Page 68 of Goldflame
“That version of us doesn’t exist now. We can’t go back.”
“I know.” His fingers thread through my hair gently, as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear. “But I needed you to know… I’m sorry. For all of it.”
His words unlock something raw and desperate that I’ve kept chained for weeks. A sob builds in my throat, but before it can escape, Julian’s lips find mine again.
The kiss is different from the ones we shared in bed—hungrier, more urgent, as if he’s trying to pour every apology he can’t articulate into this single point of contact.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless. I press my forehead against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heart.
“I need your help,” he whispers into my hair. “I can’t take her down alone.”
“Take her down?” Surprised, I pull back to look at him.
“My mother. She’s dangerous. We need to stop her before she destroys anything else.”
Hope flutters in my chest—fragile but insistent. Is he really on my side now?
“You’d help me get revenge?” I ask, needing to hear him say it.
“Yes.” The word is firm. “For Adrian. For everything she’s taken from us.”
As I shift on the stool, my oversized sleep shirt slipsoff one shoulder, exposing the angry red cigar burn that Olivia left. Julian’s eyes lock onto it.
“What is that?” His voice is deadly quiet as his fingers hover over the mark without touching it.
I pull the fabric back up, covering the burn. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter right now.”
“Who did this to you?” He reaches for me again, but I lean back, wincing as the movement pulls at other burns hidden beneath my clothes.
“Julian, I don’t want to?—”
“Was it Lucas?” His jaw clenches, eyes darkening with rage.
The assumption is almost laughable, but I don’t correct him. I’m not ready to tell him his mother did this—not when our truce is so new and fragile. One revelation at a time.
“Please. I don’t want to talk about it now.”
“I’m glad you killed him.” His hand cups my face. “No one touches what’s mine.”
The possessive claim should anger me after everything, but instead it sends a shiver of warmth through my body. For weeks I’ve been nothing—not a person, not even human. Just a prop in Lady Harrow’s elaborate play. Being wanted, being claimed, feels like returning to my body after a long absence.
“I never stopped loving you,” Julian whispers, his voice breaking on the admission. “Even when I hated you, even when I thought you killed Adrian, I still loved you. And I’m so fucking sorry for what I did.”
The relief that washes over me is so profound, so overwhelming, that my body suddenly feels too heavy tostay upright. My shoulders hunch, and the room tilts at a strange angle. I’m falling, but Julian’s there, his strong arms catching me, pulling me against his chest.
“Aurelia?” His voice seems to come from far away. “What’s wrong?”
I try to answer, but my tongue feels thick and clumsy in my mouth, and the darkness at the edges of my vision grows deeper.
“Not feeling well?” he asks.
I shake my head.
He leans closer to my ear and says, “Good.”
I gasp. The world spins faster, the edges of my vision smearing into a dark blur as an ugly realization grips me.Oh god.The drink.
He drugged it.
