CHAPTER 33
ARIA
I finally managed to wriggle free from under him, my limbs shaking, breath ragged. He didn’t fight me. He didn’t move at all.
“Lean,” I whispered, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. His skin was pale now—too pale—and cold with sweat.
My heart pounded as I scanned his body, hands trembling as I reached for him.
There was too much blood.
It soaked into his clothes, smeared across his chest, and pooled beneath him on the forest floor.
My fingers found the worst of it—the wound near his collarbone still oozing. But it wasn’t just that.
There were other injuries too.
Gunshot wounds.
Still fresh.
Still inside him.
“Oh god,” I breathed, my stomach twisting in knots as the pieces slammed together in my mind.
The bullets—he never got them out.
He was bleeding out. Slowly, silently, inside my arms.
“Why didn’t you say something?” My voice broke, raw and trembling.
“Why the hell were you only focused on my wounds when you were hurting too?”
I pressed my hand harder against the ragged tear in his side, the heat of his blood slick beneath my fingers.
Anger flared hot and sharp, cutting through the fear.
How could he be so reckless?
So damn stubborn?
“You idiot,” I hissed, voice low and furious, trembling with a mix of fear and rage.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? To yourself? You could’ve died.”
Lean’s body trembled beneath me, fragile, slipping away like grains of sand through my fingers, and the helpless ache in my chest burned hotter with every second.
My hands shook as I pressed against the wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding, but it was no use.
He groaned softly, head lolling to the side, barely there.
My throat tightened so much I thought I might choke. I had no idea what I was doing. But I couldn’t just sit here, watching him fade away like this.
“I’m going to help you,” I whispered, mostly to steady myself, but also to reach him.
“Just… hold on.”
I swallowed hard, steadying my breath and my racing heart. Whatever this was, whatever it took, I had to do it now.
I ripped open the blood-soaked fabric around the wound, breath hitching at the rawness of it.
And then I saw it—dark, cold, and cruel—a bullet, lodged just beneath his skin, too deep for my fingers to reach.
My stomach churned at the sight.
But there was no time to hesitate.
This had to come out.
Now.
My fingers trembled as I pressed against the jagged edge of the bullet buried in his chest. I tried to grip it, to pull it free—but it was lodged too deep, slick with blood, slipping through my grasp every time.
Panic bubbled up in my chest as I looked around desperately, searching for anything—anything—that could help.
There was no time, no tools, no second chance.
Only one way.
Swallowing my fear, I leaned in closer, my breath shaky and uneven.
My mouth hovered just above the torn flesh, heart pounding so loud I thought he’d hear it.
I pressed my lips gently against the wound, sealing around it as best I could, and sucked.
Slowly, painfully, the bullet began to shift, inching free from the depths of his skin.
The taste of blood was metallic and warm, and bile rose in my throat, but I forced it down, forced myself to keep going.
I couldn’t fail him—not now.
I sucked, trying to draw the bullet out, spitting blood and gasping between each attempt. Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t stop.
“You’re not dying here,” I whispered desperately against his skin.
“Do you hear me? You’re not leaving me.”
Another pull, harder this time—and I felt it.
The sharp edge of the bullet grazed my tongue.
I spat again, blood splashing onto the leaves, and reached in with my fingers, finally tugging the small, hot piece of metal free.
I held it in my shaking hand, staring at it for half a second before tossing it aside and moving to the next wound.
I didn’t know how much time we had. I didn’t know if this would be enough.
But I couldn’t let him go.
Not like this.
Not now.
I moved from one wound to the next. I’d already pulled two bullets from his chest, each one a battle between nausea and desperation.
But the last one…
I hesitated, my gaze dropping to the final wound—right near the junction of his thigh.
My face burned even as panic surged inside me. The wound was deep, and dark blood continued to spill out in steady pulses.
It had to come out.
I had to do this.
“He’s dying,” I whispered aloud, trying to drown out the chaos in my head.
“You don’t get to be embarrassed. Just save him.”
I knelt between his legs, my hands trembling as I peeled back the shredded fabric to expose the injury.
My breath caught.
The bullet was lodged just above his inner thigh, dangerously close to—
I swallowed hard and leaned in, bracing myself.
The moment my mouth sealed over the wound, I could feel the heat of his skin, the pounding of his pulse beneath my lips.
I sucked hard, gagging on the taste of blood, spitting and trying again.
The position forced my cheek against the base of him, and I flinched when I felt him twitch beneath me.
Please, no.
“Lean,” I whispered, my voice cracking.
“You need to stay still. Please, just hold on.”
I leaned in closer, angling myself to reach the bullet lodged deep in his thigh, my cheek brushed against something firm and warm.
My breath caught in my throat.
The realization hit a moment later—my lips had grazed him on his penis.
I froze as I felt him swell against my face.
His body reacted instinctively.
Mortification and horror battled inside me, but I couldn’t move.
Not yet. I had to get it out.
I sucked again, harder, and his hips jerked slightly.
A low, guttural sound escaped his lips, and my heart dropped as I felt him brush against my cheek.
Not intentional—couldn’t be.
He wasn’t even fully conscious.
“Lean, please—don’t…” My voice broke, filled with panic.
“I’m just trying to help you. You have to—God—just stop moving.”
But he moaned again, my name tumbling from his mouth like a plea.
“Aria…”
His voice was thick, barely more than a whisper, lost somewhere between delirium and something urgent.
He didn’t fully know what was happening, but his body—his need—was reacting anyway, instinct taking over where his mind couldn’t keep up.
Panic twisted sharp and sudden in my gut, but beneath it, something darker stirred—something raw and tangled that I wasn’t ready to face.
I hadn’t meant to touch him like that.
It was a mistake, an accident—just a slip of my hand.
But his reaction was immediate.
Instant.
Undeniable.
And what terrified me wasn’t him—no, it was me.
The way heat flooded my cheeks and settled low in my belly.
My body, traitorous and curious, reacted before my mind could make sense of any of it.
What was wrong with me?
I closed my eyes, my hands trembling as my mouth unconsciously moved closer to his cock.
His breath hitched, a sharp intake of air that betrayed his body's unexpected response. The sound sent a jolt of electricity through me, igniting a fire in my core.
Lean, unable to resist the intoxicating allure, took control. His hand gently yet firmly cupped the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair, as I knelt to tend to the wound.
The touch was both tender and commanding, a silent directive that sent shivers down my spine.
He began to actively push himself into my mouth, his grip on my head tightening as he guided my movements with a purposeful intensity.
Each thrust was deeper, more insistent than the last—driven by something fierce and unspoken. I could feel the tension coiling in his body, the hunger in his touch, and it mirrored the storm gathering inside me.
My breath came in shaky gasps, my heart thundering in my chest as sensation flooded through me, hot and overwhelming.
His hands gripped my waist with a kind of reverence laced in desperation, like he needed to feel every inch of me to believe I was real.
My skin burned under his touch, every nerve straining toward him, every inch of me alight with anticipation.
I didn’t know where I ended and he began—all I knew was the way my body responded, unbidden, aching for more.
My moans caught in my throat, soft and breathless, but the tension between us was unmistakable—alive and electric.
Lean’s breathing was uneven, each ragged inhale fanning over my skin, speaking volumes of the desire he struggled to contain. It stirred something deep in me, a fire I couldn’t ignore.
The heat of his body wrapped around me, undeniable and overwhelming. I could feel it in the way his hands gripped me, in the thrum of his pulse against mine.
Every nerve lit up in response, desire blooming in places I didn’t know could ache.
When the climax hit, it was a wave of pure ecstasy, crashing over us both, leaving us breathless and spent.
Lean, still trembling with the aftershocks, leaned down and captured my lips in a fierce, passionate kiss.
I could taste the essence of our shared pleasure, a bittersweet reminder of the intensity we had just experienced.
He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, and I snuggled into his embrace, my head resting on his chest.
As my eyes fluttered closed, a contented sigh escaped my lips, and I drifted into a deep, satisfied sleep, cradled in the safety of his arms.
His arms slid around me, holding me tight, as if letting go wasn’t an option.
I melted into him, every muscle aching but satisfied, my heartbeat gradually slowing as his warmth wrapped around me like a promise.
My head found its place on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart lulling me into calm.
A soft sigh slipped from my lips.
Whatever had just happened between us—it had changed something. Maybe everything. But in that moment, cocooned in his embrace, I didn’t question it.
I just let sleep take me