The rain had thickened to a downpour, drumming relentlessly on the stained-glass windows of the Ravenshade Library. The manor's enchantments held off the storm, but the cold seeped in like a ghost, curling into corners and between the bookcases, wrapping itself around Elowen's fingers as she turned page after page.
She was deeply engrossed. Surrounded by floating candles and the scent of old parchment, she had lost herself in a world that suited her better than any ballroom or drawing room.
Her favorites were the books on nature.
Flowers that bloomed only once every hundred years. Mountains that whispered. Rivers said to carry forgotten memories. Trees with bark etched in living runes. But the sea… the sea fascinated her most.
She plucked a book from the nearest stack, its cover so beautiful it made her pause.
'Lochanmere's Enchantment '
The painting was vivid—a lakeside town surrounded by pines, mist crawling like fingers across the water. A place that looked peaceful but whispered of something haunted beneath its surface.
"Hmmm… this would be interesting," she murmured to herself.
She cracked it open. Ancient tales of lochs that lured sailors into dreams. Villagers who heard voices in the fog. Songs said to rise from beneath the waters on moonless nights.
She read. And read. And read.
She didn't even know when lunch time was ready. Housekeeper Jan walked into the library with a smile on her face.
"Engrossed in nature I see."
Elowen blushed.
Jan had walked in with a tray and kept it on the table. It contained peas, sliced apples and cheese adorned in beautiful shapes and captivating slices. There was a glass of wine that already having an ethereal aroma. The scent had reached Elowen's nostrils and dragged her from her books.
"Lunch is ready, Milady."
"Thank you so much, Lady Jan."
The housekeeper left Elowen to her food and she began to dig in, she had not realized that she was hungry till she started eating.
She finished eating and went back to her books, strangely enchanted by Lochanmere's charms, but she felt heavier now.
Until she didn't realize how time slipped past. Until thunder cracked across the sky like a whip.
Her eyes snapped open. She had fallen asleep, curled up on the velvet chaise, the book still open on her chest. A storm had crept in, casting long shadows across the towering shelves. The library was colder now, air sharp like breath on ice.
She was shivering. Trembling even.
And then—without a word—something warm and heavy draped over her shoulders.
Her eyes fluttered open fully, blinking away the sleep.
Julian.
He stood before her, shirtless save for his black trousers. His coat—the same obsidian one she had often seen him in—now lay across her shoulders, wrapping her in unexpected warmth.
His chest rose and fell steadily, muscles defined, the moonlight from the windows drawing subtle silver across his collarbones. His hair was slightly tousled. He didn't speak. He simply walked to the fireplace and lit it with a flick of his wrist.
She sat upright, still cocooned in his coat, unable to stop staring.
He returned, sitting across from her with a calm she didn't trust.
"Thank you, Lord Julian," she said softly, voice breaking the stillness like a pebble across water.
"I don't want you freezing in my library, Grantham," he replied, coolly. "And do away with the title, wildflower."
Her lips parted.
He was still cold in tone—but something had shifted. Something small but undeniable.
She hugged the coat closer, inhaling a scent that somehow felt like ink, earth, and thunder.
"Do you…" she hesitated, "Do you feel cold, Lord Julian?"
He turned his head slightly, amused.
"No. I am a pureblood. I am cold."
"Then… it is you who needs warmth."
His smile deepened at her innocent reply.
How she said such things with sincerity astounded him.
"I see," he drawled. "Is that you caring?"
"You're my employer, so I must care…" she mumbled, "And I'm not a bad person… unlike some."
He smirked. "You wound me, Miss Grantham."
She dared a small smile. "I'm just stating facts."
Her eyes wandered to a nearby collection of books. She stood and moved toward them, drawn like a moth to old parchment and mystery. Her gaze settled on a particular spine—Nature Beasts and Hidden Empires.
She reached up. Too high.
Stretching, she tried again.
But the shelf remained unyielding.
Then, suddenly—a hand. Long-fingered, strong, pale as marble.
Julian's hand.
He reached past her with graceful ease and retrieved the book effortlessly.
Her eyes followed his arm—up, up—until she turned back and realized how close they had become.
She was pinned between the shelf and his body. His tall frame hovered just slightly above hers, breath quiet but present. Warmth radiated—whether from her or him, she couldn't tell. Her pulse raced. The coat still hung around her shoulders, but it did little to muffle the electric buzz that had taken over the air.
She refused to meet his gaze.
Because that would mean looking up—past his bare chest.
Her eyes flicked to it. Big mistake.
His torso, exposed and defined, was somehow more intoxicating than any vampire's charm. She looked away, then back, then away again.
Julian tilted his head slightly.
"You're studying anatomy now?" he whispered with a mock-serious tone.
Before she could reply—
"Oops!"
A loud, overly-dramatic voice echoed from the doorway.
Seraphine.
She covered her eyes theatrically. "I definitely didn't see anything."
"Lady Seraphine!" Elowen stepped back quickly, flushed red. "No, no, no... nothing happened!"
Seraphine peeked through her fingers with a wide grin. "Oh, I believe you. Truly. Nothing ever happens when he's shirtless and pinning women to shelves."
"I wasn't—" Elowen started, but Seraphine was already spinning on her heels.
"I'll let myself out!" she sang. "Wildflower, you owe me tea."
And she vanished into the hallway.
Elowen pressed her back against the shelf, breathing unevenly. She didn't dare look at Julian, who now stood with one brow arched.
"Well," he said after a pause. "Now I do feel warm."