CH- 42 

CH- 42 
Sebastian POV

Few days later

The first thing you need to understand about me is this: I don’t share well.

Especially not her.

I’ve been patient—by my standards, anyway. I let Lorien play his gentleman games. I let her pretend she could keep the third bond at bay. But patience isn’t my nature.

And right now, patience is the last thing I feel.

She’s on the Arena floor, her hair catching the torchlight, the new silver flicker in her eyes impossible to miss. Students are packed into the stands, murmuring like a nest of restless snakes.

They all see it—how the marks on her neck pulse, how she’s no longer just a girl.

Good. Let them watch.

I step out of the shadows, boots striking stone, my name whispered like a curse as I descend the steps.

She turns when she hears me.

“Sebastian—”

I don’t let her finish. My hand is on her throat before she can take a step back, pushing her against the cold marble pillar in the Arena’s center.

Gasps ripple through the crowd.

“What are you doing?” she hisses, her voice low but sharp, trembling with anger—or maybe something else.

My lips curve into a dangerous smile, one that promises both pleasure and pain. “Claiming what’s mine.”

Her pulse jumps beneath my palm, fast and frantic, betraying the calm façade she tries so hard to maintain.

She glares up at me, defiant even now, even here, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in those silver-laced eyes. Good. Let her doubt herself. Let her wonder exactly how far I’m willing to go.

The Arena’s enchantments shimmer to life around us, responding to the tension crackling in the air.

Every mirror embedded in the walls flashes, reflecting our entwined figures from every angle—her pinned against the pillar, my body crowding hers, the hunger written plainly across my face for everyone to see.

There’s no escape now. No hiding. The entire school will bear witness to what happens next.

I lower my mouth to her ear, my breath hot against her skin. “You want control? You want to play queen?”

My voice is a purr, laced with mockery and something darker. “Let’s give them something to bow to.”

Her jaw tightens, teeth clenched as if she’s trying to hold back words—or maybe a scream. Doesn’t matter. I already know she won’t fight me—not really. Not when we both crave the same thing.

My hand slides down her body, slow and deliberate, fingertips trailing over the curve of her hip until I reach the hem of her skirt. I push it higher, exposing bare skin to the cool air of the Arena. She jerks, more from the shock than the touch itself, her wide eyes locking onto mine as if searching for some sign of mercy.

There isn’t any.

“Sebastian—” she starts again, her voice shaking this time, caught somewhere between protest and surrender.

I press harder, leaning closer until our faces are inches apart. Her scent fills my lungs—fear, arousal, defiance—all tangled together in a way that makes my blood burn hotter.

“What?” I whisper, my grin widening when her breath catches audibly. “Did you think I’d wait while you played house with him? With them?”

Her nails dig into my shoulders, sharp enough to draw blood, but I barely register the pain. It’s nothing compared to the storm raging inside me—the possessive fury clawing its way to the surface, demanding I remind her who she belongs to. Who she’s always belonged to.

“You think Lorien would do this where everyone can see?” I taunt, dragging my fingers along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

Her legs tremble slightly, though whether from fear or anticipation, I can’t tell—and honestly, I don’t care. “No. But I will. Because I want them to know you’re mine.”

The first stroke of my fingers pulls a sound from her she can’t swallow back—a gasp, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the Arena like a confession.

It bounces off the stone walls, amplified by magic, reverberating through the silent crowd until it feels like the entire world is holding its breath.

Her hips move instinctively before she can stop them, betraying her body’s response despite the resistance in her gaze.

She bites her lip, trying to stifle another moan, but it slips out anyway, soft and broken, cutting through the stillness like a blade.

The mark on her neck burns, silver and red flaring together. I feel it under my lips when I bite the side of her throat—not deep enough to drink, just enough to leave the threat of it.

She trembles, and I work her faster, harder, until her head drops back against the pillar.

The crowd is murmuring now, the sound feeding my own hunger.

“Cum for me,” I murmur against her ear. “Do it while they’re watching. Make it real.”

Her breath catches, then shatters, her body tensing as she fights the inevitable—but only for a moment.

Then she’s falling, unraveling in my hands with a cry she tries to muffle against my shoulder.

Her nails dig into my arms, sharp enough to draw blood, but I barely notice. All I care about is the way her pulse races beneath my fingertips, how her body betrays her even as her mind resists.

I don’t stop. Not until the mark on her neck explodes with light.

The sigil flares—red, silver, and black all at once—and then shatters, sending a shockwave through the Arena.

The crowd screams as the marble floor splits, the magic tearing itself open until a gate yawns wide in the center.

And there he is.

The silver-eyed stranger.

He emerges slowly, deliberately, his presence filling the space like smoke choking out air. His gaze locks onto Aria instantly, bypassing everyone else as though they don’t exist.

There’s no hesitation in his eyes—only hunger. Knowing. Claiming. It’s as if he’s already tasted her soul and found it wanting.

He lifts a hand, and pain rips through me—a searing agony that feels like my bond with her is being torn straight out of my chest.

My knees buckle, forcing me to release her as I collapse to the ground, clutching at the burning sigil on my own neck.

Around me, the crowd screams, panic erupting as the mirrors lining the walls reflect his image endlessly, multiplying his menace until there’s nowhere to look without seeing him.

When he speaks, his voice carries through every mirror, every mind in the room, resonating with a power that shakes the very foundations of the Arena.

“Bring her to me…” he says, his tone calm but edged with lethal intent. “…or I’ll come take her myself.”

But to where???