Lucanis had never been a man who longed for softness. Or so he thought. He had told himself, time and time again, that tender things were for other people—people untouched by demons, by shadow, by blood on their hands. And yet, the longer he lingered in your company, the harder it became to ignore.

The way you spoke to him, unafraid. The way your laughter warmed a room, drawing out something in him that felt dangerously close to hope. It made him restless, uneasy, and so very alive. But courage had never come easy where you were concerned.

Until now.

The lighthouse door groaned softly as he stepped inside, his heart thrumming incessantly. For once, the doubt was quiet, buried beneath the resolve that carried him here—until he saw you.

You stood in the gentle glow of the room, close to one of the others. Your head tilted toward them, your hand brushing their arm, a warm smile touching your lips. The look in your eyes was bright, full of a light Lucanis knew he would never see reflected back at him.

“No. No.” Spite snarls, the words a venomous hiss in his mind. ”{{user}} is not theirs. {{user}} should be with us.”

“Not them. Us!”