the ice around his heart, fracturing something he had spent a decade perfecting.
Control.
You cannot have her, the curse whispered, ancient and cruel.
She is your undoing.
Lucien ignored it.
He followed the pull through alleyways and narrow streets, his movements silent, precise. By the time he reached the alley where the energy had spiked, the air was still vibrating with residual warmth.
Too much warmth.
His jaw tightened.
A human body could not generate that kind of force.
She was crouched against the brick wall when he saw her—small, shaken, her arms wrapped around herself. The glow had faded, but its echo clung to her skin like sunlight after dusk.
Relief struck him so sharply he almost staggered.
She was alive.
His wolf surged forward, demanding he close the distance, demanding he claim, protect, anchor.
Lucien forced it back.
He stepped into the alley, his presence asserting itself instantly. The world seemed to still around him, the cold reclaiming the space she had heated moments earlier.
Her head snapped up.
Their eyes met.
And for the first time since the curse was placed upon him—
Lucien felt fear.
Not the calculated awareness of danger he had lived with all his life.
But something deeper.
Personal.
"You're coming with me," he said, the words leaving his mouth before he had time to soften them.
Her heartbeat spiked—he could hear it, smell the sharp rush of adrenaline in her blood. She was terrified, but she didn't look away.
"I don't even know your name," she said.
The honesty of it struck him harder than any accusation.
Lucien hesitated.
Names carried power.
But lies would fracture the bond further, and he could not afford that.
"Lucien," he said. "And you're not safe anymore."
The warmth answered him instantly, brushing against his senses like a careful touch.
The curse screamed.
By the time they reached the car, Lucien's men had secured the area. The presence that had followed her was gone—retreated, not destroyed.
That bothered him.
He opened the door for her without thinking.
She stared at him for a moment, then climbed inside silently.
Lucien closed the door and rounded the car, his movements tight, controlled. As he slid into the seat beside her, the warmth flared again, subtle but unmistakable.
He clenched his jaw.
"You were followed," he said as the car pulled away. "You reacted."
"I didn't know how," she replied quietly. "I didn't even know I could."
Lucien studied her from the corner of his eye.
She looked fragile in the dim light—too thin, too tired, eyes shadowed by confusion and fear. And yet the power coiled inside her was anything but weak.
"You shouldn't have survived that encounter," he said bluntly.
She stiffened. "That's comforting."
He ignored the edge in her tone. "Whoever approached you was testing boundaries. Seeing what you are."
Her fingers curled into her sleeve. "And what am I?"
Lucien didn't answer immediately.
Because the truth was dangerous.
"You are connected to me," he said finally. "And because of that, you are now a target."
Her breath caught. "Connected how?"
The car turned smoothly into the underground entrance of his building.
Lucien met her gaze fully now.
"By something older than law," he said. "And stronger than choice."
The elevator ride was silent.
Lucien stood beside her, every sense attuned to her presence. The warmth pressed against him constantly now—not overwhelming, but persistent, eroding the ice he had built so carefully around himself.
He hated it.
He needed it.
The doors opened onto a private floor.
"This is where you'll stay," he said as they stepped out. "You will not leave without permission."
Her eyes flashed. "You don't get to imprison me."
"This isn't imprisonment," he replied evenly. "It's protection."
She laughed softly, without humor. "That's what powerful men always say."
The words struck closer to the truth than she knew.
Lucien led her into a suite prepared moments earlier—secure, comfortable, shielded. He stopped at the door.
"You will be safe here," he said. "No one will reach you."
"And you?" she asked. "Am I safe from you?"
The question froze him.
Lucien had faced witches, rival Alphas, and entire packs without flinching.
But this—
He met her gaze, his voice low. "I don't know."
The honesty cost him.
She nodded slowly. "At least you didn't lie."
Lucien turned away before the warmth could betray him further.
Because the truth was this:
The curse had not broken.
But it had begun to crack.
And if it shattered completely—
He didn't know what would remain of the man he had become.