CH-4

Aria’s POV

"You should have never come here."

Lorien’s words were the last thing I remembered before the world faded into darkness.

Now, I was waking up somewhere unfamiliar—somewhere cold, sterile, and thick with the scent of something metallic beneath the soft undertones of lavender.

I was waking up in hell.

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The Infirmary

A dull throbbing spread through my body before I could fully open my eyes. My limbs felt like lead, heavy and aching, as if I had been crushed beneath an unbearable weight. My throat was dry, parched like I had swallowed dust and forgotten how to breathe.

Blinking against the dim light, I tried to sit up—only to be met with a sharp, searing pain that shot through my side like a blade had just buried itself between my ribs. A choked sound slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

"You shouldn’t move yet," a voice murmured from the shadows.

The deep, quiet words sent an immediate chill racing down my spine.

Lorien.

He was seated in a darkened corner of the room, his elbows resting on his knees, silver-gray eyes watching me with an unreadable expression. He looked as he always did—distant, cold, as if he had already decided my fate and was merely waiting for me to realize it myself.

"You collapsed during the trial," he said, his tone flat and devoid of emotion.

No kidding.

I shifted carefully, swallowing against the discomfort. "And you just… watched?"

His gaze flickered slightly before dropping—lower, to my neck.

Something in my chest tightened.

Before I could press him for an answer, the infirmary door creaked open. Lorien didn’t move. He simply disappeared into the shadows, vanishing as if he had never been there at all.

But I wasn’t alone.

From behind the thin curtain separating my bed from the rest of the room, voices drifted through the silence.

"You can’t just let her run loose," a woman said smoothly, each syllable laced with a quiet authority.

Headmistress Selene.

"She doesn’t belong here," Lorien responded, his voice lower now, colder.

"And yet," Selene mused, "you’re the one who carried her off the trial grounds, aren’t you?"

My breath caught in my throat.

Lorien had… carried me?

A long pause followed.

"She’s not like the others," he muttered, the words sharp but careful, like he didn’t want to say them aloud. "Something is wrong with her blood."

A shiver raced down my spine.

Selene gave a soft, knowing chuckle. "You already feel it, don’t you?" she said, almost amused. "She’s a threat to you, Lorien."

I held perfectly still, barely daring to breathe.

Lorien’s response was dangerously quiet.

"Then I’ll handle it."

The words hung heavy in the air, a promise, a threat—both at once.

A moment later, the door clicked shut.

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Sebastian’s Game

I barely had time to process what I had just overheard before the curtain was ripped open with zero warning.

I yelped, jerking upright on instinct, only for another sharp stab of pain to shoot through my ribs.

A deep, amused chuckle met my reaction.

Sebastian Voss grinned down at me, one hand braced lazily against the bedpost, the other resting in his pocket. His golden eyes gleamed in the dim candlelight, his expression every bit as smug and infuriating as the last time I had seen him.

"You look like you’ve been through hell, sweetheart," he drawled.

I scowled. "What do you want?"

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something silkier. "To welcome you properly."

Before I could react, he held out a crystal goblet filled with something dark and thick, the liquid swirling like slow-moving ink under the light.

My stomach churned.

"Drink," he said.

I pressed my lips together, shaking my head. "No way."

Sebastian sighed dramatically, setting the goblet down on the nightstand. "You’re making this difficult, Aria."

Then, in a blink, he was on the bed, caging me in with his body.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

His proximity was overwhelming—too close, too warm, his scent wrapping around me like something rich and intoxicating.

His fingers trailed down my arm, slow and deliberate, his touch featherlight but possessive.

"You should really be careful, you know," he murmured, his breath brushing against my skin. "There are worse things than me in this school."

His hand continued downward, fingertips grazing over my pulse.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

"Your heart is racing," he noted, tilting his head slightly as if committing the sound to memory.

I swallowed hard. "Get off me."

His lips curled, but his grip on my wrist tightened slightly, just enough to make me feel it.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he lifted my hand to his mouth.

I barely had time to react before he dragged the sharp edge of his fangs over my skin—slow, deliberate, enough to make me feel every single movement.

A strange, involuntary shiver ran through me.

I hated the way my body responded.

Hated the way my stomach coiled with heat, my breath hitching in my throat.

His tongue flicked out, grazing my pulse point.

A quiet gasp escaped me before I could stop it.

Then, just as quickly as he had pinned me, he was gone.

He picked up the goblet again, extending it toward me once more.

"Last chance, sweetheart."

My skin still burned where he had touched me.

I didn’t know what was worse—the way my body reacted or the fact that he had noticed.

Without another word, I grabbed the goblet and downed the whole thing.

Sebastian’s smirk widened.

"Good girl."

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Lorien’s Fury

The moment I stepped out of the infirmary, the temperature dropped.

The hall turned ice-cold.

A shadow moved.

And suddenly, Lorien was there.

I barely had time to react before his hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me into a darkened alcove.

I let out a startled gasp, my back hitting the cold stone wall.

Lorien’s silver eyes burned with something raw, something sharp and unreadable.

"You drank from him."

It wasn’t a question. It was a fact.

I lifted my chin. "I had no choice."

His grip on my wrist tightened.

Something flickered in his eyes, something dangerous.

Then, without warning, his fingers trailed up—brushing against my jaw, tilting my chin up just slightly.

My breath hitched.

The heat of him was suffocating, the space between us far too small.

"Do you know what you’ve done?" he murmured, voice dangerously soft.

The tension between us was suffocating, thick and charged like the air before a storm.

My lips parted.

For a second—just a single second—I thought he might kiss me.

Then, just as quickly, his grip vanished, his expression turning to ice once more.

"You should have never come here."