Page 27 of A Touch of Darkness (Chronicles of the Cursed #1)

I linger in my empty classroom, the last of my students having filed out over half an hour ago. I’ve rearranged a few chairs under the pretense of tidying up, but really, I’m just trying to distract myself from the anticipation bustling through my veins. The fluorescent lights overhead cast long shadows across the polished floor, and the faint smell of chalk dust reminds me of how mundane this setting would be—if it weren’t for her.

Sylvie texted me a few moments ago to say she’s on her way. I lean against the large oak desk at the front of the room, trying to steady my thoughts. Ever since the day in the library—that day, when I let my guard down and kissed her, when I could no longer control the primal urge inside of me for her—it’s been an exercise in self-control not to seek her out every spare second. She’s been caught up in her new spellwork classes, and I’ve respected her space, telling myself it’s better she finds her own footing. But the distance has torn at me more than I care to admit. I finally have her back, but it’s not close enough.

Tonight, I decided I couldn’t wait any longer. I simply needed to see her… to speak with her. To touch her. The thought sends a soft ache through my chest, and I tighten my grip on the desk’s edge. I sent her a text message and asked her to meet me. I told her I wanted to see how her classes were going. It isn’t a lie. It just isn’t the full truth. I long to be near her in the worst possible way.

First, I feel her nearing. Then, I hear footsteps in the hallway before I see her shadow cross the threshold. Then the door opens, and she steps inside, cheeks flushed from the brisk walk—or maybe nerves. My heart lurches at the sight of her. The overhead light skims across her hair, and I realize in that moment just how much I’ve missed her presence.

“Hey,” she says, closing the door behind her. Her voice is quiet, small.

“Sylvie.” I nod and try for a calm smile. I’m not sure if I succeed. My pulse thrums in my ears, and I wonder if she can sense how thin my composure is. “Thanks for coming.”

She gives a small shrug, but there’s warmth in her eyes that wasn’t there before. “You asked me how my classes are going. I, um… appreciate you checking in.”

I gesture for her to join me near the desk. “I wanted to hear more about them—Spellcraft Fundamentals, Elemental Magic… it sounds like you’re learning a great deal.” And I want to know everything about you, always.

Sylvie nods, stepping closer, until there’s only a scant foot of space between us. “It’s been intense, but really exciting.” Her lips quirk into a hesitant, almost giddy smile. “In Spellcraft Fundamentals, we’ve been practicing protective wards nonstop. Professor Ambrose has us doing these exercises where we form a shield around ourselves or a partner. I’ve been teaming up with this girl, Marisol, and she told me she can actually feel my ward pushing back when she leans in. It’s not perfect, but it’s getting stronger every day.”

She lets out a soft laugh, the sound brimming with genuine enthusiasm. “Sometimes, I’ll catch these sparks of energy dancing on my fingertips—like static electricity. It’s such a rush. I never knew I could… I don’t know, generate that kind of power.”

Her eyes shine, and I feel her excitement in every word. She’s proud of herself—and she should be. “And in Elemental Magic,” she continues, “we just covered how to harness small bursts of energy from each element. So far, we’ve only done tiny stuff—like lighting a candle or stirring the air to create a gentle breeze—but the concept is the same. Focus on the element, channel it through intent and incantation, and let it resonate with your own energy.”

I notice her cheeks flush as she glances up. “I, uh, accidentally made the flame a little too big once,” she admits, laughing under her breath. “Had to snuff it out before it singed my sleeve. But Professor Roth was actually proud—she said it shows I have a lot of potential, just need to refine my control. I guess it’s normal.”

She tucks a stray hair behind her ear, eyes brightening further. “We’ve also started talking about the theory behind healing spells. Right now, it’s mostly reading and practice on, like, bruised fruit or wilting plants, but the idea that I might eventually be able to mend cuts or soothe fevers feels… incredible. I actually managed to revive a drooping fern in class the other day. It wasn’t, like, miraculous—the leaves stayed a bit brown—but it perked up enough that the professor was impressed.”

It's because you were a healer in your past life , I want to tell her, but I don’t. She healed me so many times back then. She was a natural. I expect her to be in this lifetime, too.

I can’t help but smile at the way she’s nearly glowing, her excitement as tangible as the faint hum of magic I sense in her aura. “You seem pleased,” I say quietly. “As you should be.”

Sylvie exhales, pressing her hand to her heart. “I really am. I guess I just never imagined I could do something like this—channel energy to protect people, possibly heal them. Even if it’s just a plant right now… it’s a start. And every time I manage a new skill, it’s like discovering this part of me I never knew existed.”

She gives a slightly self-conscious shrug, yet there’s no hiding the elation in her voice. “I guess that’s what you wanted for me all along, right? To realize my potential?”

My throat feels uncomfortably tight. “Yes.” I swallow. “And also, to see you safe.” It’s not the entire truth—my reasons for wanting her close run deeper than simple protection—but I don’t know how much I can say without scaring her away.

She shifts her weight, glancing around the classroom. “This place feels strange without anyone else here.” Then her gaze locks onto mine. I catch the faint tremor in her breath, and it sets my nerves aflame. “Intimate.”

The hint of a challenge in her voice stirs a thrill in me. “Yes,” I murmur. “It is.”

She wets her lips, and my eyes follow the movement, heat flaring low in my chest. Every second that passes, I feel our previous distance dissolving, replaced by the heady tension that’s always crackled between us—more potent since that kiss in the library.

“I’ve been busy,” she admits, her voice just above a whisper. “But not so busy that I forgot… what happened.” Her cheeks flush, and my heart jolts. “I wanted to talk about it, but I didn’t know how.”

She looks both vulnerable and determined, and I have to steel myself against the desire to close the space between us. “I was afraid I’d pushed you too far,” I say quietly, remembering how she’d gasped against my lips, how her pulse had thundered in time with mine.

She hesitates, then shakes her head. “You didn’t push me,” she replies, meeting my gaze. “I wanted it, Lucian. I still do.” Her eyes widen, as if she’s surprised herself by her admission.

A faint crack seems to run through my chest, equal parts relief and longing. The next words tumble out before I can fully think them through. “May I kiss you again? Because if I’m honest, it’s all I’ve thought about since that day.”

She exhales, a shaky sound that sends a spark of raw need through my veins. “Yes,” she murmurs. “Please.”

That single word shatters my restraint. In one short stride, I close the distance, one hand rising to cradle her jaw. My gaze flits between her beautiful eyes and her full, parted lips. Then, gently, I lean down. The instant our mouths meet, I feel that familiar rush, like every nerve in my body lights up. Like her very magic is flowing from her and into me. She tastes of so much possibility, and my heart clenches at the overwhelming need to hold her closer, to never let go. To not make a mess of everything this time.

Her fingers curl into my shirt, tugging me nearer. The kiss deepens, and for a long, unmeasured moment, we lose ourselves in the warmth and certainty of one another. Her soft sounds of approval fuel the hunger in my chest, and I have to force myself to slow down, to keep from devouring her entirely.

Eventually, we break apart, breathing hard. I keep my forehead pressed to hers, eyes half-lidded. My pulse roars in my ears, and I’m sure she can feel how tense I am beneath her hands.

“That was…” She trails off, a soft laugh escaping her. “God, I’ve been imagining that ever since the library.”

My lips curve in a slow smile. “So have I, if you couldn’t tell.”

“I could tell.” She laughs again, sweeter this time, and gently extricates her fingers from my shirt. “I guess we both needed this conversation.”

I straighten, letting one hand settle on her waist, reluctant to lose the contact. “Does this mean you won’t avoid me any longer?” My tone is lighter than I feel—because underneath it all, an ancient fear nags at me: that something or someone will tear us apart again.

She studies me, her gaze steady, her expression thoughtful. “I really wasn’t meaning to. But if I was, I don’t want to avoid you anymore,” she says firmly. “Everything’s so complicated, but… I don’t care. I want to figure it out. I’ve never…felt this undeniable pull before.”

A mixture of hope and doubt twist together in my chest. “I won’t pretend things aren’t dangerous,” I say, trailing my fingertips lightly along her side. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll help you face it.”

Her cheeks warm again, and for a moment, the gravity of our situation falls away, leaving only the two of us and the heady promise lingering in the space between. We might be surrounded by secrets and danger, but here, alone in this echoing classroom, we choose each other.

I cup her cheek, letting my thumb graze her lower lip. “Thank you for coming,” I say, voice husky with the emotions churning inside me. “For letting me see you.”

She tilts her head into my palm, eyes fluttering shut like she’s found a safe space within me. I don’t mind moving slow with her, giving her time to feel the way I do, the way I’ve felt for centuries. I may remember her, but she cannot possibly, and I know I need to give her time.

I’m just grateful to have her back—in any way she’ll allow.