Chapter 34. Don’t Think About It

A pale orange light filtered through the thin curtains, casting faint lines across the small, cluttered room. The air was cool and silent except for the soft hum of a ceiling fan. Lucien’s eyes fluttered open slowly. For a moment, everything felt still—his mind blank, his body frozen.

Then it all came rushing back.

He gasped and sat up straight. His hand flew to his chest as his breathing picked up. His head ached. His body felt strange. But more than that, his memory was in flashes—strong arms, a heavy weight, the scent of alcohol and cologne, lips against his.

“ Sir Zayn...” he whispered.

Lucien looked down at the rumpled bed. The sheets were twisted, and warm. Zayn was no longer there. He touched his face, then ran a shaky hand through his messy hair. He slid off the bed and walked barefoot toward the small mirror on the wall. It was old, a little dusty at the edges, but it reflected enough.

He tilted his head, brushing his fingers over his neck. The