💬 A Little Note from the Author
I’m a French author, and this is the English adaptation of my original story.
The English edition is being released progressively, and I’d really love to hear from native or fluent English readers.
Does the writing feel natural to you?
Do the dialogue and narration flow well?
Are there any expressions that sound too French or translated?
Feel free to leave a comment below and tell me what you think. No account is required. You can also contact me by email. 🖤
Your feedback genuinely helps me improve the English edition as new chapters are released.
Thank you so much for reading!
The bass pounds through The Gloaming, Chloe’s trendy bar in Edinburgh. Purple neon spills across the dark wooden counter while rain lashes violently against the fogged-up windows. The air is warm, thick with voices, clinking glasses, and the smell of damp clothes.
Sitting beside me, Liam slips his fingers between mine. His hands, faintly stained with oil paint, are large, warm, infinitely reassuring. He leans toward me with a tender smile and steals a kiss that still carries the bittersweet taste of his beer.
But when he pulls back, his attention is already somewhere else.
He stares into his glass without really seeing it, his thumb absently scraping at a dried streak of blue paint on his index finger.
“You’re still in your studio.”
Liam lets out a short, almost guilty laugh. A strand of blond hair falls across his forehead as he shakes his head.
“That painting is driving me insane. I spent all day reworking it, and the more I touch it, the more it loses whatever I was trying to put into it. I wanted depth. Something that could breathe. But the harder I try to save it, the more I feel like I’m suffocating it.”
I gently stroke my thumb over his.
“You’re just too much of a perfectionist. You’ll find the balance. You always do.”
Behind the bar, Chloe rolls her eyes as she vigorously dries a pint glass with a white towel. Her red curls bounce against her shoulders with every movement.
“You two are disgustingly cute. Seriously.”
A broad, sarcastic grin spreads across her face.
Liam laughs, a bright, genuine sound that immediately warms the space around us. He reluctantly lets go of my hand and glances at his worn leather watch.
With a sigh, he straightens.
“And that wedding isn’t going to pay for itself. If I want to finish this commission in time for the gallery, I need to be back in the studio before dawn.”
He stands, pulls on his heavy coat, then presses one last lingering kiss to my forehead.
“Don’t stay out too late, Harper.”
“I promise. Good luck with your shadows.”
I watch him make his way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd with that easy stride that is so unmistakably his.
My chest swells with genuine affection.
I have a life now.
A beautiful life.
Solid and real.
Once the door closes behind him, Chloe leans across the bar and studies me with open amusement.
“He’s perfect, you know. You really hit the jackpot with him.”
I lower my gaze to the understated diamond glittering on my ring finger.
“I know. It’s peace, Chloe. After everything I left behind in London, I honestly never thought I’d get to have that. For a long time, I thought storms were the only place I knew how to exist.”
Chloe pours another measure of dry gin into my glass.
“You earned it. A normal life. Peace and quiet.”
We clink glasses.
The alcohol burns pleasantly down my throat.
We talk about wedding preparations, tablecloth colors, all the deliciously insignificant details that make up my life now. I savor the moment, wrapped in a carelessness it took me three years to build.
Then suddenly, the air changes.
A heavy pressure, almost physical, settles over the back of my neck.
The cold from the street seems to tear into the room with impossible force, sweeping away the warmth of the bar. The hairs on my arms rise instantly.
My stomach knots.
It is absolute.
Primitive.
I know this feeling.
I spent three years running from it.
I freeze, my glass suspended inches from my lips.
The smell of alcohol, sweat, and spilled beer still clings to the air, but something else cuts through the chaos of the bar.
Slowly, I turn on my stool.
Behind the counter, Chloe falls silent.
He’s here.
Kaelen Cross.
He stands only a few yards away, perfectly still in the middle of the chaos.
He is broader than I remember.
More powerful.
More imposing.
His long dark coat seems to swallow the neon light. His gray eyes are fixed on me.
They don’t blink.
He isn’t searching for me with his gaze.
He already owns the sight of me, as though he never stopped knowing exactly where I was.
My heart slams so violently against my ribs that it steals my breath.
I can’t move.
He walks toward me.
Every step seems to drain the oxygen from the room. The crowd parts instinctively in his path, as if pushed aside by the lethal aura surrounding him.
He stops directly in front of me.
His gaze moves across my face, taking in every detail, studying my green eyes with a devouring intensity.
“Three years, my raven.”
His voice is rough, low, vibrating through me like an undertow.
He only ever called me that once.
But that single word is enough to crack the armor I spent three years building.
I set my glass down on the bar.
The sharp click of glass against wood cuts through the noise.
I hold my ground.
I refuse to let him see even a trace of weakness.
My voice comes out cold.
“I ran from you for a reason.”
He doesn’t flinch.
No regret crosses his marble-cut features. No hesitation.
He remains terrifyingly calm.
When he speaks, his voice drops lower, heavy with ruthless certainty.
“I know. I looked for you anyway.”
“You’re wasting your time. Go back where you came from.”
I lift my chin and force myself to hold his gaze.
“I have a life now.”
His eyes immediately drop to my left hand.
To my engagement ring.
Something unreadable twists at the corner of his mouth. Dark. Cold.
He makes no sudden movement. His hands remain buried deep in the pockets of his coat, denying me the physical contact my entire body fears almost as much as it anticipates.
“Then why is your heart beating like it still remembers me?”
The question hits me full force.
This man’s arrogance has no limits.
He can read my fear. He can sense the adrenaline flooding my blood.
“My heart is beating because you’re a threat, Kaelen. Nothing more. Get out before I call security.”
Kaelen gives a short laugh completely devoid of humor.
Cold.
Cutting.
“Your little bouncers can’t do anything against me, Harper. You know that. No one can. I know your new address. I know your painter’s name. I know every detail of this pretty illusion you’ve built for yourself here.”
He moves half a step closer.
Heat radiates from his chest.
The distance between us is no longer space.
It’s a threat.
He doesn’t touch me.
That’s worse.
My body reacts as if his fingers are already against my skin.
His expression hardens.
“I’m not leaving Edinburgh. Not until I get the truth. I want to hear you tell me what you really feel.”
His eyes remain locked on mine.
“And believe me, I’ll know if you lie.”
He pulls one hand from his pocket.
My breath catches in my throat, but all he takes out is a rigid black card edged in gold.
He places it carefully on the wooden bar in front of me.
His gaze lingers on me one last time, heavy with a dangerous promise.
“I didn’t come back for business.”
A beat of silence.
“I came back for you.”
He turns and walks away with the same lethal confidence.
The bar door opens, then closes behind him, swallowing him into the rainy night as suddenly as he appeared.
I remain frozen on my stool.
Unable to move.
Unable to tear my eyes away from the small black card lying in front of me.
My hands are trembling slightly.
War has just been declared.
The shadow of London has come to devour the light of Edinburgh.
And I already know that no one will walk away from what he just awakened untouched.
And of course… what do you think of Kaelen so far? 👀🖤
Leave a comment below — I’d love to know.
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