The door creaked softly as I stepped out, the cloak wrapped tightly around me. Its fur-lined edges brushed against my cheeks, still warm with the ghost of his touch when he had draped it over me. Beneath it, I wore only his shirt, far too large, the sleeves falling past my hands. I had tried the trousers, but they slipped from my hips no matter how I tied them. Too small in one world, too large in another.
Lucien’s head lifted as he set the last of the dishes on the wooden table. His gaze swept over me in silence, lingering not on my face but on the way I clutched the cloak as if my life depended on it.
Write a comment ...