[Ryntall Estate]
The carriage door creaked open as Lucien stepped out, dramatically flipping back his tousled black hair—just long enough to brush his neck—as if he were a prince emerging from exile.
"Ack—my spine," he groaned, arching his back with a stretch so exaggerated it could've won an award. "It feels like I've just taken my first breath in centuries! I think I died back there and came back as a ghost."
A warm hand slipped around his waist from behind, steadying him with casual possessiveness.
"You shouldn't jump out of carriages like that," Silas murmured close to his ear, his voice low and maddeningly gentle. "You'll jostle the baby."
Lucien froze.
He turned to look at Silas, lips parted in disbelief—and promptly made the mistake of locking eyes with his lips.
Those lips.
The lips.
From the kiss.
In the carriage.
Ten minutes ago.
(Not that he was counting.)
