CH- 48 

CH- 48 

Aria’s POV

The mirrors in Blackthorn are not kind.

They warp in the torchlight, their surfaces shifting like oil on water. Most students avoid them, afraid of what they’ll see staring back. Not me. I can’t seem to stop looking.
Because sometimes… I don’t see myself.

Tonight, after sparring in the courtyard, sweat slicking my skin and muscles burning, I caught a flicker of him. Not Lorien. Not Sebastian. Him.

The one whose mark scorches beneath my clothes, the one whose voice haunted my dreams since I left for Blood Moon Week.

The Third.

I shut my eyes against the shiver, trying to breathe, but the air was thick, charged—like the whole academy was pressing against my lungs.

When I opened them, Sebastian was there.

He leaned against a pillar, casual in posture but sharp in gaze, his shirt open at the collar, chest gleaming faintly with sweat.

His fangs glinted when he smirked. “You look distracted, little mortal.”
My temper snapped before I could cage it, raw and unfiltered. “Stop calling me that.”

His grin only widened, cruel and amused, like he enjoyed watching me unravel thread by thread.

“If you want me to use another name…” Sebastian tilted his head slightly, his predator’s smile sharpening, “…you’ll have to earn it.”

Before I could retort—before I could claw the smirk right off his face—Lorien stepped into the ring of light, shadows draping him like armor forged in the depths of some forgotten abyss.

His eyes burned green fire when they locked onto Sebastian, fierce and territorial, every muscle in his body coiled tight as a spring ready to snap.

“Leave her,” Lorien growled, his voice low but carrying an edge that vibrated through my chest like thunder. It wasn’t a request; it was a command, one laced with barely contained fury.

And there it was again—their endless pull, two predators circling each other while I stood trapped between them like prey too stubborn to run. I hated how it made my pulse race, hated even more how it made my body ache, torn between heat and shadow, between fire and ice. My skin prickled under their gazes, their presence pressing against me like a weight I couldn’t escape no matter how hard I tried.

Sebastian didn’t back down. Of course he didn’t. Instead, he pushed off the pillar where he’d been lounging, stalking closer until I could smell the metallic tang of iron and danger clinging to him like a second skin. His grin turned feral, sharp teeth flashing in the dim light.

“Why should I leave her to you?” he sneered, his tone dripping venom.

“You’ve had your chance. You keep breaking her instead of claiming her.”

Loriken’s jaw flexed, a muscle ticking along his cheekbone as if he were biting back words too volatile to unleash here.

But he didn’t deny it. He didn’t defend himself either. Instead, he stepped closer too, deliberate and steady, until I was bracketed by both of them—one wall of heat at my front, one veil of shadow at my back. Trapped.

And yet—it wasn’t their nearness that unraveled me.

It was the mirror across the courtyard wall.

Because in it, I wasn’t standing between Lorien and Sebastian.

In the reflection, I was pressed against the glass itself, lips parted, breath shallow, my gaze wide and unfocused.

A man with silver eyes loomed over me, his hand gripping my chin possessively, as though I belonged to him and him alone.

His thumb traced the curve of my mouth slowly, deliberately, sending a shiver racing down my spine that didn’t belong to this moment—or this world.

My reflection moaned softly, a sound so achingly vulnerable it twisted something deep inside me, my body betraying me in ways I couldn’t control.

I staggered backward, breaking free from the suffocating line between the two vampires, my heart hammering wildly in my chest.

“Did you see that?” I whispered, my voice trembling, uneven, desperate for answers neither of them seemed willing to give.

But they didn’t look at the mirror. They didn’t even glance at it. Their gazes remained locked on each other, then flicked to me, burning with intensity—but not confusion. Not surprise. As if they hadn’t seen a thing.

As if what I saw wasn’t real.

Mireille’s voice cut through the tension like a blade slicing silk. “Careful, Aria.” She emerged from the shadows, sleek and composed, her smirk razor-sharp as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Her gaze swept over me, assessing, calculating, like she already knew exactly what I’d just witnessed—and why. “You’re starting to show.”

For a moment, I thought she was mocking the way my hands shook, the heat in my cheeks. But then I noticed where her eyes drifted—toward Kael.

He was across the courtyard, speaking with Sera. Or… not speaking. Too close. Their faces tipped toward one another, a silence thick enough to suggest words unsaid.

The kind of silence lovers drown in.
Mireille’s smirk deepened. “Seems the teachers are setting an example, hm?”

I swallowed, unsure why that made my chest tighten. Maybe because it meant I wasn’t the only one entangled in dangerous threads. Maybe because if even Sera Duvall could falter, then I was already doomed.
I turned away from them, back toward the mirror.

And froze.

The Third was there again, more solid than before, his gaze locked on mine through the glass. His lips curved in a smile that was almost tender, almost cruel. My skin prickled, heat rolling through me low and deep.
Then—he leaned forward, and I felt it.

Not in the mirror. On me.
A phantom touch, like a mouth brushing against mine, like hands sliding over my hips. My breath hitched, body reacting though there was nothing to see, nothing to fight. My thighs pressed together, desperate, helpless.

I gasped. Lorien’s head snapped toward me, Sebastian’s too, both reading the flush on my cheeks, the part of my lips. But they didn’t see him.

The Third tilted his head, almost affectionate, and mouthed two words I shouldn’t have understood but did.
Mine. Already.

I stumbled back, the world spinning. My hands clawed at the fabric of my shirt, as if I could tear free the brand I couldn’t show them.

And when I looked again—he was gone.

I woke hours later in my bed, heart still racing, sweat clinging to my skin. And at the foot of the bed, in the faint glow of moonlight—

The Third sat waiting, silver eyes burning into me.

Not again.