Chapter 11 Aslan
Aslan
“They did what?”
James stood in the middle of our dorm like he’d just witnessed the apocalypse. One hand covered his mouth in the most dramatic gesture I’d ever seen, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed like he was about to combust.
My hands were still shaking with a million emotions….
Humiliation.
Shock.
Hurt.
And, to make it ten times worse—heat.
It didn't help my case that I was still wearing his cum on my shirt.
I took it off, throwing it at the bottom of the laundry basket, ready to scream.
Because what the hell was wrong with me?
“Tell me everything. From the beginning. No skipping.” James demanded, barely able to contain himself.
I glared at him. Then I opened my mouth and told him.
All of it.
By the time I finished, James let out a sound, simultaneously horrified and thrilled.
“Oh my God,” he breathed. “And you thought he didn’t like you? Well, this is your proof.”
I stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
“How the hell is finding Garrett with Tasha any proof that he likes me?” I hissed. “Are we even talking about the same thing right now?”
“Yes!” James practically yelled. “Oh my God, yes. The dude obviously did it because he was jealous.”
I scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous,” James insisted. “It’s psycho, sure—but it’s not ridiculous. He saw you with her. He couldn’t take it. He wanted to prove something. He wanted to—ugh, I don’t know—mark his territory.”
“Mark his—” I choked on the words. “I’m not his territory.”
James pointed at me. “Exactly! And that’s why he’s losing his mind.”
I paced once, then stopped and pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead.
I was too tired for this. Too overloaded. My whole brain felt like it was buzzing with static.
“You know what?” I said finally, voice flat. “Fine. Tomorrow night, one of us will be proved wrong.”
James instantly smiled. “Now we are talking!”
James’s car was ridiculously luxurious.
He adjusted the rearview mirror and grinned at himself. “Okay. Tonight? We’re gonna be hot, unhinged, and wreck Garrett Williams emotionally.”
“I love how that’s your main goal,” I muttered.
“Well, I also plan on getting laid—hopefully—but yeah, you’re first on my list,” he said sweetly.
“Awww…” I placed a hand over my heart with a moved expression.
Out of uniform, James wasn’t just “out there”—he was completely unfiltered. Black leather pants that hugged his legs like sin. A lavender silk shirt that matched the few pastel highlights in his hair, which looked freshly done. A long black jacket that made him look like he belonged on a runway instead of in a prep school.
And yes—because he was James—he had a scarf. Some fabulous designer thing draped around his neck like he’d just walked out of a fashion editorial.
There was also a subtle shimmer on his cheekbones that caught the light every time he turned his head.
I stared at him. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you! You too!”
I looked down at myself and snorted.
I was wearing the only decent thing I had—dark jeans and a fitted shirt that didn’t have holes in it. That was it. No designer. No shimmer. No scarf.
Just… Aslan.
James leaned over and unbuttoned my collar, as if he were styling a mannequin. “You’re fine, lion boy. Trust me.”
We drove for quite a while before pulling up to Molly Bloom’s.
And reality punched me in the face again.
The club looked like a neon heartbeat—lights glowing in the entrance, music vibrating through the walls, people packed by the entrance.
I stared at it, suddenly too aware of my own body.
My heart. My breathing.
I hesitated at the curb and forced myself to inhale slowly. I’d wanted this. I’d wanted normal.
James bumped my shoulder. “Come on.”
We walked toward the door to find one of the Crownwell football guys—a massive mountain of muscle—standing at the entrance like he owned the place.
Obviously, the Constellation had bribed the guards and made this a “Crownwell private party.”
Shit
James and I approached anyway, because we weren’t cowards.
The guy looked us up and down. Then he smirked—slow, cruel, and familiar.
“Name?”
James gave his full name with a flourish, like the dude was lucky to be speaking to him.
The guy nodded and waved James through without even checking anything.
Then his eyes landed on me, and the smirk sharpened.
“And you?” he asked.
I gave my name.
He looked at the list. Made a show of scanning it like he didn’t already know what he was going to say.
Then he snapped it shut.
“Not on it.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Not on the approved list,” he repeated. “So you can get lost.”
James scoffed. “This is a public place.”
“Not tonight, it’s not,” the guy said lazily. Then he leaned in closer, voice dropping. “Maybe you can join your friend, loser. Get the hell out. Both of you.”
My stomach turned.
James stepped forward, eyes flashing. “You don’t get to—”
Two of the guards moved in immediately, hands ready to grab us like we were causing trouble. Like we were the problem.
I felt James tense beside me, and the humiliation hit fast. It burned.
I pushed forward, ready for a fight, but the guards began to shove us back with more force.
When James stumbled, nearly hitting the ground, something in me snapped and I lunged at the football guy.
He was massive and barely even flinched—just took a step back, squaring up and about to swing at me.
Then a voice cut through everything—calm, cold, unmistakable.
“Stop. They’re with me.”
The guards froze.
The football guy turned, and my stomach flipped for a different reason entirely.
Aitor walked up, owning the place—not even loud about it. He didn’t have to be. He was dressed in black—simple, expensive, clean—and his expression didn’t change as he looked at the guys blocking us.
“I said,” Aitor repeated, eyes steady, “they’re with me.”
The football guy tried to laugh. “Come on, Castro, this isn’t—”
Aitor tilted his head slightly, his voice turning sharper without rising. “Do you really want me to repeat that?”
A beat.
Then the guy stepped aside, jaw tight. The guards backed off like they’d suddenly remembered how to breathe.
Aitor looked at us once—brief, quiet.
“Go in,” he said.
James practically preened as he walked past. “I love you,” he stage-whispered.
I hesitated. Then I stepped closer to Aitor.
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it more than I wanted to admit. “It seems like I’m running a pretty long tab with you.”
Aitor’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. He gave my shoulder a light pat.
“Have fun,” he said.
Then he turned away like saving me was just another thing he did.
“Well,” he said with a wink. “Maybe we’re aiming for the wrong Costellation…”
“Why’s that?” I played dumb, my pulse still at a hundred miles per hour.
James grabbed my arm and dragged me into the club before I could overthink it.
“Because if Garrett doesn’t respond to my theory according to plan… I know who will.”