CHAPTER 51: CENTURIES OF PULL

The knock was soft yet commanding, carrying the kind of patience only he ever used.

Anneliese rose quickly, her heart leaping before thought could temper it. When she opened the door, candlelight from the corridor spilled across his face—warm and sharp, as though the night itself had carved him from silence.

"Vincenzo." His name slipped from her lips before she realized, and she bit her tongue, startled by how much she had wanted it to be him.

He stepped inside without a word, closing the door behind him. The hush of the chamber folded around them. For a moment he only looked at her. It was the first time she had spoken his name, and he heard the way it lingered on her tongue as if it was meant for her alone to call.

Moonlight and candlelight caught in her eyes, tugging at him with something new, something changed. She was looking at him now as she never had before.

The silence stretched, steady and unbroken, yet heavy with words unsaid. Anneliese’s fingers curled at her side, restless, as though her body betrayed the stillness she tried to keep.

"You weren’t at dinner," she murmured. The words came softer than she intended.

His gaze held hers, unwavering. He stepped forward, narrowing the distance between them as he asked. "Why—did you miss me?"

Her pulse quickened, heat rising to her cheeks before she could steel herself. "I only wondered," she replied, though the faint tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Another step, closer this time—close enough that she could feel the quiet weight of his presence pressing into the space between them. He tilted his head slightly, as if studying the truth in her eyes rather than her words.

"You wondered," he repeated softly, the corner of his mouth curving—not quite a smile, but teasing. "And did you find yourself disappointed that I was not present?"

Anneliese’s heart skipped a beat. The chamber seemed smaller now, the air thinner, as though every heartbeat echoed between the stone walls.

Her lips parted, words tangling in her throat. She forced herself to meet his eyes, though the weight of his nearness threatened to undo her. "No," she said at last, steadier than she felt. "Only curious."

The flicker from the fireplace caught the sharp line of his face as he leaned closer, close enough that she could breathe in the refreshing scent of citrus and night air that clung to him.

Vincenzo remained still for a moment, letting the silence stretch, as though savoring the restraint between them. His eyes traced the curve of her neck, lingering on her lips for the briefest flicker of a second that seemed suspended in time. His gaze searched hers as though peeling back every fragile defense she tried to keep.

"Lying," he murmured, his voice a low thread that stirred the little air between them. "Could be dangerous."

Her breath trembled, her hand tucked a stray lock of hair firmly behind her ear as though grounding herself against the pull of him.

A moment passed, every crackle from the fire sounding far too loud in the silence.

Anneliese’s lashes fluttered as she dropped her gaze for the briefest moment, only to find it drawn back to him, as though the night itself refused to let her look away.

Vincenzo’s hand shifted at his side, the faintest movement, yet it carried the weight of intent—as if he fought the urge to reach for her. He did not. Instead, he leaned closer, close enough that the warmth of his breath brushed her cheek.

"You say curious," he murmured, his voice low, measured, "but your eyes..." His pause lingered, intentional, his gaze searching hers until the space between words felt dangerous. "...they tell me otherwise."

She held her breath unknowingly, the small gesture betraying nerves she could not hide.

For one impossible instant, it felt as though the night itself leaned in with him, waiting to see for how long she could hold her ground.

Slowly, she stepped back, the distance between them widening just enough to draw a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Each movement felt measured, yet reluctant, as though part of her longed to stay rooted in the magnetic pull of him.

She moved toward the cushioned window bench where she had been seated before. Moonlight pooled across the fabric, and she lowered herself onto it, fingers curling into the edge as if to anchor herself against the swirl of heat in her chest.

Vincenzo remained still for a heartbeat as if controlling the urge to hold her.

For a long moment, they simply regarded each other, the silence unbroken, thick with anticipation. The world outside the window might as well have ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them and the soft glow of firelight playing along the stone walls.

As he reached the window, his presence immense and quiet, he seemed like a shadow that refused to dissipate—wrapping around her senses, tugging at her composure.

Anneliese’s pulse thrummed, wild and restrained all at once, her gaze locked on his as though searching for a sign, a hint of what he might do next—or what she might allow herself to feel.

Vincenzo lowered himself onto the window seat, keeping a careful distance—giving her space while still holding that subtle gravitational pull, the closeness between them humming quietly in the air. His eyes studied her with the same intensity as before, yet now there was a flicker of something softer, almost curious.

Anneliese shifted slightly on the bench, letting the cushion settle beneath her, her fingers tightening ever so lightly around its edge.

Vincenzo’s gaze softened just enough, though the intensity never fully left his eyes. "How does your first day of training feel?" he asked, his voice low, almost conversational, as if testing the waters of normalcy.

"Better than I expected," she murmured, eyes tracing the silver patterns the moonlight cast across the floor. "From tomorrow, Lady Elowyn and I will work on deciphering the map." She drew a steadying breath. "I feel ready to face whatever lies ahead in my destiny... I just did not realize it until today."

Her gaze lingered on him, and for the first time that day, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. "With Lady Elowyn’s guidance—and... you by my side—I will find the answers I need."

The room seemed to exhale with them, the fire crackling softly, filling the space with warmth. Vincenzo’s hand drifted toward hers, brushing against it, and then holding it lightly. The gesture was quiet, intimate—not demanding, but grounding.

For a long heartbeat, neither spoke. Then, ever so gently, he leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers. The warmth of her presence, the faint scent of forest, flowers, and ash, wrapped around him. He could feel the rise and fall of her breath, the subtle pulse of her heartbeat through their joined hands. There was not a hint of resistance in her, and for the first time in his centuries-old life, even he found words difficult to form in her presence.

Then at last, her sweet voice reached his ears, barely more than a whisper, fragile and trembling, as if admitting a secret she’d never spoken. "I thought I wouldn’t see you today... when you did not show up at lunch or dinner."

Vincenzo’s hand tightened ever so slightly around hers, as though restraining himself against the pull her words stirred in him. His eyes caught the faintest quiver along her lips. "You have no idea what this... your admission... your trust does to me," he whispered, his voice barely leaving his lips, yet weighted with a promise that lingered far longer than either of them breathed. "You make the impossible feel... possible."

Anneliese’s other hand twitched slightly before she rested it over his chest, feeling it rise and fall beneath her palm. Her vulnerability was raw, unguarded, and it drew him closer—not in haste, but in the quiet, magnetic pull of centuries-old longing, even he had not fully understood until this moment.

In that suspended, quiet moment, the world beyond the window ceased to exist. There was only them—the firelight, the moonlight, and the soft, tethering connection between their souls.