Page 17

Lilith made sure to look extra pretty today.

She sat at the edge of her bed, the morning light slipping through her curtains in gentle slants, and began straightening her long hair with the kind of precision that felt obsessive.

Every natural wave was hunted down and silenced, pulled smooth until her hair fell like a curtain of silk around her shoulders.

She stared into the mirror with a steady hand, dragging glitter across her eyelids, making them shimmer just right.

Then came the lashes. The old ones were bent and brittle at the edges, like they had seen too much. She tossed them into the bin without ceremony and reached for a new pair.

At one point, her hand froze—brush midair—as the thought flickered through her.

Would Valentina Salvatore find this tacky?

She had only ever seen Valentina in makeup, but it was always subtle.

Gentle. Barely there. A soft contour to bring warmth to her already sharp cheekbones, like the sun had kissed her face and decided to stay.

A clean swipe of mascara. A neutral lipstick that never demanded attention, but always held it.

Lilith wondered how she looked without it.

But even if Valentina thought her makeup was overdone—too glittery, too much—Lilith would still wear it. Because without it, she looked like a ghost who had forgotten how to haunt. And not the poetic kind either. Not the beautiful, melancholic figure who lingers with meaning. Just an ugly one.

She made sure not to press her cheek into Gabrielle's hoodie while they were cuddled up during lectures, even though the scent of her perfume and laundry detergent made her feel safe.

Gabrielle's shoulder had always been a quiet place for Lilith's brain to rest. But today, she couldn't risk the smudges.

Most importantly, she made sure not to fall asleep.

She had taken too much hydroxyzine in the morning. Way more than she usually would. It made her limbs heavy, her eyelids droop, her thoughts move slow like syrup. But that was the whole point.

It was easier to fight sleep than it was to fight panic. Easier to force herself to keep her eyes open than to spiral about meeting Valentina again.

At one point, Lilith considered stopping by Olivia and Daniel's place for Xanax. Just a quick fix. She almost convinced herself it was a good idea. Just one pill, and she could breathe again.

But before she could make the decision, Gabrielle smacked the back of her head gently—just enough to make Lilith change her mind.

Gabrielle always knew. She knew when Lilith was slipping, when the weight of everything she tried to carry became too much, when Lilith tried to chase a temporary escape.

It was something they did often, Gabrielle and her—find solace in places that weren't always healthy, weren't always good decisions.

Tonight, though, Lilith wouldn't be going there. Meeting Valentina was far more thrilling than anything Olivia and Daniel's place could offer her.

By the time the last lecture ended, the sky had already dipped into twilight, the colors of the day fading away in the kind of gentle surrender that made the evenings feel like something to hold onto. The days were getting shorter.

She stepped outside, eyes scanning the now-darkening campus, and then—there it was. The sleek, black Audi RS7 parked in the lot, waiting. The kind of car Gabrielle always said she'd sell her soul for.

The car was nice.

But the woman inside it?

She was nicer.

Lilith paused, a slight smile playing at her lips.

If she had to be honest, the day she'd get her driver's license would probably be her last one. She still remembered the infamous attempt at learning—Oscar's brilliant idea to teach her in an empty parking lot.

Except it wasn't entirely empty.

She had almost killed herself, her brother, and some poor soul who just happened to be strolling across the lot at the exact wrong time. Oscar was screaming while Lilith had her hands gripping the wheel like she was about to launch the car into space.

Now they laughed about it—wheezing, tears-in-their-eyes kind of laughter every time someone brought it up.

Their dad, though? He still shook his head every time the story came up, muttering about irresponsibility and near-death experiences.

Seventeen-year-old Lilith hadn't found it funny. Especially when her father refused to speak to her for an entire week afterward.

Thankfully, the car she was "driving"—or rather, attempting to operate-was Oscar's.

If it had been their father's?

She wouldn't be alive to tell the story.

She stepped into the car. Inside, Valentina sat in perfect stillness, her finger tapping slowly—rhythmically—against the steering wheel. It wasn't impatient. It wasn't restless.

It was...attractive.

The woman's hands were so attractive.

Valentina's scent was everywhere, wrapping around Lilith like heat. The usual hint of oud and cashmere she tried so hard to ignore was now overwhelming, saturating the small space with something impossibly seductive.

Lilith swallowed down the nerves bubbling in her chest and whispered a gentle, "Hi," careful to close the door as delicately as possible.

Her father had screamed at her enough times for slamming them too hard. The memory clung to her.

Valentina turned her head with quiet precision, nodding once at Lilith in acknowledgment. Her voice was low, calm, and completely unwavering.

"Seatbelt."

It wasn't really a request. It was an order.

Lilith obeyed. She buckled the seatbelt in one swift, obedient motion and then folded her hands in her lap like a schoolgirl in detention, her gaze flicking sideways as the car began to move.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice soft, almost testing.

"You'll see." Valentina answered, not bothering to meet her eyes.

And that—more than anything—bothered Lilith.

She was used to Valentina's gaze. The way it burned. The way it looked straight through her, like her thoughts weren't even safe inside her head.

But now, with those pretty sharp green eyes focused on the road, Lilith felt the absence like a hand pulled away too soon.

She frowned, barely, the corners of her mouth tugging downward as she looked around the interior instead. The car was sleek. Like Valentina herself.

There were barely any personal things—just a single black pen, a tube of expensive lipstick, and Valentina's phone resting silently between them.

The soft red LED lights glowed from the dashboard and side panels, casting the whole space in a strange sort of warmth.

She tilted her head and asked, quietly, "Are you able to change the color?"

A small, distracted hum left Valentina's throat. "Hmm?" she murmured, glancing over briefly to see what Lilith was staring at.

Then a nod.

"Yes," she said simply.

Without further explanation, she extended a hand toward the control panel and brought up the settings. With another tilt of her chin, she gestured at the screen—silent permission.

Lilith stared at the glowing interface, fingers hesitating above it.

She could choose.

Change something.

Touch something of hers.

Something about that made her chest ache in the nicest, most dangerous way.

Lilith's fingers skimmed the screen delicately, like she was afraid of pressing the wrong thing-even though there was no real consequence. Just colors.

She slid through them slowly-blue, green, violet, yellow—with a small, crooked smile playing on her lips.

The car subtly transformed with each choice, wrapping itself in different shades like a mood trying to decide how to feel.

Eventually, she landed on pink. A soft one.

The kind that didn't scream for attention but still made everything kinder.

She pressed it and let it stay.

Then she backed out of the menu, tracing the same steps Valentina had taken, trying to follow them exactly. She didn't want to be clumsy in her space.

From the driver's seat, Valentina let out a soft laugh. It wasn't loud or mocking. Just amused.

Lilith felt her body sink back into the seat in relief. She hadn't even realized she was holding herself so stiffly until that moment.

It was always like that around Valentina. She didn't know how to relax until the woman gave her permission, not with words, but with mood—an atmosphere that told her what was safe to feel.

"You don't like pink, Miss Salvatore?" she asked, her tone sweet, teasing just enough to draw attention.

Valentina raised an eyebrow at the Miss, a flicker of something sharp and amused passing through her eyes.

"I didn't say that," she replied smoothly. "It suits you."

Lilith smiled, genuine and unguarded.

"It's my favorite."

She hesitated, then tilted her head curiously.

"Is red yours?"

The question was so simple-too simple—but sincere.

Valentina hummed, considering it for a breath before nodding once.

Lilith liked her nods. They were deliberate. Certain. Like she never said anything she didn't mean.

"How was your day at the university?"

Such a mundane question. But when it came from Valentina Salvatore, it felt tender. Intentional. Like being asked mattered.

"Good," Lilith answered, her voice brightening. "Gabi's a little mad that you're stealing me though."

It felt light in the car. Safe.

"Stealing you?" Valentina repeated, arching a brow again-but this time her tone carried something silkier, unreadable. "I'm not the one who wanted to talk."

Lilith's smile faltered.

It dropped quietly, like a petal falling from a flower that had bloomed too early.

She suddenly felt like an intruder-like a guest overstaying her welcome in a house that never really opened the door. An inconvenience. Her stomach twisted lightly.

She hadn't meant it like that. Of course it was her who wanted this, not the other way around. Valentina had agreed, sure—but that didn't mean it mattered to her. And Lilith didn't want to seem like she believed it did.

"Oh-yeah, I just meant that-" she started, stumbling fast over her own words, her voice rushing to fill the air.

But Valentina cut her off softly.

"Calm down," she said, the corners of her mouth lifting into something close to a smirk, but her voice was steady. "I know what you meant."

And just like that, the anxiety unclenched.

It wasn't gone, but it loosened, retreating like a tide.

Then Valentina added, "Besides, I don't mind stealing you if it means you not getting drunk."

Her voice dipped into something gentler now, eyes flicking sideways just long enough to catch Lilith's expression.

"Or were the plans different?"

Lilith giggled, a little caught, a little flustered.

"Um... well..." she trailed off unable to finish the sentence with anything that didn't make her sound like a mess.

Maybe she would've ended up at Olivia and Daniel's. Maybe she would've begged Gabrielle to let here take something stronger. But right now, none of that felt important.

"I guess then you're saving a girl from becoming an alcoholic," Lilith laughed softly, the sound light but genuine.

Valentina didn't respond. She pulled the car smoothly to the side of a quiet street and unbuckled her seatbelt. Lilith blinked and took that as a sign-they were here. She followed suit, stepping out of the car, and—

Her eyes widened.

It looked like a castle. Not the fake, tourist kind, but a towering, shadow-kissed structure pulled straight from the pages of an old gothic novel.

Dark stone walls reached high into the sky, with pointed arches and ivy climbing along the edges.

It looked like it had its own story, one written in whispers and candlelight.

Valentina was already walking over, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. She smiled faintly at Lilith's expression—but before Lilith could voice the awe curling in her chest, Valentina had already turned, striding toward the entrance.

Even in heels, she moved with such ease, such quiet command. Lilith hurried after her, a little flustered as she tried to match the woman's pace, her boots tapping awkwardly behind.

Valentina reached the tall, ornate doors first and held one open for her. Lilith stepped in without saying thank you-not because she was rude, but because her breath had left her entirely.

It was beautiful.

Warm, golden light kissed the air, casting soft halos over the sculptures and paintings that lined the walls.

Unlike the sterile whiteness of most galleries, this one breathed.

It glowed. The ceilings arched like cathedrals, and the walls, draped in rich tones, cradled the art like treasure.

Every piece had its own space, its own small, golden light focused just so—like it was telling you to stop, just for a moment, and feel.

It felt like a dream. Like walking into a Hogwarts corridor lit by magic.

Valentina stepped up to the man standing at the entrance and exchanged a quiet word. Of course they needed to pay to go further—but Lilith figured Valentina didn't.

"Is this... your..." Lilith started, not knowing how to word it.

Valentina was already leading her deeper in, past the desk and into the heart of it. "My project," she answered calmly. "I designed it. Picked the art."

Lilith turned to her, visibly impressed. "It's so beautiful."

She didn't know where to look-every corner had something rich and evocative waiting to be seen. Her eyes flicked from glowing sculptures to oil paintings that looked like they had secrets buried inside them.

Valentina walked with a quiet, anchored pride, and Lilith followed, drawn to her as much as to the space around them. She tilted her head back to look at the vaulted ceiling and said softly, "I feel like I'm in a Harry Potter movie."

Valentina let out a soft, amused breath. "Harry Potter?" she asked.

Lilith giggled, her cheeks pink. "Would it be horrible to say those are my favorite movies?"

Valentina didn't tease her. She just smiled, slow and warm, as if the answer made perfect sense. "No. I get it."

Nothing in the world, absolutely nothing, had ever made the blonde girl feel quite as comforted as curling up with a Harry Potter movie on a cold night.

?

It wasn't boring.

Not even a little. Lilith had expected the usual gallery experience—polite silence, meaningless nods at abstract pieces she couldn't name the emotions of. But this? This was something else. It wasn't plain or distant. It was layered, almost personal.

There were a few people there too, scattered and quiet, the kind who looked like they belonged—art students maybe, or locals who came often enough to no longer stare. Their presence didn't make the space feel public. If anything, it felt more private.

She moved slowly through the space, gaze brushing over the paintings and sculptures. But if she was honest with herself... her eyes kept drifting elsewhere.

The walls—how they absorbed the soft lighting. The ceiling—how it arched, old and poetic, almost chapel-like. The wide stairs, carved and dark, leading up into more mystery. There was something sacred in the architecture, in how the place cradled silence without swallowing it.

She caught herself looking more at the building than the art.

Because Valentina had made this.

This entire, breathing, mood-lit dream had once lived in her head—and now it stood here, tangible and velvet and humming with soft jazz in the background.

Jazz.

Lilith smiled softly to herself. Of course. That smooth, low music curling in the corners of the gallery-it was so Valentina.

They didn't speak.

Lilith wandered, and Valentina let her.

The woman's gaze followed her as she walked, never in a way that felt heavy or demanding. Just... present. Watching. As if Lilith's way of seeing this place mattered.

The short blonde stopped in front of a painting tucked near the corner of one hallway.

It wasn't bright or showy. Just shadows, shapes, and a dark blue night.

The sky took up most of the canvas, but in the foreground, silhouettes stood still—people, maybe, or ghosts.

They looked up at the moon with longing in their invisible faces, the silver light brushing them as though blessing their stillness.

Lilith tilted her head, caught.

Then—

Valentina leaned in behind her.

Her voice was soft, close, a murmur against the shell of her ear.

"If you stare at it long enough, they might start talking to you."

The words came close—too close—and Lilith jumped softly at the sound, at the nearness of Valentina's voice right beside her ear. Her heart skipped in that quiet way it did when something both startled and thrilled her.

She turned around, lips pushing into a pout. "Do I need to say a special word?" she asked innocently, eyes glimmering as she played along.

Valentina looked down at her, gaze sharp but amused.

"You might have to beg," she whispered.

Then she was already walking away, heels echoing softly against the stone as she started toward the stairs.

Lilith stood there for a second, heart thudding with something entirely unholy. Because she would beg.

Not for the painting.

For the woman.

Still flushed, she followed, gaze rising to the large staircase ahead. It curled upward like something pulled out of a fairytale—ornate, dark, and impossibly elegant.

"If it starts moving, I'm suing," she said, half-laughing, half-whispering.

Valentina laughed, a low, warm sound that echoed back without force. "Don't worry," she said mockingly, but her voice was playful enough to cradle the joke gently, "it only moves for the worthy."

The brunette took the first step.

And Lilith couldn't help but follow-hands brushing the railing, eyes watching the way the light caught in the strands of Valentina's hair.

As Valentina slowed her pace, letting Lilith catch up and walk beside her, Lilith's curiosity bubbled to the surface.

"Are you here often?" she asked, voice soft but inquisitive. She couldn't help but wonder if Valentina brought a lot of people here, showing off the place like some secret she was guarding.

"Not really," Valentina replied, her voice calm but thoughtful. "I fear I would just stare at the ceiling thinking about how the project could be better."

Lilith's response was quick, almost too eager. "It's perfect."

Valentina's lips curled into a soft, approving smile as she glanced over at her. "I'm glad you think that, sweetheart."

And Lilith couldn't help but wonder if that was part of Valentina's goal for tonight—to fluster her as much as possible. The woman was succeeding far too well for Lilith's liking.

"Why art gallery?" Lilith asked, genuinely curious, trying to steer the conversation to something a little less... electrifying.

"The only thing that suits my work is art," the woman said, her tone calm, but carrying an undeniable confidence.

Lilith loved confident women. It was refreshing, and it felt true in this case—Valentina's entire presence, the building, the air they breathed together-it was all art, perfectly crafted. She could only nod, appreciating the weight of the words.

"Come on," Valentina said, tilting her head toward a room that looked more like a chamber than anything else.

Lilith, unable to resist, grinned mischievously. "The Chamber of Secrets?"

Valentina turned to her, a soft laugh escaping her lips, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Something like that," she said, her voice dipping into something playful, almost inviting. "Come see for yourself."

The dark haired woman opened the door with a quiet strength, the heavy wood groaning slightly on its hinges. And just like with the building's entrance, she didn't step in first. She held the door open, letting Lilith walk into the unknown ahead of her.

The darkness swallowed Lilith at first.

Not complete black—but thick, velvet shadows, with only pools of gold flickering from vintage candlesticks fixed to the stone walls.

The flames swayed gently, casting trembling light over marble and bronze.

Sculptures of women-naked, soft, powerful—stood silent.

Each one different. Some scarred. Some curled inward, shielding themselves.

Some standing tall, unafraid. Breasts covered by arms or left bare in defiance. It wasn't erotic. It was reverent.

But the one thing Lilith didn't want to do was fall flat on her face in this holy, sacred-feeling space.

Her foot caught the edge of something.

"Careful," Valentina murmured from behind, her voice velvet-dark like the room.

A hand-warm, firm—wrapped gently around Lilith's waist.

The air was colder in here, but Lilith could feel the heat of Valentina's palm, her thumb resting lightly just above her hipbone. She didn't move, didn't breathe for a second.

It felt intimate.