Revenge amnesia upgraded to his brother novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The sleek black Valkyrie came to a smooth stop at the very edge of the mountain’s lookout point. The night air was crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and distant earth. Inside the car, the only sounds that filled the space were the uneven rhythm of our breaths and the rapid beating of our hearts, both still racing from the adrenaline of the drive.

Lucien turned his head toward me, his gaze sharp and cold, eyes glinting with a fierce intensity. “Scared?” His voice was low but carried the unmistakable thrill of triumph.

I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “No. It’s exhilarating.” My eyes drifted to his hand wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, fingers flexing with quiet power. “You… you’re incredible.”

A subtle movement of his Adam’s apple preceded a soft sound escaping his lips—half a sigh, half a growl of satisfaction. Then, without warning, he slipped off his seatbelt, his tall frame leaning over me, pressing down with an irresistible force. His mouth found mine, hot and demanding.

His tongue pushed past my lips, tasting of whiskey and smoke, flooding my senses so completely that the world outside the car seemed to vanish. His large hand traced the curve of my neck, the roughness of his fingertips sending shivers racing down my spine.

“Just incredible?” he whispered against my mouth, his breath warm and heavy. His other hand had already slid beneath the hem of my dress, fingers exploring the line of my waist, burning with a fierce heat. “Hmm?”

My breath hitched. The rush from the race still pulsed through me, heightening every nerve, making his touch feel electric, every movement dangerously intoxicating.

“Lucien…” I murmured, catching his restless hand, my voice soft, almost pleading.

A low chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he pressed harder, lips trailing down to my collarbone, teeth grazing my skin with gentle bites. His hand moved further, kneading and teasing the fabric, igniting flames wherever his fingers touched, but then he paused just at the edge, circling with tantalizing patience, driving me wild with a mix of pleasure and aching emptiness.

Instinctively, my hands gripped his broad back, fingers digging into the taut muscles beneath his shirt, feeling the raw strength that held me captive.

“Want it?” His voice was like that of a patient predator, relentless and sure.

The unbearable teasing, combined with the lingering rush from the race, shattered the last of my restraint.

To hell with control.

“Shut up!” I snapped, breaking free from Lucien’s hold. His eyes widened in surprise as I unbuckled my own seatbelt, swung around, and settled onto his lap.

The leather seat creaked beneath us, the confined space of the car charged with heat and tension.

“Little Thorn Creative… learning to bare her claws?” His voice was rough, thick with desire.

I looked down at him, fingers deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt, tracing the hard planes of his chest, sliding over the ridges of his abs, inching toward the taut belt buckle straining against his pants.

Leaning in, I bit his lower lip softly, marking him.

“Norah… give it to me,” he pleaded, tightening his grip on my waist, pulling me closer with fierce urgency.

My voice faltered, breaking into fragments tangled with a yearning I’d never known before.

“Norah, tell me, do you like it?” he asked, breath ragged.

Outside, the mountain lay silent beneath a vast sky scattered with stars, the cool night wrapping around us like a cloak.

“After my parents died, it felt like Damian was all I had left.”

I stared out at the distant blur of city lights, a soft sadness settling over me. “With him, I always felt like I wasn’t enough. Not fun enough, not loving enough. I was terrified I couldn’t live up to the Constantine name, terrified of losing him. Scared to death.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “So I clung to that relationship with everything I had. I tried to be the perfect girlfriend—thoughtful, attentive, managing his moods, handling every little thing, terrified of becoming a burden.”

“He said design was too hard, told me not to push myself…” I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. “And slowly, I really did put down the brush… even let go of my beloved teacher.”

I lifted my eyes to meet Lucien’s. “My teacher, Mrs. Clémentine—a strange, brilliant old woman—she was so disappointed in me. She said I betrayed my gift, that I’d become a soulless doll revolving around men. She refused to see me again…” My throat tightened painfully. “I miss her so much.”

The night wind swept past the car, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

“Norah.” Lucien gently lifted my face, brushing away the tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. His gaze was filled with quiet admiration.

“You deserve everything,” he said softly. “Your talent is a gift from God, flowing through your veins. It should never be wasted—not for Damian, not for anyone’s approval, and not for foolish self-doubt.”

“Find your teacher, Norah,” his voice grew serious, “not to beg for forgiveness, but to tell her that the doll who disappointed her is gone. The woman standing before her now is Norah—the true master of Thorn Creative—back in the fight.”

“Take your designs, your fire, and show her that everything that belongs to you, you will reclaim—one piece at a time. Including what you lost… yourself.”

“Norah.” Lucien lowered his head and pressed a tender kiss to my forehead. “Pick up your brush and let the whole world see. Your light can set the night sky of Paris ablaze.”