Chapter 10: Crimson Whispers
Aria couldn't feel her legs as she stepped back into the dorm. Her fingertips were still tingling from where Lucien's hands had held her. Her lips... she raised her hand to touch them, trembling.
"A kiss… he really kissed me..." she murmured, blinking in disbelief.
She didn't understand it. He was cold, cruel, distant—and yet, tonight he held her like she mattered. Like she wasn't just some fragile human tossed into this hell of a school.
Her heart was a mess. Emotions she didn't want to name stirred inside her, tangled with fear, confusion, and something… warmer.
Inside her room, she kicked off her heels, groaning in relief. "Ow... my poor feet," she muttered, limping toward the bathroom. Her dress sparkled faintly in the dim light, the scent of roses and night air still clinging to it.
She looked in the mirror and gasped. Her cheeks were flushed bright pink.
"Ugh… get it together, Aria," she scolded herself. "It was just a kiss. Just a... soul-melting, ground-shaking kiss."
She slapped her cheeks lightly and turned on the shower. The sound of running water filled the silence, calming her nerves just a little. She stepped under the warm spray, closing her eyes.
But her thoughts wouldn't stop.
"Why did he kiss me?"
The image of Lucien's intense eyes haunted her. The way he asked for permission, voice so deep, so soft, almost pleading. It wasn't the Lucien she knew.
She shook her head.
"No, no, no. He's still the same cold jerk. This doesn't mean anything. It doesn't!" she whispered to herself, scrubbing her arms furiously.
Yet, the memory lingered.
"Do you even like him…?"
"No!" she said out loud, glaring at the tiled wall.
"Then why are you blushing like a lovesick idiot?" her reflection replied in her head, teasingly.
She sighed, leaning against the wall of the shower. "I don't know… I don't know what's happening to me."
When she stepped out, she wrapped herself in a towel and plopped down on her bed, hair still damp. The dorm was quiet. No Lucien.
She glanced at the door unconsciously.
Then groaned and rolled her eyes at herself. "No, I'm not waiting for him. I'm not!"
A second later, she mumbled, "…Maybe just a little."
Suddenly, the doorknob twisted.
She sat up, heart leaping.
Lucien stepped inside, his presence like a shadow in the moonlight. His crimson eyes locked onto her—then slowly, they trailed down to the towel wrapped around her.
She squeaked, grabbing a blanket to cover herself. "Wh-What are you doing here?!"
He raised a brow. "Relax, human. I've already seen worse."
"Get out!"
He smirked, walking in further instead. "You smell different," he said casually, sniffing the air. "Like… warm roses... and temptation."
Her eyes widened. "Don't say things like that!"
He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Why not? Embarrassed? Or excited?"
She backed up until her legs hit the edge of the bed. "I—Lucien… I'm warning you…"
He leaned in, placing both hands on either side of her. "You know I could take what I want. But I'm not going to. Because I want you to offer it to me…"
Her breath caught.
"I don't understand you," she whispered.
"I don't understand myself around you either," he admitted, eyes flickering. "You make me… lose control. And I hate it."
She stared up at him. "Then why are you here?"
"Because I can't stay away from you."
There was a beat of silence—then, slowly, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers.
She didn't stop him this time.
The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, until her knees gave in and she sank onto the bed, pulling him down with her. His breath was hot against her neck now.
"Aria…" he growled. "I can't… I need it. Your blood. Just a little. Let me taste you."
She froze, heart hammering.
His hands trembled against her skin.
"I'll be gentle. I swear. I won't hurt you."
Her eyes met his—those haunting red eyes that for once weren't cold… but desperate.
She swallowed. "O-Okay…"
He didn't wait. He lowered his mouth to her neck slowly, reverently. And when his fangs sank into her skin—it wasn't pain.
It was warmth. Fire.
She gasped, clutching his shirt. It was intimate. Almost… too much.
He drank slow. Controlled. And when he pulled away, he licked the wound softly, sealing it.
"Thank you…" he whispered, brushing his lips against her ear.
She was trembling. "Lucien… What are we doing?"
"I don't know," he replied quietly, forehead against hers. "But I don't want to stop."
They lay there in silence, breaths tangled, hearts louder than ever.
And outside, the wind howled, carrying whispers of things still to come…