Let Them Kneel (kaelani and Julian) novel Chapter 51

Her scent still lingered—honey, cinnamon, her—so vivid it clawed at his sanity. It filled the car, the air, his lungs. His pulse drummed as fragments of the dream—her body against his, the sound of her breathing, the brush of her lips—broke over him in relentless waves.

He dragged a hand down his face, fingertips pressing hard into his eyes as if he could scrub the images away. As if he wanted to.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he muttered, voice rough and strained.

The dreams were becoming too real—the warmth of her skin, the way she’d looked at him, the way she’d felt. The line between dream and reality was blurring, and he didn’t know where they began—or where she ended.

The sky outside was still painted in pre-dawn gray, the first hints of sunrise bleeding across the horizon. A cluster of missed notifications glared back at him—eight missed calls: two from his father, one from Jace, and five from Elara.

The last message blinked at the top of the screen, sharp and venomous:

Elara: You better have a damn good excuse for missing the rehearsal dinner.

Julian stared at it, jaw tightening as the illusion of that dream—of her—crumbled beneath the weight of reality slamming back into place.

He exhaled, long and low, and muttered under his breath, “Fuck.”

Julian looked toward the house across the street. The curtains were still drawn, a sliver of early light slipping between them. No movement. No sound. Just stillness.

It looked peaceful—quiet and untouched by the chaos that lived inside his head. For a fleeting moment, he wished he could stay like this, parked in silence with no one expecting anything from him.

He let his head fall back against the seat, eyes shutting as a heavy sigh escaped him. Everything felt tangled beyond repair—the ceremony, Elara, the lies, the dreams that bled into waking. He’d lost control somewhere along the way, and now he was caught between two worlds, neither one offering a way out.

The shrill vibration of his phone shattered the moment. He winced, jaw tightening, the sound grating through his skull. The last thing he wanted was conversation—or worse, confrontation.

Julian ran a hand through his hair, his tone remaining calm. “Elara can think whatever she wants.”

“Yeah, well, your father can’t,” Jace said. “He’s expecting you back now.”

Julian stared at the quiet house one last time before shifting the car into gear. “I’m on my way,” he said quietly. “I’ll deal with the mess.”

“Good,” Jace replied, though his voice softened slightly. “And Julian… try not to make it worse. And I don’t just mean for yourself.”

The line clicked dead.

Julian sat there for one more heartbeat, the engine idling, his pulse thrumming in sync with it—then he pulled away from the curb, the distance between him and her stretching wider with every turn of the wheel.