Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother (Norah and Lucien) novel Chapter 196

Chapter 196

Norah’s POV

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Another flash of lightning tore through the pitch–black night, bleaching the world in a sudden, ghostly white.

In that stark, momentary glare, I saw Lucien’s face with perfect clarity.

The raw pain and regret in his eyes hit me like a physical blow, piercing straight through all my defenses.

Perhaps the absolute darkness had stripped away every pretense. Perhaps the thunder had shattered the last of my tightly wound control.

I couldn’t hold on any longer.

When the next deafening crack of thunder shook the very foundations of the villa, I stopped thinking. I just moved, throwing myself into his arms.

“Don’t leave me…” I clutched the cold, soaked fabric of his shirt, burying my face against his chest, greedily breathing in the familiar cedarwood scent that had always meant safety.

I didn’t sob aloud, but my body trembled violently against his.

All the betrayal, the hurt, the years of despair–in that moment, they turned into scalding tears, soaking into his shirt.

Lucien’s entire body went rigid with shock.

Then, his arms locked around me with crushing force, pulling me so tightly against him it felt as if he were trying to fuse us into one. He held me like that, as though clutching a world he’d lost and miraculously regained.

Outside, the storm raged on, wind howling and rain lashing the windows.

But inside, there was only the steady, strong beat of his heart and his scent surrounding me completely. The feeling brought a profound, aching comfort I hadn’t known in years.

I don’t know how much time passed before the nature of the embrace began to shift.

Lucien’s long–accumulated yearning, his doubt, his longing, and his pain all found a desperate outlet in the dark.

His hot breath fanned my hair; I felt the heart beneath my ear begin to hammer faster and faster.

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Chapter 196

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Then his kiss descended.

It carried the chill of the rain, yet was fiercely possessive. He wasn’t gentle. He kissed me, he bit

1. me.

“Mmm…”

I struggled at first, my hands pushing weakly against his chest, but the memory etched into my body was far more honest than my mind. Enveloped by his scent and his overwhelming presence, my resistance crumbled. Slowly, I began to respond.

This kiss was a battle, a brutal, wordless war. Yet it was also a form of salvation.

We bit each other’s lips, tasting salt–from tears or rain–and the faint, metallic tang of blood. As if only through this violent, primal act could we confirm the other was truly, physically here.

He lifted me effortlessly, carried me the few steps to the living room sofa, and laid me down into the soft cushions. I sank into them, boneless.

Before I could react, his tall frame covered mine. He pulled off my nightgown, then frantically tore at his own cold, wet shirt. The sound of ripping fabric was shockingly loud in the darkness.

When his searing hands made contact with my chilled skin, a violent shiver racked my entire body.

His hands roamed—kneading, pressing, claiming. Everywhere he touched burned as if branded.

“Lucien…” I breathed his name, my voice fractured, carrying a note of wounded vulnerability I didn’t even recognize.

He didn’t answer with words. He just kissed me more fiercely, his mouth moving to my collarbone, my neck.

Then he raised himself up slightly, resting his forehead against mine. Our scorching breaths mingled.

In the darkness, I couldn’t see his expression, only feel the violent tremors running through his powerful frame.

“Norah…” His voice was a ragged whisper. “Tell me about those three years…. please…”

His question was like a rusty key, twisting suddenly in a lock, unleashing a floodgate of pent–up grief inside me.

I closed my eyes. Tears and sweat mingled, tracing paths down my temples. I didn’t answer.

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Chapter 196

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Instead, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to me, holding him tightly.

My silence, and my tears, shattered the last of his control.

He let out a choked, guttural sound, half–groan, half–sob. Then he parted my legs and settled his weight between them. Without further hesitation, he entered me in one deep, claiming thrust.

He took me like a man possessed, in the most primal, raw way, marking me as his. I was like a small boat in a hurricane, tossed and slammed by wave after wave of sensation, dragged repeatedly to the precipice of pleasure only to be pulled into even deeper, darker depths of need.

It was a searing mix of pain and blinding pleasure, so intertwined they shredded my last shred

of reason.

BOOM-!

Another deafening thunderclap shook the villa. At that exact moment, he gripped my hips, slamming me hard against him, driving into me with all his strength–a final, deep, perfect penetration!

I cried out, my body convulsing violently around him, my toes curling. Lucien followed, finding his release deep within me.

As the passion finally ebbed, the storm outside softened to a gentle patter against the windows.

I lay limp on the sofa, my body feeling utterly dismantled and reassembled. I couldn’t move a finger.

He remained inside me, holding me close, his face buried in my neck, clinging like a lost child.

Then-

Without any warning, all the lights in the estate flickered back to life.

The sudden, bright, glaring illumination of the crystal chandelier instantly exposed the scene-

Shreds of clothing littered the floor.

The two of us, naked, tangled, and glistening with sweat on the sofa.

We were like two criminals caught in a spotlight, exposed, embarrassed, frozen.

“Let go of me.” The spell was broken. I shoved against his chest, my mind blank except for a

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Chapter 196

wave of pure shame and panic.

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Finished

I scrambled off the sofa, grabbing my torn nightgown from the floor to barely cover myself, and stumbled toward my bedroom without looking back.

BANG-

I locked the door, engaging the deadbolt, and leaned against the cold wood, sliding slowly to the floor. I buried my face in my knees.

Before long, I heard his footsteps approach my door. Then, the sound of someone sliding down to sit on the floor outside. His labored, pained breathing was just audible through the door.

The next morning, when sunlight streamed into the room, I finally opened the door.

He was still there, as I somehow knew he would be.

He was sitting on the cold marble floor, leaning against the wall opposite my door. He looked wrecked. His eyes were bloodshot, with deep, bluish–dark shadows beneath them, filled with boundless exhaustion.

“Norah,” he spoke first, his voice terribly hoarse. “We…”

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“Don’t.” I cut him off sharply, unable to meet his gaze. “Last night… just treat it as a transaction.”

I forced my voice to be as cold as the floor he sat on. “You said it yourself, remember? I’m just your mistress.”

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