BURN ME BETTER
Noelani was not drunk.
Okay. Maybe a little.
But it wasn't her fault. The glowing-blue-vodka-thing had tasted like candy and the girls from fire class had handed her two, and she hadn't had dinner.
And now she was sitting on someone's couch in a room full of pulsing bass and glowing students and definitely not thinking about the way her thighs kept brushing together like they were trying to tell her something.
She took another sip.
Across the room, Caeden leaned against the wall like din incarnate. Shirt open. Tattoos molten. Watching her like she was something he'd already undressed with his mouth.
When their eyes met, he raised a brow, then he mouthed:
She looked down. It was just a black slip dress. Maybe a little short. Maybe a little sheer.
Maybe she should've worn a coat.
But she didn't want to hide. For once, she wanted to glow without apology. She wanted to be a little dangerous.
Still. The way Caeden was looking at her?
She was going to combust.
Suddenly, he was moving. So was Rowan—emerging from the crowd like a shadow given form, silver eyes locked on hers, lips pulled into something wolfish.
Lysander wasn't far behind. Dark suit, darker expression. Glass of whiskey in hand. Like he owned the place. Like he already owned her.
And Aeryn? He was the last to arrive, slipping in through the back like death in velvet. Silent. Watchful. Dangerous.
Noelani, already a little giggly, felt her stomach flutter.
"Oh no," she muttered. "They're all here. This is bad."
She stood too fast.
The room spun.
A hand caught her waist. Hot. Familiar.
Rowan.
"You're drunk," he murmured, amused.
"I'm not—" she blinked up at him. "Okay maybe a tiny bit."
He chuckled low in his throat. "And glowing again. Fuck, starlight. Look at you."
"I didn't mean to glow—"
"I think you did." His hand slid a fraction lower. Thumb brushing the bare strip of skin at her hip. "You wore this for us, didn't you?"
"I—I—maybe."
"You want us to look," Rowan growled softly. "Want us to touch."
She whimpered.
"You want to be our good girl so bad, don't you?"
She nearly collapsed.
Then Caeden was there, behind her. Hands hot and rough, breath against her ear.
"Fuck, sweetness," He rasped. "You're soaked through this little dress. Bet if I slide my fingers down, I'll feel that ruined little cunt twitching."
Her knees buckled. Caeden caught her. Rowan steadied her.
Lysander appeared on her other side. One finger tilted her chin up, his eyes gleamed.
"Look at you," he murmured. "So soft. So eager. You get a few sips of liqour and forget how to behave."
"I'm fine," she whispered, but it came out breathy.
"No, little star. You're needy."
Aeryn's voice curled behind her like smoke.
She turned—only for his fingers to slip beneath the hem of her dress. Not touching. Not quite. Just grazing the edge of her underwear like a promise and a threat.
"Say the word," he said. "And I'll drop to my knees and worship you in front of every soul in this room."
She made a strangled sound.
Caeden leaned in, mouth hot against her ear. "Fuck, you like this. You love being teased. Being touched just enough to make you ache. You want us to take turns ruining you, don't you?"
"No," she breathed. "Yes. I don't—know"
Rowan's hand slid lower. Over her hip. Grazing the waistband of her panties.
"You don't have to know," he said. "We'll teach you. We'll teach that sweet little body how to beg."
Lysander traced a finger down her throat. "You're glowing like a goddess. And you don't even realize what you're doing to us."
"I just wanted to dance," she whispered.
"Sweet thing," Caeden chuckled darkly. "You walked into a room full of predators and offered us blood."
Suddenly—
A hush.
The air changed.
The temperature dropped.
And every single one of her bonded went still.
From across the room... he stepped in.
The Headmaster.
Impeccably dressed. Expression unreadable. Power coiled like a storm beneath his skin. He looked at her—no, he saw her—and something in the air cracked.
Rowan tensed.
Caeden swore under his breath.
Aeryn's hand clenched her hip.
Lysander looked like he wanted to set the room on fire.
But the Headmaster only said one thing.
"Miss Noelani. A word."
She blinked. "Did I... do something wrong?"
"Not yet," he said, eyes burning into hers. "But you're getting very, very close."
Then he turned and walked away.
Noelani just stood there, glowing and drunk and aching, her mates breathing like animals around her.
"What," she whispered, "the fuck was that?"
And beneath the Academy—
The ancient magic whispered again.
"Let them fight for you."
"Let them break each other."
"You were made to burn."
~