Lucius smiled faintly, the kind of smile that spoke of secrets he wasn't ready to share. "You may not need me," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "But I need you, Pumpkin."
Jean stared at him, torn between the urge to scream at him and the unsettling warmth his words sparked within her.
The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the sound of her rapid breathing and the quiet creak of Lucius's chair as he leaned back, his presence as infuriatingly commanding as ever.
Lucius Drake sat beside Jean with a presence that was both unsettling and magnetic. His pale, angular face was a portrait of lethal beauty—sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, and lips that carried an almost mocking smirk.
His eyes, the color of deep crimson, glowed faintly under the dim light, holding a dangerous allure that made her pulse quicken despite her best efforts.