CHAPTER 32
ARIA
I came back slowly.
First, there were sounds—soft and strange. Leaves shifting. Birds were calling in voices I didn’t recognise.
Then the pain. A deep, dragging throb in my side made it hard to breathe.
My eyes opened, but the world swam, refusing to settle. Everything felt wrong.
Too bright.
Too green.
Trees surrounded me.
Tall, ancient.
The kind of forest that felt untouched—wild.
I didn’t remember coming here.
Then I realised I wasn’t lying down.
I was being held.
Arms wrapped around me, strong and steady, though I could feel the tremble in them. My head lolled against a chest, warm and slick with sweat... or blood.
I forced myself to look up.
Lean.
His name hit me before the rest of him did.
His face hovered above mine, tense. His jaw clenched, eyes burning with something fierce—something I couldn’t name.
Relief?
Fear?
But it was his eyes I couldn’t look away from.
Green, dark as the forest around us, and full of a quiet desperation that made my throat tighten.
Then I saw the blood.
A crimson trail ran from his shoulder, soaking into the fabric near his collarbone.
Fresh.
Still bleeding.
He’d been shot.
A sharp pulse screamed through my side.
I gasped.
My hand flew to my waist and came away wet and sticky.
I was bleeding too.
He doesn’t answer right away. His gaze lingers on my face, searching, conflicted—like he’s trying to find the right words.
Then finally, in a low, rough voice, he says,
“Somewhere safe. For now.”
There’s something in the way he says it—like safety is temporary, like the moment could shatter if we breathe too hard.
His hand brushes a damp strand of hair from my face.
“You passed out. I brought you here. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”
Lean moved slowly, lowering us both onto the forest floor with surprising care for someone so wounded. I expected him to tear fabric for a bandage, or press down on the wound to stop the bleeding.
But then—he leaned in. Too close.
And before I could ask what he was doing, I felt it.
His tongue.
Warm. Wet. Unmistakably real.
It touched the edge of my wound, and I jolted, instinctively trying to pull away. A shocked gasp escaped me.
The pain exploded—sharp and searing, like someone had dragged hot metal across my skin. My whole body tensed, screaming at me to move, to make him stop.
But I didn’t.
Because then—just as fast—it changed.
The pain didn’t vanish, but it softened. Dulled, like someone had turned down the volume.
A strange warmth spread beneath my skin, tingling and unfamiliar.
Not painful.
Not exactly pleasant either.
Just… strange.
I stared down at him, wide-eyed, breath caught somewhere between fear and awe.
“What are you doing to me?” I whispered, but he didn’t answer.
He just kept going, steady and focused, like this was the only way he knew how to help me.
And somehow, despite everything—I let him.
The torn skin along my waist… it didn’t burn anymore.
I blinked, staring down in disbelief as the wound slowly pulled itself together beneath his mouth.
The blood stopped.
The jagged edges of skin knit themselves shut, like they were never torn at all.
What the hell?
This wasn’t normal. Flesh doesn’t do that. Not on its own. Not in seconds.
It was like watching time rewind. Like the damage had never happened.
His saliva—whatever the hell was in it—wasn’t just helping. It was changing something.
Changing me.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
And then, the warmth hit.
Not just at the wound.
Everywhere.
A wave of heat unfurled beneath my skin, rushing outward like sparks leaping across dry leaves.
My whole body lit up—tingling, pulsing, alive.
Too alive.
I opened my mouth to say something—to ask him what he was doing, what this was—but nothing came out.
The words stuck in my throat.
My breath hitched. My chest rose and fell too fast.
Everything was scrambled.
My thoughts, my senses. It was like my body had hijacked my brain and decided to feel everything at once.
And I couldn’t stop it.
Couldn’t look away.
I just watched—helpless—as something I didn’t understand took hold.
And part of me was terrified.
But another part?
Another part wanted to let it.
“How?”
My voice cracked on the word, hoarse and shaking.
Nothing made sense.
But Lean didn’t answer.
His breathing had changed. Slower. Heavier. Almost...hungry.
Then his lips brushed my stomach, barely there, trailing up—slow, deliberate, like he wasn’t just touching me, but claiming me.
My breath hitched.
Wherever he kissed, heat followed.
When his tongue skimmed the side of my neck, a violent shiver ran down my spine.
“Lean,” I breathed, voice barely audible.
“Stop… what are you doing?”
He didn’t stop.
His hand slid behind my back, pulling me into him—and suddenly I could feel everything.
And it terrified me.
Not because he meant to hurt me—he didn’t—but because I could feel something unraveling. In him. In me.
Something was shifting.
“I said stop,” I whispered again, trying to push at his chest.
But it was like pressing against steel. Solid. Unmoving.
His mouth kept moving, up the curve of my throat, his tongue burning a path along my skin.
My body reacted without permission—another shiver, another catch of breath.
Pleasure.
Fear.
They warred inside me, tangled and breathless.
I pressed my palms harder against him, needing space, needing to think—but his arms tightened.
Not cruel.
Not forceful.
Like he wasn’t letting go.
“Lean,” I said again, my voice breaking this time. “Please…”
And still, I didn’t know if I wanted him to stop.
Or if I was just afraid of what would happen if he didn’t.
Lean’s breathing grew heavier, each inhale sharp and ragged as his chest pressed firmly against mine.
My pulse sped up. My breath came faster, shallower, no matter how hard I tried to steady it.
It was like being caught in a current I hadn’t meant to enter — and now it was dragging me under.
And the worst part was — I didn’t know if I wanted to fight it.
Lean’s mouth traced a slow path down my skin — from the delicate line of my collarbone, then lower, grazing the swell of my breast.
My breath caught in my throat.
Every nerve in my body flared alive, and despite the part of me screaming to pull away, I found myself arching into him.
Betrayed by my own body.
What started as a strange tingling had deepened into something far more dangerous — a slow, burning ache coiling low in my stomach and pulsing between my thighs.
I clenched my eyes shut, willing it away, but it only grew stronger with every touch, every breath that brushed my skin.
I could feel him against me. Hard. Hot. Unapologetically alive.
It should have scared me. Maybe it did.
But it also stirred something wild inside me — something unspoken, rising from deep within, matching his hunger beat for beat.
“Lean, please,” I whispered, voice barely holding together.
I didn’t even know what I was asking — to stop, or to keep going.
My mind was chaos.
My body, a traitor.
Lean pulled back just enough to meet my eyes — dark, stormy, desperate.
His breath came in sharp, uneven bursts.
“Aria,” he rasped, voice thick with want. “I can’t stop. Not now. Not with you.”
Before I could respond, he crushed his mouth to mine.
His tongue parted my lips without hesitation — hot, demanding — claiming me. I gasped, and he swallowed the sound, pulling me deeper.
The kiss spiraled fast, messy and breathless — a push and pull of tongues and teeth, of want and war.
There was no gentleness, only raw, consuming need.
His hands roamed my body with a hunger that felt like desperation. When his fingers dug into my hips and pulled me flush against him, I felt him — hard, insistent — pressing against my stomach.
A soft, helpless sound escaped me — half-whimper, half-plea — and he answered with another kiss, deeper, more frantic.
He wasn’t kissing me.
He was devouring me.
His mouth moved lower, teeth nipping gently at the tender skin of my neck before his tongue soothed the sting.
I gasped, tilting my head back, caught between trembling fear and irresistible pleasure as my body melted beneath his touch.
His hands found the hem of my shirt. With swift, confident motion, he pulled it over my head, leaving me bare from the waist up. A chill from the forest air skittered over my skin.
But there was no time to think— his mouth captured one of my nipples, swirling and tasting, sending waves of pleasure crashing through me.
“Lean,” I whispered, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close as he continued to claim me.
“Please…”
He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, eyes dark with hunger, breath ragged.
“Please what, Aria? Tell me what you want.”
“I… don’t know,” I admitted, voice trembling, barely more than a breath.
“I don’t know what I want.”
A slow, satisfied smile curled his lips — predatory, promising both pleasure and pain.
“Good,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous.
“Because I know exactly what I want. And I’m going to have it.”
He seized my lips again — fierce, demanding — his hands roaming, claiming every curve, every line.
My arms tightened around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened into a wild, intoxicating dance.
Lean’s hands slid to the waistband of my pants and with practiced ease, he pulled them down, exposing me to his heated gaze.
A flush of embarrassment rushed through me, mingling with fierce anticipation.
His lips trailed a path down my stomach, teasing, tasting, before his tongue dipped into my navel, sending shivers rippling through me.
I gasped, hips rising involuntarily as his breath heated my inner thighs.
He looked up, eyes dark and hungry.
“You’re so beautiful, Aria. So perfect.”
My cheeks burned, my body trembling with need. The sensation of his tongue on my skin was exquisite torture, leaving me aching for more.
He took his time, swirling his tongue, tasting every inch, drawing out my pleasure with deliberate patience. My breath hitched, nipples hardening, core throbbing with an insistent ache.
When he finally pulled away, lips glistening, my hand felt empty without his touch. I glanced down, then back at him, wide-eyed, caught between shock and longing.
A slow, seductive smile spread across his face — promising dark, delicious things yet to come.
“That was just the beginning, Aria,” he said, voice low and velvety.
“I want more. All of you. I want to explore every inch, taste every part, feel you come undone beneath me. I want to hear you scream my name as I make you mine.”
His words flooded through me like a wave, setting my blood on fire.
I knew I should resist, put distance between us — but I couldn’t move. I was his, utterly and completely —
“Please,” I whispered, voice raw with longing, desperate for more.
“I need you.”
He growled low in response — a primal, possessive sound that sent chills down my spine.
“You have me, Aria. All of me. Forever.”
His hands roamed over me again, memorizing every curve, every line.
He gripped my hips, pulling me closer, the hard length of him pressing into my stomach.
I whined — a soft, needy sound — lost beneath his hungry mouth as he devoured me.
His mouth hovered just above my skin, breath hot, hands steady as they held me captive beneath him.
Every inch of my body ached with anticipation.
But just as his hand slipped lower, and the final barrier between us was about to fall — everything changed.
His body stiffened.
“Lean?” I whispered, blinking up at him.
His expression faltered. The fire in his eyes dimmed, confusion flickering there —
He swayed.
“Lean?” I repeated, panic edging my voice now, sitting up slightly.
“What’s wrong?”
But he didn’t answer.
“Lean?”
His weight sagged heavily against me, forehead resting on my shoulder, unmoving.
Panic flared through me, cutting through the haze of desire.
I pushed him gently. Then harder.
“Lean!” I said again, voice sharp with fear.
No response.
His eyes closed. His skin was clammy.
His breathing — once ragged and hungry — was now shallow and uneven.
“Lean?” I whispered, uncertainty twisting my chest.
His body wavered.
He blinked once, slowly — like trying to focus —
And then — he collapsed.