Chapter 11: A Place of Solitude
The night outside was dark, heavy with the scent of rain that had begun to fall in light sheets. The soft hum of the ballroom seemed miles away as Seraphine guided Kian through the quiet corridors of the mansion, her steps measured, yet purposeful.
Kian's vision was still clouded by the drug, and his movements were slow, but there was something about her—something in the way she carried herself that drew him in. Her presence, unwavering and calm, gave him an odd sense of stability amidst the disorienting fog in his mind.
She didn't speak at first, only led him through the labyrinth of grand halls, the cold, distant elegance of the mansion surrounding them.
Kian didn't understand what was happening. He didn't know why he felt so tethered to her. There was an inexplicable pull, a sense that he was on the verge of losing himself—and yet, he couldn't bring himself to care. All he wanted was to be near her.
When they reached the door at the far end of the corridor, Seraphine paused, her hand resting lightly on the handle. The soft click of the door opening reverberated in the silence. She stepped into the dimly lit space, and Kian hesitated for a moment before following her.
The moment he entered, the weight of the mansion's grandeur seemed to fade away. The room was cozy, with warm lighting and simple, intimate furnishings—a sharp contrast to the cold, impersonal halls of the Vasiliev estate. This was different. This was not for show, not for anyone else's eyes. It was a space meant only for her.
"This is my place," Seraphine spoke quietly, her voice almost distant as she moved deeper into the room, her gaze flicking over the space as if checking it was as it should be. There was no hint of vulnerability in her words, no hesitation. She spoke of this space like it was just another fact in her life—something that wasn't particularly significant, though for someone like her, it was.
Kian blinked, his mind still foggy, and took in the simple elegance of the room. The walls were lined with dark wood, and the furniture was minimal but luxurious—everything about it seemed like it belonged to someone who had little need for the approval of others. It wasn't cold like the rest of the mansion; instead, it felt... safe.
"Your private house," he muttered, though he didn't know why he said it. It wasn't like he cared about where she went, or what she did.
Seraphine didn't acknowledge his words directly, but her eyes shifted toward him, her lips parting slightly as though she was deciding whether or not to explain further. But she didn't. She simply nodded and moved toward the sitting area near the large windows, which offered a breathtaking view of the sprawling garden outside.
"This is the one place," she said, her voice steady, "that no one knows about. Not even my parents."
Kian's heart gave an unexpected lurch, his chest tightening in a way he couldn't explain. He wanted to ask more, but the fog in his head made it difficult to focus, difficult to understand his own thoughts. He wasn't sure why hearing that made something inside him stir—was it curiosity? Or something deeper?
Seraphine didn't offer any further explanation, simply gesturing for him to sit. Her movements were fluid, controlled—everything about her was composed, like she was still in charge of everything around her, including him.
As Kian moved to sit, something shifted within him. He had been in countless rooms, countless settings, but none of them felt quite like this. This place wasn't just a house; it felt like a secret, something buried deep within her, a side of her that no one else had seen or understood. And it was that secrecy—no, that unspoken invitation—that made it feel all the more intimate, all the more real.
Seraphine didn't look at him directly as she moved across the room, but he could feel the weight of her gaze on him, even without meeting his eyes. It was as if she was waiting for him to do something—waiting for him to react. But Kian couldn't make sense of his own thoughts, let alone hers. The only thing that seemed to matter now was the way his pulse raced, his heartbeat thudding in his chest every time his gaze drifted toward her.
For a moment, everything felt still.
It was as though time itself had stopped, leaving just the two of them, suspended in the quiet. The drug still clouded Kian's thoughts, but it didn't stop the way his body reacted to her. He didn't know what it was—this pull he felt toward her. It was more than attraction; it was something deeper, something visceral.
And then, as if a switch had been flipped, Kian was standing again, moving toward her, compelled by some invisible force. He couldn't explain it, didn't even care to try. He just knew that something inside him—some part of him—was drawn to her, and he couldn't fight it anymore.
His hand reached out, trembling slightly, and he stopped just before touching her shoulder. His breath hitched. He had never touched a woman before, not even held hands, other than his mother's. The idea of it was foreign to him, yet here he was, standing on the precipice of something he couldn't understand.
He stepped closer, the air between them thick with tension, and before he could stop himself, his lips brushed against hers. It wasn't slow, and it wasn't careful. There was no hesitation in the press of his mouth, no calculating distance—just a deep, instinctual need to be close to her. He had no experience with kissing. No experience with anything that wasn't his mother's touch. But in that moment, it didn't matter. His heart was pounding violently against his chest, and he felt a rush of heat course through him, something powerful and overwhelming.
Seraphine didn't pull away. She didn't protest. Her lips were still, at first, her body stiff under his touch. But then, as though slowly unraveling, her shoulders relaxed, and she leaned into him, her mouth parting slightly as he deepened the kiss. It wasn't the kiss of a man who knew what he was doing—it was desperate, hungry, and raw. There was no elegance to it, no softness. It was the kiss of someone who was lost and needed to be found, who didn't know what he was doing but couldn't stop himself from doing it anyway.
Kian's heart thudded louder, the noise deafening in his ears as his mind raced. He had never kissed anyone before—had never wanted to. But now, with her, it felt like a primal urge he couldn't control, couldn't contain.
When they finally broke away, both of them gasping for air, Kian stood frozen. His heart felt as though it had never been still, like it was vibrating in his chest. He hadn't expected the rush, hadn't anticipated how his body would react. How her lips, so soft and yet so commanding, would feel against his.
Seraphine blinked up at him, her face unreadable, but her eyes... her eyes were dark, like a storm brewing in the distance.
"That was my first kiss," she said quietly, the words almost a whisper.
Kian's breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening as the meaning of her words settled over him.
"Mine too," he said hoarsely, his voice low, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.