Chapter 12 Aslan
Aslan
“Dude, if it was that bad at the door,” I muttered as we pushed through the entryway, “everyone’s gonna treat me the same inside…”
“Trust me,” James said, flicking his hand as if I was just being dramatic. “No one’s gonna even notice you. They’re all mostly drunk.”
The second we stepped in, my chest tightened anyway—the air was thick with alcohol, and bass pounded through the floor so hard I felt it in my ribs. I could barely see where we were going as James dragged me deeper.
But he was right. No one was looking at me.
Okay—that wasn’t totally true. Eyes slid past me; faces from Crownwell flashed in and out—guys from the dining hall, girls from the tennis courts, rich assholes who usually bullied me—but even when they glanced at me, it didn’t land. It was like I didn’t exist.
It felt…good.
“Come on!” James yelled in my ear, leaning close so I could hear him over the music. “Let’s get a drink!”
I nodded and let him pull me along.
I was not gonna drink much because I was definitely a lightweight, and getting blackout drunk around a bunch of people who hated me sounded like a solid way to end up dead in an alley.
But then he shoved a beer into my hand, and when I took that first sip—cold and bitter and sharp—it hit my stomach like warmth spreading outward, like someone had lit a match inside me.
One turned into two.
Two turned into three.
And suddenly, I felt kinda of amazing.
So when James grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the dance floor, I didn’t even hesitate. I let my body move however the hell it wanted.
The music swallowed me whole. Hands brushed my hips, slipped around my waist—random, careless touches from strangers I couldn’t even see—and instead of panicking, instead of flinching away like I usually would…
I didn’t care.
All I knew was that the song was insane—like the best thing I’d ever heard—and if I stopped dancing, I might actually die.
“Aslan!”
I blinked, pulled back just enough to see James’s face below me. He wasn’t dancing anymore. He was staring off to the side.
He tilted his head. “Look.”
I followed his gaze…. And there he was.
Garrett.
Across the room, sitting on one of the sofas—a throne built specifically for him. Legs spread, shoulders back, bored with the entire world. Like everyone around him existed for his entertainment.
At first, he looked relaxed. Untouchable. A king watching his kingdom.
But then I saw his face… and it wasn’t relaxed at all. It was twisted in rage.
And it was aimed straight at me.
His scowl cut through my booze-soaked haze like a blade.
It was the kind of look that made your whole body go still—not because you wanted to, but because your instincts screamed danger. Like a deer caught in headlights. Except in this case, the headlights were Garrett fucking William, and instead of a car it was a rifle scope trained right between my eyes.
He didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. Just stared like he owned me.
Last thing I saw was Garrett grabbing Aitor’s shirt in a heated conversation—his eyes still on me.
God, that’s gotta be about me…. Why the hell did I come here?
“You trust me, right?”
I snapped my head toward James, breaking whatever messed-up staring contest I’d been trapped in.
“What?”
James leaned close, yelling over the bass, his hands cupped around his mouth as if we were on opposite sides of a stadium. “Can you trust me, roomy?”
“Uh… I guess?” It came out a bit uncertain because, honestly, I had no idea what kind of chaos he was about to unleash.
“Okay.” His eyes flashed. “Then don’t freak out. I know what I’m doing, alright?”
And before I could even answer, James reached up, grabbed my face with his manicured hands, and crashed his mouth onto mine.
My entire brain blue-screened.
I stood there frozen, eyes wide open, as James moved his lips against mine like I was supposed to just… go with it. Like this was a normal Saturday night activity and not the most insane thing that had happened to me since arriving at Crownwell.
“Kiss me,” he prompted me.
I didn’t even get to process any of it, because suddenly my body was ripped away from James by someone else…
One second I was standing there; the next I was being yanked out of the dance floor like a rag doll. I stumbled after whoever had grabbed me, my feet clumsy and uncoordinated from the alcohol, barely able to keep up as I was dragged down a set of stairs.
My shoulder slammed the wall.
My knee banged a step.
Someone cursed—might’ve been me, might’ve been him.
Then I was thrown into what looked like a storage room, my balance completely gone as I hit the floor on all fours.
I had half a second to look around—dark shelves, boxes, mops—before I was hauled up again and slammed backward into the door.
My head hit the wood with a dull thud before I could realize what was going on.
I turned my head to the aggressor—pain pulsing behind my skull—hissing in shock as I saw his face.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Garrett snarled.
He was right in front of me, breathing hard, eyes burning like he’d just caught me committing an actual crime.
“Getting fucking assaulted,” I muttered, rubbing my skull.
“Shut the hell up, lion… or are you gonna roar at me?”
His hand shot out and wrapped around my throat.
Not choking me—yet—but pinning me, holding me there with a pressure that made my whole body go tense. My words died instantly. My lungs tightened in that familiar way that wasn’t just fear—it was the memory of it, the instinct of it. The part of me that didn’t trust hands on my neck or restraining my body at all.
His blue eyes glowed in the dark like something feral.
For a second, it was almost quiet. Just the muffled music upstairs and his heavy breaths in the tight space between us. And I couldn’t tell if he was furious… or something else.
I swallowed carefully, feeling his grip tighten with the motion.
My gaze dropped to his mouth and, Jesus… His lips looked… good. Shining—almost wet. I couldn’t stop staring at the slight tremor, the soft curve shaping his bottom full lip like it was made for—
Crap.
I bit my own lips to stop myself from leaning forward and biting his, but he caught it and flinched—his jaw tightening like it pissed him off.
He shoved me once more against the door when I didn’t speak fast enough.
“I asked you a question. Why the hell are you here?”