CHAPTER 30
ARIA
After I left Dalton, I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt tight, like something was clawing its way out from the inside.
I didn’t know where else to go, so I went to the basement—where the only person who didn’t look at me like I was a thing.
I just needed to be somewhere that didn’t hurt.
Since I was a child, I’d never really belonged. Living with my uncle’s family was a constant reminder that I was a guest in someone else’s life.
I tried so hard to fix it—to study, to be quiet, to be useful. I thought education would save me. I thought if I just worked hard enough, I’d be free.
But instead, I ended up here.
One hundred years later.
Stripped of every right, every shred of dignity.
Treated like data on a clipboard.
Lian was the only one who didn’t look through me.
When I stepped inside, he was already there.
And the second he saw my face, his whole body tensed.
His eyes scanned me like he was trying to understand what had broken.
Then he walked over, slow but certain, and wrapped his arms around me without a word.
His warmth was immediate—solid, grounding. And when he spoke, it was barely above a whisper.
“Aria.”
My name is in his voice.
Soft.
Like he was holding it as carefully as he held me.
“Aria, what happened?”
I didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
I just let myself fold into him, burying my face in his chest as if I could hide there forever.
Something shifted inside me then.
I couldn’t see him as just a subject anymore.
He wasn’t an experiment.
He wasn’t some tragic file number.
He was a man.
A living, breathing man who held me like I wasn’t broken beyond repair.
His arms tightened around me. My fingers curled into his shirt.
Then I felt him still.
He pulled back slightly, just enough for his eyes to flicker down to my hand. Gently, he took it in his own, raising it toward his lips with a tenderness that made my breath catch.
But then he stopped—frozen mid-motion.
Slowly, almost mechanically, he turned my hand over and stared at the back of it.
Something shifted in him.
The warmth in his expression vanished, replaced by a sharp, unsettling intensity. His eyes hardened, sharpening like the edge of a drawn blade—cold, focused, suddenly distant.
“What is this?” he asked, his voice a low murmur, heavy with suspicion.
His gaze was locked on the thin abrasion streaking across the back of my hand—angry, raw, and red against my skin.
I hadn't even noticed it before, hadn’t thought it worth attention. But now, under his scrutiny, it felt like a spotlight had been thrown on it.
“Oh, that?” I said, attempting a casual tone as I offered a faint smile.
“It’s nothing—just a scratch. It happened earlier. It'll be gone in a few days.”
But my voice wavered slightly.
Because I could see it—he didn’t believe me.
He didn’t say anything.
Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath warm and steady against my skin.
The heat of him was overwhelming, the scent of him—a subtle mix of musk and something uniquely his—wrapped around me like a tangible presence.
My pulse quickened without warning.
Then, without hesitation, he extended his tongue and ran it gently across the scrape.
The sensation was electric, like a current sparked straight through my veins.
The softness of his tongue against the rawness of my skin was startling, intimate in a way that made my breath hitch. I froze for a moment, caught between shock and something much deeper—a quiet yearning I hadn’t dared to admit.
“Does that hurt?” he asked, his voice low, thick with concern yet laced with something more—a possessive tenderness.
I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper.
“No. It’s... It’s fine. You didn’t have to do that.”
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, those sharp, intense eyes that held a storm of emotions.
“You don’t have to pretend with me, Aria. I see everything.”
His words wrapped around me like a cloak, but also stripped away the walls I’d built. I felt exposed, vulnerable—and for once, I didn’t want to hide.
Before I could think too much, his hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer with a strength that was both commanding and gentle.
His fingertips traced along the curve of my hips, sending shivers crawling up my spine.
“Don’t pull away,” he murmured, his voice rough yet tender.
My lips parted instinctively, and he took the invitation without hesitation, his mouth claiming mine in a slow, searing kiss.
Every inch of me sharpened to a keen edge—the taste of him, the press of his hands, the way his body moulded perfectly to mine.
“Aria,” he breathed against my lips, his voice trembling with emotion.
“You have no idea what you do to me.”
My heart hammered wildly in response, a frantic rhythm that matched the growing heat pooling low in my belly.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, desperate to feel every inch of him.
He groaned softly, and his hands slid under the hem of my shirt, fingers tracing the bare skin of my waist.
I arched into his touch, hungry for more. The world outside that basement room—its cold, clinical walls, the endless experiments, the suffocating sense of being trapped—faded into nothingness.
This was the only reality that mattered now.
His lips left mine to trail down my jaw, along my neck, his breath hot and uneven.
“You’re mine,” he whispered fiercely, “and I won’t let you go.”
I trembled under his words, feeling a flush of heat bloom across my cheeks.
“I don’t want to be anywhere else,” I confessed, my voice raw with need and relief.
His hands moved with a growing urgency, sliding beneath my shirt to cup my back, pulling me flush against him.
I could feel the hard lines of his muscles beneath the fabric, the steady beat of his heart mirroring my own desperate pulse.
He kissed me again, deeper, slower—like trying to memorise every part of me. I responded in kind, my fingers tangling in his hair, my body pressing harder against his.
The air between us thickened, heavy with the weight of all the unsaid things—the anger, the pain, the years of distance and misunderstanding that had separated us. But in this moment, all that fell away.
There was only this—this fierce, burning connection that pulled us together with a force neither of us could resist.
My breath hitched as his hands slid lower, tracing the curve of my hips, his touch both demanding and worshipful. I twisted my waist instinctively, moving with him, matching the rhythm of his steady, sure movements.
“Aria,” he whispered again, voice thick with emotion.
“I’ve wanted you like this for so long.”
A sob threatened to escape me, but I swallowed it down, lost in the wave of sensation.
His hands tightened around me, and I felt every inch of him—solid, real, impossibly close.
He kissed the side of my neck, then down to my collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.
I clung to him, letting go of all the doubts and fears that had haunted me for so long.
“You’re not just some experiment,” he said fiercely, his voice barely more than a growl.
“You’re real. You’re alive. And I’ll fight for you.”
Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t care.
I wanted to believe him. I needed to.
"Lian," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
But he didn't answer, his focus entirely on the connection that seemed to pulse between us, unbreakable and electric.
Lian's hands roamed my body, exploring every curve and line with a hunger that was both gentle and demanding.
My mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, but my body was already betraying me, arching into his touch, seeking more.
His fingers traced the line of my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, each touch a brand that marked me as his.
My pulse quickened, my skin flushing with a heat that had nothing to do with the lab's temperature.
Lian murmured my name over and over again, each syllable a love message, a promise of something deeper, something more profound than the physical act we were about to share.
"Aria, Aria, Aria," he whispered, his voice a low, husky rumble that sent shivers down my spine.
As he entered me, a low groan escaped his lips, a sound of pure satisfaction and desire. He thrust slowly at first, allowing me to adjust, to feel every inch of him filling me completely.
The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and intensity that left me breathless.
My hips moved in sync with his, a primal rhythm that seemed to have a life of its own, guiding my body to meet his thrusts with an intensity that left me breathless.
Each thrust was deeper, more urgent, as if he were trying to merge our souls.
My mind was completely filled with the thick tide of passion, drowning out all rational thought, all reason, all the rules I had once held so dear.
I twisted my waist unconsciously to cater to Lian's thrusting movements, my body fluid and responsive, a dance of desire that was as old as time itself.
The room filled with the sounds of our shared breaths, the wet, obscene sounds of our bodies moving together, and the soft, desperate whispers of our names on each other's lips.
My fingers dug into Lian's back, holding on for dear life as waves of pleasure crashed over me, each one more intense than the last.
I was lost in the sensation, in the overwhelming tide of passion that threatened to drown me, to consume me entirely. And I didn't care. In that moment, nothing else mattered.
Only this. Only Lian.
Only the raw, unfiltered connection that bound us together, body and soul, in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
Our bodies moved together, a rhythm that was both ancient and new. Every touch, every breath, every whispered name was a promise—an unspoken vow that we were no longer alone.
As the tide of passion swept over me, my mind emptied, consumed entirely by the heat and the weight of his presence.
I twisted my waist unconsciously, matching his thrusts, wanting to feel closer, to merge into him completely.
His voice dropped to a hoarse murmur, his hands tightening around my waist.
“Aria… my Aria…”
The sound of my name on his lips was like a lifeline, pulling me through the storm of emotion and desire.
And in that moment, nothing else mattered but us—two broken souls finding a fierce, fragile connection in the darkness.