CH- 38

CH- 38

Aria POV

I open my mouth to respond—
And someone else’s voice comes out:

“This body is mine.
This flame is mine.
The queen has returned.”

\==============

Lorien’s still on the floor when the silence finally registers.
No voices in the courtyard. No footsteps in the hall. No air moving through the open windows.

Just him—breathing too hard.
And the blood.

Dark drops sliding down from his sigil to stain the collar of his shirt.

“You let him in,” he says. His voice is low, almost reverent.
“He’s in all of us now.”

The words cut deeper than I’m ready for.

I take a step toward him, but the movement makes him recoil, his body going tight like a bowstring.
“Don’t—”

It’s the kind of warning that’s not really about safety. It’s about distance. About not crossing a line.
I ignore it.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say.
His laugh is humorless. “You already are.”

I kneel beside him, fingers reaching before my mind catches up. “Lorien—”

His gaze flicks to mine, sharp and unyielding, slicing through whatever fragile moment might have existed between us.

There’s no softness in it this time—no trace of the boy who once held me like I was something precious. This is someone else entirely. Someone dangerous.

“You don’t understand what’s inside you now,” he says, his voice low and steady, but edged with something darker. Something warning.

“Oh, I understand plenty,” I whisper back, my tone biting, defiant.

My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything except the weight of his stare. I can feel it—the thing inside me, coiled tight and restless, waiting for permission to break free. It’s not just power; it’s hunger. Hunger that doesn’t belong to me, yet feels more real than anything I’ve ever known.

And then I do it.

I let the bond flare—not a gentle pulse, not some timid reminder of what ties us together—but a sharp, deliberate spark.

Like dragging a blade across skin just to prove you’re not afraid of blood. Just to show him I won’t flinch. Not anymore.

The air between us crackles, heavy and charged, like the calm before a storm. His breath stutters, just barely, but it’s enough to make my lips twitch into something almost like a smirk. Almost.

His eyes shift—not just red, but molten, glowing with an intensity I’ve only seen when he’s on the edge of losing control.

The kind of look that makes your chest tighten, not from fear, but from knowing exactly how much damage he could do if he wanted to. If he needed to.

But I don’t look away. I can’t. Because this isn’t about submission or surrender. This is about proving something—to him, to myself, maybe even to whatever part of me still trembles under his gaze.

“You think I’m afraid of you?” I ask, leaning closer until our faces are inches apart. Close enough to see the faint tremor in his jaw, the way his pupils dilate despite the fire burning in his irises.

“No.” His voice drops lower, rougher, each word scraping against my skin like gravel. He leans forward too, just enough for me to feel the heat radiating off him, pressing against me like a challenge. “I’m afraid of losing you.”

That should undo me. Those words—so raw, so vulnerable—should take the fight right out of my chest, leave me trembling and unsure. They should remind me of why I trusted him in the first place, why I let myself care about him at all.

But instead, they make me reckless.

I move until my lips brush his ear. “Then don’t let me go.”

The bond jumps again, surging through me in waves that hit low and hard. My body reacts before my mind does—back arching, breath catching.

And Lorien—Lorien finally looks at me like I’m still his.

One moment I’m on my knees, the next I’m flat on my back, the cold stone biting through my clothes, his weight pinning me there.

His mouth is on my throat—not biting, but pressing there like he could claim me with nothing more than heat and proximity.

“You want control?” His voice is low, dangerous.

“I want you,” I breathe. “All of you.”

His lips trail down—slow enough to make my skin ache for more. My collarbone. The edge of my shirt. My stomach.

By the time his hands slide down my thighs, I’m trembling. Not from fear.

From want.

He pushes my legs apart with a surety that’s almost infuriating.

Looks up at me from between them, his pupils blown wide, mouth slightly open like he’s already tasting me in his mind.

When his tongue touches me, I gasp—sharp, involuntary, desperate.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t rush.

Every flick, every slow drag is intentional. Precise. Designed to make me unravel piece by piece.

I grab his hair without thinking, not to guide him, but to hold onto something because the rest of me is coming apart.

The bond hums between us, alive and electric, drawing each sound out of me and feeding it right back into him.

For a few minutes, it works.

I forget about the voice that isn’t mine. The silver-eyed man in my dreams. The third bond twisting itself into my blood.

There’s only this. Him.

Until there isn’t.

The pleasure fractures, replaced by a white-hot burn that sears through my sigil like molten metal.

“Lorien—!” My voice breaks.

He stops instantly, bracing himself over me. “What is it? Aria—”

But the pain has already rooted itself, spreading through my veins in time with my heartbeat.

It’s not just heat. It’s possession.

My vision swims. My body shakes—not from release but from something jagged and wrong, clawing its way out from under my skin.

I can feel him—the other one—sliding closer to the surface, pressing into the bond like a hand closing around my throat.

Lorien cups my face, searching for me through the pain. “Stay with me. Don’t let him—”
Too late.

The world tilts, a rush of air and sound swallowed by the roaring in my ears. Lorien leans in—closer, desperate—and his mouth finds mine.

It’s not a kiss. It’s a last-ditch anchor. A tether.

But his lips are slick with me, and when his tongue brushes the cut inside my mouth, something happens.

Something violent.

The bond between us flares—then snaps like a wire under too much tension. Lorien jerks against me, eyes wide, and then they roll back.

He collapses, heavy and unmoving, his head against my chest.

I push at him, panic spiking. “Lorien—! Lorien, wake up!”

Nothing.
Except…
The sigil on his neck is moving.

I stare, frozen, as the mark shifts under his skin, splitting—not in half, but into three.
And in the center of my mind, in a voice I don’t want to recognize, he laughs.

“One down,” the voice purrs.
“Two more to claim. Then you’ll be mine entirely.”