HELD DOWN, LIT UP
Noelani dreamed of hands again.
Too many hands.
Too gentle.
Too rough.
Too everywhere.
She was warm. Too warm. Her body humming like she'd been caught in a spell and never let out. Skin damp with sweat, magic flickering soft-gold under her breast, across her belly, the insides of her thighs.
She shifted in her sleep, hips twitching helplessly. Her mouth parted on a breathy whimper.
She didn't notice the bed wasn't empty.
Didn't notice until the hands touching her weren't a dream at all.
"Look at her," Rowan whispered, voice velvet and wrong. "She's glowing through her fucking underwear."
A low chuckle from someone behind her. "She's soaked through them, too."
Noelani gasped and jerked awake—
But a hand pressed gently to her throat, holding her still. Not tight. Not yet.
"Shh," Murmured Lysander near her ear, voice the edge of a blade. "You're fine, little star. Just stay soft. Stay still."
She blinked blearily. Rowan was at her front, eyes like stormlight. Caeden behind her, his tattooed hand slipping up her shirt, fingers barely grazing the underside of her breast. Aeryn sat at the foot of the bed, staring between her legs like he was starving. And the Headmaster...
He was seated calmly beside the bed. Watching. Not touching. Yet.
Her panties were soaked. Her thighs pressed together, trembling, her body betraying her utterly.
"You're all—you're in my room—I—I didn't—"
"You moaned our names in your sleep," Caeden whispered, teeth grazing the back of her neck. "That was your mistake."
"Wasnt a mistake," Rowan said darkly. His hand slid up her stomach. Fingers brushing the curve of her ribs. "It was a fucking invitation."
"N-no" she breathed. "I—"
"Sweetheart," Lysander said softly, voice cruel in it's gentleness, "You don't get to be this soft, this wet, this open—and pretend you don't want to be used."
She made a wounded sound—half sob, half plea.
Aeryn dragged a single finger over her inner thigh. Just over the cotton. A cruel, gentle stroke.
"Shes dripping," he said.
"Good girl," murmured Rowan, leaning down to kiss her pulse.
Noelani arched, hips twitching again, a sharp whimper escaping before she could bite it back.
"You glow when we touch you," the Headmaster said softly. It was the first time he spoke. His voice was like silk soaked in wine and sin. "It's like your body's begging for it."
Her cheeks burned. Her whole body did.
"Please don't—this isn't—I'm not like—"
"You are exactly like this," Lysander said. "You just don't want to admit how badly you need it."
"You want to be a good girl so bad," Caeden growled. "But your cunt's already making the decisions for you."
Noelani's squeaked, burying her face into the pillow. "D-don't say that!"
"Why not?" Rowan grinned. His fingers slipped under her waistband. "It's the truth."
And then—his knuckles brushed right over her slit, through the soaked fabric.
She screamed into the pillow.
The Headmaster stood.
They all froze.
He didn't speak. Just looked at her—glowing, panting, ruined—and reached into his coat pocket.
He pulled out a knife.
Noelani went completely still.
It was silver. Clean. Beautiful.
He didn't hand it to anyone. Just walked to the edge of the bed. Knelt. And ran the cool flat side of the blade gently along the outside of her thigh.
"Not for cutting," he said softly. "Not tonight. Just to remind you what it feels like to be wanted.
She shuddered so hard the mattress shifted.
"She likes it," Aeryn said lowly. "Little thing's pulsing."
"She'll come," Rowan said, gritting his teeth. "She's close."
"No." The Headmaster said. Quiet. Firm. Commanding.
"She doesn't get to come."
Five sets of hands pulled back. All at once.
Noelani whimpered in shock. In disbelief. She bucked. Her thighs trembled.
"Please—please—I was—" her voice cracked. She sobbed. "I was so close—!"
"Exactly," Lysander said darkly. "And now you'll stay that way."
"No," she whispered, blinking through tears. "You're mean."
Caeden bit her ear, dragging his teeth slow. "And you're fucking perfect when you cry."
"You're going to remember this feeling, little star," the Headmaster Murmured. "The ache. The heat. The way you glow with need. It's how you were meant to be."
And then they were gone.
Left her shaking, soaked, denied, and glowing under moonlight like a spell waiting to snap.
The party was a blur of light, sound, and too-sweet drinks.
Noelani had barely remembered how she got there—how somebody shoved a glitter cup in her hand, how voices swirled like spells around her ears, how someone had whispered, "Just try it, it'll help you relax."
She wanted to forget.
The heat. The ache.
The way they touched her and left her empty.
One drunk turned into three. Or four. She didn't count. Didn't care. The music pulses around her skin like magic, her laugh too loud, eyes glassy, her cheeks flushed.
She stumbled through the crowd, giggling. "Why is everything so...floaty?"
"Because you weigh nothing, little star." A familiar voice behind her. Deep. Low. Dangerous.
She spun—and swayed.
Caeden caught her effortlessly. His hand gripped her waist. Tight. Possessive.
"You're drunk," he said, grinning. "And glowing again."
"No, I'm not," she slurred. "I turned it off. I—I thinki figured it out. I'm in control."
"You're lit up like a fucking altar, sweetheart."
She blinked. "Oh."
Rowan appeared next, his eyes dark and stormy. "Who gave you the drink?"
"I—I don't remember. A girl? Or maybe a guy?" She paused, confused. "He had horns. I think."
Rowan's jaw clenched. Caeden looked like he was ready to murder someone.
"You shouldn't be here like this," Rowan said.
"I wanted to forget." Her voice was soft. "You left me. Like that. You touched me, I was so close, and then—then you stopped."
Caeden leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "It was better that way. You're sweeter when you ache."
"You're cruel," she whispered.
"You love it," he growled.
She whimpered.
And then Aeryn was there. Silent. A shadow. His hand curled around her wrist. "Come with us."
"No." Her voice trembled. "No—I'm angry—you all—you teased me, you said things, you—"
Rowan stepped close. "We worshipped you."
"You broke me!"
"You liked being broken." Lysander's voice now, calm as ever. "You liked being held down, choked, touched until you glowed so bright the whole bed lit up."
She was trembling again. Not from the cold.
"Stop it," she whispered. "You can't keep saying things like that—"
"Why?" The Headmaster's voice silenced everything. He stepped out from the shadows of the hall. Still in all black. Still impossibly composed. "You want us to stop pretending," he said. "You want to know what it feels like to be owned."
She stared at him. Dazed. Her knees buckled.
"Sir—" she breathed. "You—"
"I see you Noelani," he said darkly. "Even when you're drunk. Even when you're pretending you're not aching."
Caeden growled. "She's ours."
"Not only yours," the Headmaster murmured.
The air crackled.
Tension shot through the space. Raw. Territorial. Dangerous.
Noelani clutched her cup. Her fingers trembled. "I didn't mean to say anything bad. I just—I cussed earlier. I—I think I said the F word."
"You did," Lysander said, grinning like sin. "It was adorable."
"I'm not supposed to," she mumbled, eyes watering. "I'm not like that."
Rowan crouched infront of her. His fingers brushed her chin. "You are like that. Soft. Filthy. Sweet. Ours."
"I just wanted toast," she whispered miserably.
They all laughed. A little too dark. Too hungry.
"You'll get toast," Aeryn said. "After we get you sobered up. And maybe bent over a desk."
She choked.
"We'll take care of you," the Headmaster said. "But you don't get to run anymore, little star."
And the last thing she remembered before darkness tugged her under again—
—Was being lifted into someone's arms. Carried. Tucked against a chest that smelled like cedar and midnight. Fingers stroking her hair.
And a voice, soft and brutal against her ear:
"Next time, you're going to say please before we let
you come. And even then, we might still say no."
~