Page 114 of Wisteria and Cloves
“No.” Miles smiled faintly, and it was the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We fight by thriving.” He stepped closer, voice dipping lower, every word precise and weighted. “You arenotbroken. You arenotfragile. And you arenotthe version they’ve tried to convince the world you are. You’re stronger than they ever imagined. And that terrifies them.”
Julian leaned in, pressing a kiss against my temple with a softness that undid something in me. “They’re going to realize too late that they never really knew you at all.” The silence that followed didn’t feel heavy anymore. It felt… peaceful. Full.Like something sacred had just been spoken and needed time to settle.
Christopher stood, stretching with a groan, his tone gentler now. “You should rest. We’ll meet with Mara in the morning and review next steps. But for tonight? Just breathe, Lilianna. Let yourself be. We’ve got you.”
I nodded slowly, the motion small but certain. “Okay.”
Julian stood with me, his hand in mine, warm and solid like a lifeline. As we made our way toward the stairs, Nicolaus called out softly behind us. "Lilianna." I turned back, one foot already on the bottom step. He had set his tablet aside completely now, his analytical mask slipping just enough to reveal something more vulnerable underneath.
"For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I've spent years studying human behavior, analyzing patterns and motivations. I've never seen anyone break free from that kind of psychological conditioning as cleanly as you have. It's... remarkable."
The compliment hit me unexpectedly, warming something deep in my chest. Coming from Nicolaus, who chose his words with surgical precision, it felt like the highest praise imaginable.
"Thank you," I whispered, the words carrying more weight than they should have. Julian squeezed my hand gently, guiding me up the stairs, now feeling lighter than I did when we arrived home.
Chapter Forty-Two
Lilianna
We stopped at the door, my eyes glancing to Julian who was looking at me with dark eyes. The hallway felt charged with electricity as we stood there, my hand still in Julian's. The soft lighting cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the intensity in his hazel eyes that had darkened to something deeper, more primal.
"Lilianna," he said quietly, my name rough on his tongue. His free hand came up to cup my face, thumb tracing along my cheekbone with reverent slowness. "You said you wanted more, but nothing has to happen tonight. You can go to bed if you want.” He took a deep breath. "I don't want to rush you," Julian continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I also don't want to pretend I'm not affected by you. By this." His thumb brushed across my lower lip, and I felt my breath catch at the gentle contact.
I leaned into his touch, my heart hammering against my ribs. "What if I don't want to go to bed alone?" I asked softly, the words escaping before I could second-guess them. "What if I want to stay with you?"
His eyes searched mine intently, looking for any sign of uncertainty. "Are you sure? After everything we just discussed downstairs—"
"I'm sure," I interrupted, my voice steadier than I felt. "They've controlled enough of my life. They don't get to control this too."
Something shifted in Julian's expression—surprise melting into something warmer, more possessive. "Lilianna," he breathed, stepping closer until I was pressed gently against my bedroom door.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice strained. "Because once I have you in my arms, once I taste you properly, I don't think I'll be able to let you go." The possessiveness in his voice should have frightened me, but instead it sent heat spiraling through my core. I'd never been wanted like this—with such intensity, such reverence. It was intoxicating.
"I don't want you to let me go," I whispered, my hands coming up to rest against his chest. I could feel his heart racing beneath my palms, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
Julian's control snapped. His mouth crashed against mine with a hunger that stole my breath, his hands tangling in my hair as he pressed me more firmly against the door. This kiss was nothing like the gentle exploration at the conservatory—this was raw need, barely contained desire that made my knees weak.
I melted into him, my body responding with an eagerness that surprised me. Every nerve ending felt alive, hypersensitive to his touch. When his teeth grazed my lower lip, I gasped, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he deepened the kiss.
"Inside," he growled against my lips, his hand fumbling for the door handle behind me. "Now."
We stumbled into my room, Julian kicking the door closed behind us before spinning me around and pressing me against it once more. His hands roamed over my body with reverent hunger, mapping every curve through the soft fabric of my dress.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips trailing down my neck to find the sensitive spot where it met my shoulder. "So perfect."
I arched into him, my fingers clutching at his shirt as waves of sensation crashed over me. Everything felt heightened—his scent surrounding me, the heat of his body against mine, the way his breath ghosted across my skin.
"Julian," I breathed, his name a prayer on my lips. His lips stilled against my throat, and I felt him inhale deeply, taking in my scent. When he lifted his head, his eyes had darkened, pupils dilated with desire.
“Tell me what you need," he said, voice rough with desire. "Tell me what you want."
"I don't know," I confessed, my hands still gripping his shirt. "I just know I need more of this. Of you."
Something softened in his expression even as his body remained tense against mine. "We'll go slowly," he promised, his forehead resting against mine. "Just tell me if anything feels too much."
I nodded, unable to find words as his fingers traced the curve of my waist, leaving trails of heat through the fabric of my dress. When his lips found mine again, the kiss was deeper, more deliberate—like he was memorizing me.
My hands slid up to his shoulders, feeling the coiled strength beneath his shirt. He was holding back
