Emily jolted awake, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The blaring sound of her mother’s screams shattered the quiet morning air, dragging her out of sleep. She looked around, disoriented, to find herself still in Lucian’s room. He lay beside her, his presence a stark contrast to the chaos outside. The cool light of dawn filtered through the tent’s fabric, casting a dim glow over the room.
“Emily! You filthy girl!” Her mother’s voice was shrill, filled with venom and rage. “You dare bring a man into your bed? How dare you!”
Emily’s blood ran cold. She threw off the covers and scrambled out of bed, her heart racing as she pulled on her clothes. Lucian was still asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, a peaceful look on his face that belied the storm brewing outside.
As she stumbled out of the tent, she was met with the sight of her mother standing at the entrance of the circus grounds, her face twisted in fury. The other workers had begun to stir, their curious eyes watching the confrontation unfold.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” Emily’s voice trembled as she approached her mother, trying to keep her own fear in check.
“Don’t you dare call me ‘Mom’!” her mother spat, her eyes blazing with a mix of hatred and disgust. “You’re nothing but a whore! Look at you, sleeping with that man!”
Before Emily could respond, her mother lunged at her, her hand striking Emily’s face with a sharp slap. The force of the blow sent Emily staggering back, her face stinging where the impact had landed. She tried to shield herself, but her mother was relentless.
“You think you can just abandon your family for this?” Her mother’s voice was filled with bile as she grabbed Emily by the hair, yanking her toward the entrance. “I should have known you’d bring shame upon yourself!”
Tears stung Emily’s eyes as she stumbled and fell, trying to protect herself from the onslaught. The workers watched in silence, their faces a mix of shock and discomfort.
“Get up, you disgrace!” Her mother’s voice was a harsh whip, each word punctuated by the force of her blows.
Emily tried to get to her feet, but her mother’s grip on her hair kept her down. “Please, stop,” she begged, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Her mother ignored her pleas, her fury unabated. “Sorry isn’t enough! You’re a stain on our family name!”
Suddenly, Lucian appeared at the edge of the commotion, his usually calm demeanor now masked by a cold, steely resolve. His eyes, though still striking with their mismatched colors, were now filled with an icy intensity.
“Enough,” he said, his voice carrying a weight that silenced the crowd.
His gaze was directed at Emily’s mother, but his tone was commanding, almost threatening. “You will leave this place at once.”
Emily’s mother turned to him, her face a mixture of surprise and defiance. “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?”
Lucian stepped forward, his presence imposing. “I am Lucian Blackwood, and you are trespassing. Leave now, or face the consequences.”
Her mother hesitated for a moment, the force of Lucian’s authority making her falter. But then, with a final, scornful look at Emily, she turned on her heel and stormed away, her anger fading into the distance.
The circus workers began to disperse, their eyes averted as if they were witnesses to something they wished they had never seen. The weight of the moment settled heavily on Emily’s shoulders.
Lucian approached Emily, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of her bruised face and disheveled appearance. “Are you alright?” His voice was gentler now, though a hint of tension remained.
Emily nodded weakly, her tears flowing freely now. “I’m… I’m fine. Thank you for intervening.”
Lucian’s eyes searched hers, a mix of sympathy and something darker flickering in his gaze. He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup her face, his fingers brushing against the bruises on her cheek.
“You shouldn’t have had to endure that,” he murmured, his voice almost a caress.
Before Emily could respond, Lucian pressed his lips softly against her bruised cheek, a gesture that was both tender and possessive. “Let me take care of you,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
He guided her back into his tent, his touch gentle yet firm as he helped her sit on the edge of the bed. His gaze lingered on her, a deep sadness mingling with the usual mischievous glint in his eyes.
Lucian reached for a small jar of ointment on the nightstand, his movements careful and deliberate. “Let me tend to those bruises,” he said softly, his hands trembling slightly as he applied the ointment to her injuries.
Emily flinched at the sting of the balm, but she did not pull away. Lucian’s touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he worked to soothe her wounds.
“You’re stronger than you know,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that was both comforting and unsettling.
Emily swallowed hard, her emotions a turbulent mix of gratitude and confusion. “I don’t know about that.”
Lucian’s fingers continued to work delicately over her skin, his touch lingering as if he was savoring the moment. “You survived this. You will survive anything.”
As he finished tending to her bruises, he leaned in, his lips brushing against her temple in a lingering, almost worshipful kiss. “You are so much more than what they see.”
Emily’s breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him, seeing the vulnerability behind his usual facade. “Thank you, Lucian. I don’t know what I’d do without... you.”
He smiled softly, a rare and genuine expression. “You won’t have to find out. I’ll be here.”
He sat beside her on the bed, his hand reaching out to gently hold hers. “You should rest. You’ve been through too much.”
Emily took comfort in his presence, her earlier fear and pain slowly ebbing away in the warmth of his touch. “I’ll be alright. I just… need some time.”
Lucian nodded, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding. “Take all the time you need. I’m here for you.”
He leaned closer, his lips brushing against her hair as he whispered, “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”
Emily nodded, a small, fragile smile on her lips. “Thank you, Lucian.”
He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning her face as if committing every detail to memory. “Rest now. I’ll be right here.”
As she lay back on the bed, Lucian remained beside her, his hand gently holding hers. The tenderness of his touch and the warmth of his presence offered a small comfort in the aftermath of the chaos.
****