AURORA #2
I let him. Open my mouth for his tongue, let him taste me, let him take what he wants while I take what I need.
── ? ──
EVANDER
She tastes like rage and desperation and something sweet I can't identify. Coffee maybe. Or the cheap strawberry chapstick I've seen her apply between classes when she thinks no one's watching.
I can't think. Can barely breathe. My entire world has narrowed to this—her mouth under mine, her body pressed against the lockers, her hands fisted in my shirt like she's trying to pull me closer or push me away and hasn't decided which yet.
The violence is still singing in my veins. Hot and sharp and demanding more. More blood. More pain. More proof that he'll never touch her again, that no one will ever put their hands on what belongs to me.
But she's here. Right here. Kissing me like she hates me and wants me in equal measure.
And the violence transforms. Mutates. Becomes something else entirely.
Want.
Raw, desperate, all-consuming want that's been building since the first moment I saw her in that courtyard, since I started watching her through security feeds, since I built this entire elaborate trap just to keep her close.
I need to mark her. Need to make sure everyone knows she's mine before she walks out of this room.
I lean down and bite.
Hard.
Right where her neck meets her shoulder, where everyone will see it, where there's no way to hide it without a turtleneck or heavy makeup.
She cries out—pain and something else—her hands flying up to grip my wrist but not actually pulling me away.
I suck the skin between my teeth. Increase the pressure. Make sure the bruise will be dark and visible and absolutely unmistakable.
Make sure everyone who sees it knows exactly what it means.
When I finally release her, there's a perfect mark. Dark purple. Ringed with teeth impressions.
Mine.
I meet her eyes in the mirror. Her pupils are blown wide again, her lips parted, her breathing shallow.
"There," I say, satisfaction thick in my voice. "Now everyone will know."
She touches the mark with shaking fingers. Winces at the tenderness.
"You're insane," she whispers.
"So you keep saying." I straighten her collar, trying to hide the mark even though we both know it's impossible. "But you're still here. Still letting me kiss you—no, kissing me."
"I hate you."
"I know." I press one more kiss to the mark. Gentle this time. Almost tender. "But your body doesn't."
She turns to face me, and there's something in her eyes now. Something sharp and wounded and absolutely furious.
"This doesn't mean anything," she says. "This was just—adrenaline. Anger. A mistake."
"Keep telling yourself that." I step back, giving her space. "But we both know the truth."
"Which is?"
I smile. "That you're mine now. In every way that matters. And there's no going back from this."
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
And then she does the last thing I expect.
She laughs.
It's not a happy sound. Not amused or entertained or anything close to positive. It's bitter and broken and absolutely devoid of hope.
"You're right," she says quietly. "There's no going back. You've made sure of that."
She walks toward the door. Stops with her hand on the handle.
"But this changes nothing, Evander. I still hate you. Still planning to destroy you. This was just..." She gestures vaguely between us. "A moment of weakness. That's all."
"We'll see," I say.
She leaves without responding. The door swings shut behind her with a metallic clang.
I stand there in the empty locker room, my cock still hard, my mind replaying every sound she made, how her lips tasted.
And I smile.
Because she's lying to herself. Lying so obviously it's almost painful to watch.
This wasn't weakness. This was inevitability.
This was the moment she stopped being able to pretend she doesn't want me. Stopped being able to hide behind her hatred and her plans for revenge.
She felt it. That connection. That raw, desperate need that goes beyond logic or reason or common sense.
She felt it, and it terrified her.
Good.
Let her be terrified. Let her run back to her dorm and tell herself it didn't mean anything. Let her scrub her skin raw trying to wash away the evidence of what we just did.
It won't change the truth.
She's mine now. Marked. Claimed. Owned in ways that go beyond paperwork and debts.
And she knows it.
I walk to the sinks. Wash the blood from my hands. Fix my shirt as best I can, though there's no hiding the stains.
My reflection stares back at me. Hair messed up from her hands. Lips swollen from kissing. Eyes still dark with lust.
I look like I just fucked someone.
Which I didn't. Not technically.
But soon.
Very soon, Aurora Lane is going to stop lying to herself. Stop pretending this is just about coercion and control.
Stop fighting the truth.
And when she does—when she finally admits that she wants this, wants me, in ways that have nothing to do with debts or threats—I'm going to take everything she has to give.
And I'm never going to let her go.
I leave the locker room. The hallway is still empty, the bleeding guy long gone.
I pull out my phone and call Marcus.
"Clean up crew. Men's athletic complex. Locker room. Blood on the floor and walls. Make it disappear."
"Understood, Mr. Laurent."
I hang up and head back to my penthouse.
I have a lot of work to do. Plans to adjust. Strategies to refine.
Because Aurora Lane just gave me something precious today. Something I didn't even know I needed.
She gave me proof that beneath all that hatred and defiance, she wants me.
Her body doesn't lie. Her responses don't lie. the way she kissed me like she was drowning and I was air—none of that can be faked.
She wants me.
She just doesn't want to want me.
And that's okay.
I'm patient. I can wait.
I can wait for her to stop fighting. Stop pretending. Stop lying to herself about what this is.
And when she finally does?
When she finally accepts the truth?
She's going to be mine completely.
In every way that matters.
Forever.