NIRELLE

"Nirelle?" I hear Lucien's name at the door, and my heart races. We had spent twenty-four hours on the third floor because I asked. I had tried all day to avoid looking in his eyes because I was scared that even though I was fearful of him touching me, I wanted him to. I take a deep breath, walk to the door and open it.

His hand hangs in the air in a fist as he is about to knock again. "Hi there," I whisper as the scent of his cologne and bath soap fills my nose.

"Can I come in?" He ...