Chapter 9
Nine
LILITH
To say that the Shadowing left me freaked out is an understatement, really.
After finding me in a state of sheer panic, which only added to my embarrassment, Vaughn, surprisingly, didn’t mock me like I expected. Instead, his Shadow wolf scoured the forest, reporting back that everything seemed normal, no immediate danger. Still, despite his reassurances, I can’t shake the feeling that something is very wrong.
I’ve tried to convince myself that it was all in my head, that my nerves were simply getting the best of me. But no matter how hard I try to rationalize it, a nagging voice inside me refuses to believe that was normal.
There was a presence there, a dark and foreboding energy that didn’t belong in that place. One that could communicate. And the blood on the forest floor. What was that?
But what do I know? I’m a first-year and it’s not like I’m an expert—
“Gods, I can’t believe I’m actually a Prey,” Tony sighs beside me, snapping me out of my thoughts as we make our way up the narrow stairway to the Predator dorms. It’s the one time of year Preys are allowed in without feeling like they’re walking into a lion’s den. They throw this huge party to celebrate the new Preys and Predators officially joining the fold.
“At least you managed to summon a rabbit,” I say, giving his shoulder a reassuring pat. “That’s more than the ones who got kicked out can say.”
Four students had to leave this year because they couldn’t summon their Shadows. It’s the highest number in years. After I failed that Spellcasting assignment, I was sure I’d be one of them.
Thank the gods, it worked out—or I think it did. Mostly. I’m the only female Predator this year, which I guess I should be relieved.
“And you didn’t have an asthma attack,” I add with a small smile. “You handled it pretty gracefully.”
Which is more than I can say for myself.
“Hmph. Fine,” Tony pouts, crossing his arms and letting out a dramatic huff of defeat. “You’re right. I’m just glad I get to stay here with my bestie,” he adds, linking his arm through mine with an exaggerated grin. It’s enough to pull a small, half-hearted smile from me. There’s still too much uncertainty gnawing at my insides for a full one.
As we make our way down the hallway, the distant thudding of music grows louder, its steady beat reaching us before we even round the corner.
It’s hard to believe that by tomorrow morning, I’ll be moving into the Predator dorms permanently, leaving behind the cramped, shared rooms. The thought of having my own room with my own bathroom excites me, but there’s also a twinge of sadness knowing Tony won’t be right beside me anymore. It’s comforting to have someone watching your back.
On a positive note, I don’t have to use the locker room showers anymore.
As we push open the heavy wooden door, we’re immediately hit by a surge of energy so strong I can almost taste it—a result of dozens of Predators and Preys gathered in one space. Faintly glowing orbs hover near the ceiling, casting a soft, otherworldly light over the room.
To our right is an impressive wooden bar, lined with bottles of swirling, magic-infused cocktails that almost seem to invite you over the longer you stare.
“It’s not all bad, apparently,” I tell Tony, nodding toward the bar. Two Preys stand behind it, expertly mixing drinks with magic in a way I’ve never seen before. “You can make great cocktails now…”
Across the room, the air is thick with smoke, the rich scent of various magical substances floating toward us, something I recognize all too well. Natalie and I have dabbled with similar things a few times.
And then there’s the crowd. They dance, move, and touch like a single, pulsating mass. The music pumps through every inch of my body, invigorating and enticing me to join in their rhythmic movements. It slowly releases all the tension I felt seconds before. It’s mesmerizing, I can’t tear my eyes away from the hypnotic flow of bodies.
“I don’t know what I expected… but it wasn’t this,” Tony admits, nervously running his hand through his hair.
To his left, I spot the cute blonde who’s been eyeing him for days. She turned out to be a Prey too, and this is his moment to make a move.
I lean in discreetly. “Don’t be too obvious, but the blonde behind you is checking you out. Go grab her a drink,” I whisper with a nudge.
Tony’s eyes widen, and his mouth opens in surprise, but he quickly recovers, shaking his head. “No, I can’t. I can’t just leave you alone…”
I roll my eyes. “Tony, seriously. Go have fun. I’m not a damsel in distress. Besides, this is a perfect chance for both of us to meet new people and you’re kind of cockblocking me right now.”
Tony snorts and shakes his head, causing his glasses to slip down his nose. He pushes them back up with a chuckle. “Fine, but if you need anything—like a wingman or whatever—just, I don’t know, signal me somehow, and I’ll be there.”
“Got it,” I grin, nudging him again. “Now go.”
With that, he heads off. I watch him make his way toward the blonde, moving with surprising confidence. Maybe it’s because she’s also a Prey, or maybe because he’s rocking that formal suit tonight. When her face lights up as he approaches, I know encouraging him was the right call.
Once he disappears into the crowd, a strange sense of loneliness creeps in, despite the pulsing energy all around me. I wanted us to meet new people, but now that he’s gone, I feel oddly exposed without him nearby. I knew change was coming, but it still catches me off guard.
I sigh, turning my attention back to the room. The energy is intoxicating—the thumping bass, the seamless flow of bodies moving together in rhythm. It draws me in.
I head toward the dance floor and let the music take over. For a while, I lose myself in the moment, dancing with no one and everyone, unaware of time or space. It’s liberating, my body tingling with excitement as I surrender to the beat.
When I finally need a break, breathless and drenched in sweat, I retreat to a quiet corner of the room. I barely get three seconds of solitude before someone interrupts me.
I sense Vaughn’s presence behind me before I actually see him, and a wave of dread ripples through me. I consider keeping my back turned, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave. But, knowing him, that’s wishful thinking. A beat passes and neither of us seems to be going anywhere.
With a reluctant sigh, I finally turn to face him. “Out of all the places, you have to be here to bother me?”
He’s holding a drink—dark liquor with glowing cubes bobbing inside. Annoyingly, it looks delicious. Vaughn flashes that infuriatingly charming smirk of his. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Fox.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Since when are we on a nickname basis?”
He takes a slow sip from his drink, and even in the dim light, I can see the way his throat moves as he swallows. “Since last night, when I found you freaked out, and you admitted you summoned a fox..." Ah. There it is. I was wondering when he’d bring that up.
Fair enough. I can’t deny it—I was freaked out. Still am, honestly, though I’m doing my best to push it aside. After all, opportunities to let loose like this don’t come often, and it was actually working. Until Vaughn showed up.
His icy blue eyes, always carrying a mysterious glint, sweep over me. I cross my arms in a feeble attempt to shield myself from the intensity of his gaze. But despite my defiance, the small, infuriating smile curling on his lips stirs something inside me. Gods, how can someone so aggravating also be so ridiculously attractive?
“Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy me?”
His grin widens, and he steps closer, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. “I do. But looking at you tonight…” His gaze flicks to my sleek black dress and leather corset, and I can feel the heat of his attention. “I couldn’t resist.”
There’s a spark in his eyes that could ignite a bonfire.
Fuck.
“Compliments won’t get you anywhere with me,” I snap, though my hand betrays me as it reaches for the glass in his fingers. If I’m going to survive this encounter, I need a drink. The liquid slides down my throat with a smooth, perfect blend of bitterness and sweetness. Damn it—he has good taste.
I clear my throat, trying to regain composure despite his proximity making my pulse race. “Look, I appreciate you showing up last night,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady, “but that doesn’t change anything between us. We’re not friends. We never will be.” I set the glass on a nearby table.
Vaughn leans against the wall with one arm, casually trapping me in place. His intense gaze never leaves mine, and I feel my breath hitch. He’s way too close—so close that the warm scent of sandalwood clings to the air between us. Gods, he even smells good.
“I’m not looking to be your friend,” he says softly, his voice smooth but firm. He towers over me effortlessly, his messy hair falling over his forehead in that annoyingly perfect way. His dark shirt with leather accents clings to him in a way that only makes him look more dangerous—and, much to my frustration, more alluring.
“Then what are you here for?” I whisper, refusing to break eye contact. He’s the one intruding on my space, so if anyone should look away, it’s him.
But he doesn’t. Instead, Vaughn moves closer, his body nearly brushing against mine. My heart races, and though my mind screams at me to shove him away and demand he leave, I stay frozen, caught between resisting and something else—something far more confusing.
Then, without warning, he dips his head lower, and the faintest brush of his lips grazes mine. A flood of emotions surges through me—anger, desire, frustration—all wrapped up in this maddening pull he seems to have over me.
What the hell is wrong with me?
My body reacts before my mind can catch up, my fingers tangling in his dark hair with such force that I half hope I’ll pull some of it out. He deserves it. The momentary sting seems to fuel him, drawing him even closer until his entire frame blocks out the world around us.
But that’s not enough for him. With a snap of his fingers, a dark fog swirls around us, cloaking us in a misty barrier that shuts out the curious eyes beyond. As if this fog can somehow hide the shame I feel for surrendering to, quite possibly, the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.
“I despise you,” I manage to murmur against his lips, but even as the words leave my mouth, I can’t bring myself to pull away.
His hands roam over my body with a possessive touch; one settling on my hip while the other trails up my thigh, lifting with it the hem of my dress, and igniting a fire within me. Shudders run through me, making me a prisoner to this wicked sensation.
“Mm, you can keep telling yourself that, Fox,” he taunts with a low hum against my lips. Every word he speaks only fuels my irritation toward him, so I make it a point to silence him with a kiss.
My lips devour his with such ferocity that I question my own sanity. But he responds in kind, using his body to pin me further against the wall and immobilize me completely. And yet, I find myself willingly surrendering.
And the worst part is, deep down, I want this.
I want to do this.
I need a distraction, and no one distracts me quite like he does. My mind has been racing with thoughts about what really happened in the forest, but now that he’s here, all I can focus on is him. And how much I hate that I want him.
A sly smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as his hand drifts further upward, stopping right below my throbbing center. His touch lingers there, silently questioning how far he can go. I refuse to acknowledge any gentlemanly tendencies in him and instead, roll my hips toward him, silently urging him to go further. Without hesitation, his long fingers slide beneath the thin lace of my underwear and into my wetness.
I bite back a groan, eyelids fluttering, as he prods at my sensitive entrance.
“You despise me so much… Yet you’re so damn wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
“I’m not wet for you,” I bark back, gripping his hair and yanking his head backward.
He responds by letting a finger slip inside me in one slow, deliberate stroke that makes me clench around him. I tip my head back, biting my bottom lip to keep from giving him the satisfaction of hearing me moan. My body betrays me by leaning against the wall for support while I draw in a small breath to regain my composure.
Vaughn arches an eyebrow, his lips a breath away from mine, his eyes locked on my face. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
It’s obvious he’s enjoying every damn second of seeing me squirm.
Slowly, he pulls one finger out and thrusts two in, while his thumb presses against my clit. The sudden movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through me and my vision darkens.
“I said I’m not wet for you, Vaughn,” I pant, hating the breathiness in my voice. Damn it. “So, what are you going to do about it?” I challenge, done with this back-and-forth chit-chat. Vaughn is only somewhat tolerable when he’s not talking, and I prefer to keep him that way.
For once, he takes my words seriously. His free hand finds its way to my throat, applying just enough pressure to heighten my pleasure. With every thrust of his fingers, his pace quickens, sending waves of tingling sensation through me. I’d never in a million years admit to him that he’s hitting all the right spots, as if he’s known me forever.
My body responds eagerly to him, my pussy throbbing around him and dripping with wetness. As stars twinkle faintly in my vision, my knees shake from the intensity.
“Thought so, Fox,” he whispers against my jaw, trailing his lips along my skin. His gaze takes in every reaction, from the scrunch of my face to the parting of my lips and the heavy breaths escaping them. It’s oddly exposing, but I can’t bring myself to care.
I want to stimulate him in return, but I can’t make myself remove my hand from his hair, which I grip tightly, or his shirt, which I wish I could use to strangle him.
“Your mouth says one thing, and your body another. You like this…”
My parted lips struggle to take in breath as waves of pleasure crash over me, starting at my core and seeping outwards like wildfire. My legs tremble uncontrollably as I try to hold myself on the edge. My eyes flutter shut, but his grip around my throat tightens ever-so-slightly, demanding my full attention.
“Eyes on me, Fox. Watch me as you come,” he commands.
My first instinct is to tell him to fuck off, but the moment my eyes flutter open, I’m there. An orgasm hits me hard, coursing through every inch of my body. My senses are overwhelmed with a thousand tiny tingles, leaving no part of me untouched.
I cling onto his wrist, digging my nails into his skin in an attempt to ground myself through the overwhelming euphoria. I take a few moments to recover, and he allows them before pulling back.
In an instant, the fog around us dissipates, and I straighten my dress, suddenly acutely aware of what we’ve just done. The lingering sensation of his fingers inside me is a vivid reminder of our actions as our eyes lock. He opens his mouth, clearly ready to make some quip or, worse yet, comment on this unexpected encounter.
“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t,” I say firmly, cutting him off before he can speak.
His gaze darkens, still heavy on mine. He may be skilled with his fingers, but when it comes to talking, he falls short. Yet, even without words, his eyes convey everything he wants to say.
One thing is for sure; I’ll never hear the end of this from him.