The fire was way too big.
It lit the clearing like a second sun, casting long shadows of drunk bodies dancing and stumbling and grinding to music that had lost its beat three songs ago. Glass crunched under my boots as we stepped off the porch—someone had already broken a bottle, maybe more than one. The air was thick with smoke, weed, alcohol, and sweat. The kind of cocktail that gets into your clothes and stays there for days. Maybe forever.
Ardere walked a half-step ahead of me, shoulders squared, jaw tight. Her eyes scanned everything like she was bracing for a fight—or trying not to get swept into the current of it all.
Riven hadn't been lying. This wasn't a party. It was a riot that hadn't figured out it was a riot yet.
Half-naked strangers were making out against cars. Someone was dancing on top of a rusted-out truck cab, and another guy was puking behind a tree. I saw two people pass something between them—didn't know what it was, didn't want to know. And in the center of it all, like he was the goddamn main event, was Tallis.
Of course.
Leaning back in a torn lawn chair, blunt in one hand, a girl on his lap like a fucking trophy. Laughing like nothing could ever touch him. Until he saw her.
"Ards!" he shouted, loud and slurred, like they were still best friends and hadn't completely burned each other down. He shoved the girl off his lap like she was an afterthought and made his way over, weaving through the crowd like he owned it.
I stepped closer to Ardere, instinct more than thought. I didn't say anything, just wanted to be there—close enough that if he pulled something, I could shut it down before it started.
He didn't even glance at me.
Tallis came right up to her, all that charm turned up to eleven, arms out like he was welcoming her home.
"Didn't think you'd actually come," he said, a crooked grin on his face. "Look at you."
Then he leaned in to kiss her.
I moved—not much, just a shift—but Ardere was already ahead of me. She caught him with a hand to his chest, firm and immediate.
"I'm staying sober tonight," she said.
It wasn't loud. But it cut right through the noise like a razor.
Tallis blinked, stunned. Like he hadn't registered what she'd said the first time.
"Since when?"
"Since now," she said. "I want to actually remember something for once."
His laugh was short and sharp, and way too bitter to be real. "You're joking."
"No," she said. "I'm not."
The grin on his face faltered. Just a flicker, but I saw it. His eyes darted to me for a half-second—quick, calculating—then back to her. He pulled the blunt from his mouth and looked at it like it had betrayed him somehow.
"C'mon, Ards. One hit isn't going to kill you," he said. "You used to say that all the time."
"Yeah," she said, quieter now, "I used to say a lot of things."
Still, she didn't drop her hand from his chest.
And for the first time, Tallis didn't know what to do with her. He wasn't used to this version of her. The one who said no. The one who meant it.
There was a weird silence, and I don't mean the kind where everything stops and gets cinematic. The music was still thumping, someone was still shouting in the distance, and something definitely just broke again. But between the three of us? It was still. Cold.
Then, like it was nothing, Tallis flicked the blunt into the dirt and gave a short, bitter laugh.
"Sober," he said, nodding once. "Got it."
And just like that, he turned and walked away. Disappeared into the mess of chaos like he'd never even been here.
I exhaled slowly, tension bleeding out of my spine.
"You okay?" I asked her.
She didn't look at me right away. She was still watching where he'd gone, like maybe she expected him to come back. Or maybe she was mourning something I'd never seen.
"Ask me again in an hour," she murmured. "When I'm not pretending that didn't sting."
The night pressed in like a vice.
We hadn't even made it past the backyard, and already the smell of weed and gasoline and shitty whiskey was clinging to everything—our clothes, our hair, the air between us. People moved like smoke themselves, too loose and too fast, laughing at nothing, bumping into each other like they were all the same person.
Ardere stayed beside me, jaw clenched, hands in the pockets of her coat even though it wasn't cold. Her shoulders were tight. Too tight. Like she was holding her breath and trying not to flinch every time someone passed too close.
Someone near the fire exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, and it hit us like a wall. I instinctively turned my head, but Ardere just closed her eyes.
Didn't cough. Didn't wince.
Just… shut down for a second.
Like she'd been hit and didn't want anyone to see the bruise.
"Let's go around," I said, already steering her toward the edge of the crowd. "Back fence is quieter."
She nodded, and we moved like we were sneaking out instead of just walking. We passed a cluster of girls sitting on a collapsed cooler, one of them laughing so hard she was practically wheezing, a bottle dangling from her fingertips. Someone shouted a dare. Someone else cheered. A joint was passed to Ardere without anyone even looking up.
She froze. Not even half a second—but I saw it.
Her eyes locked on the offered joint like it was something alive. Like it might bite her. Or worse, like it might help.
I stepped between her and the guy holding it. "She's good," I said, before she had to say anything.
The guy blinked like he hadn't even realized we were there, then just shrugged and offered it to someone else.
We kept walking.
"he probably didn't mean anything by it," I said.
"I know."
"But it still sucked."
She didn't answer right away. Just kept walking.
Finally, she said, "It's like there's a fire alarm going off in my brain, and everyone's asking me why I won't just go back to sleep."
I looked at her. The way she kept her eyes low, her steps slow and careful like the ground might crack open under her.
"It's not fair," she added, quieter now. "That they get to forget. And I have to remember."
I didn't know what to say to that. There wasn't a right thing, and if there was, I didn't have it.
So I stopped walking.
She did too, when she realized I wasn't beside her anymore.
When she turned to face me, her eyes were glassy. But not drunk. Not high.
Just tired.
Not the kind sleep fixes.
"You want to leave?" I asked.
A pause. She looked around at the mess of people, the echo of Tallis's voice still hanging in the air even though he was long gone.
Then she shook her head.
"No," she said. "I need to prove I can stay. And not give in."
—
Ardere shifts beside me, the lights of the party flashing pink and gold over her face. Her eyes are too wide, too alert for someone pretending to be calm. I notice the way her fingers twitch at her sides, like she's resisting the urge to grab something—anything—to anchor herself.
"I'm just gonna run inside for a sec," she says, already turning toward the house. "Forgot something in the main hall."
I start to follow. "I'll come with—"
She turns back, fast. "No. You don't have to. I'll be quick. Promise."
She gives me a little smile—too polished, too rehearsed—and slips through the crowd before I can protest again. I watch her weave through the mess of dancing bodies and drunk stumbles, the crowd swallowing her up like waves taking back the tide.
I tell myself: five minutes.
People shove past me, sticky with sweat and soaked in smoke. Laughter echoes too loudly from the pool. Someone's started a fight near the firepit, but no one's stopping it. The air stinks of cheap alcohol, weed, and something chemical and too-sweet.
I shift my weight. Finish the drink in my hand and set the cup down on the edge of a planter. Check my phone again.
Twelve minutes.
Maybe she got caught up. Maybe she ran into someone. Maybe she's just catching her breath. She said she'd stay clean tonight. She looked me in the eye when she said it.
But I remember the tremble in her voice. The slight glaze over her eyes when the smoke blew past. The twitch in her jaw when Tallis offered her a hit and she turned him down.
Thirty-four minutes.
I'm standing against one of the outer pillars, beer warm in my hand, unreadable label sweating against my fingers. I haven't taken more than two sips. The party's only gotten louder, messier, meaner. People laugh with their mouths too wide open, voices raised to cover up whatever they don't want to feel. Someone's throwing up in the bushes, and no one even blinks.
Tallis is gone now—off somewhere, likely with someone. Riven? I haven't seen him in twenty minutes either. Last I checked he was dancing on top of one of the benches and trying to start a mosh pit with a bunch of people who didn't know what the hell he was doing.
But Ardere… still not back.
I told myself I'd give her ten minutes. Then fifteen. Then twenty. I even tried to tell myself maybe she ran into someone she knew. Maybe she just needed some air. But that lie's gone sour on my tongue.
She said she'd stay sober tonight. She promised. And maybe it was stupid, but I believed her. Maybe I still do. But that doesn't stop the crawling anxiety in my chest, or the way my brain keeps conjuring images of her stumbling into a room with Tallis, or someone worse. Of her curled up in some hallway with smoke in her lungs and nothing in her eyes.
I toss the beer into a bush and start moving.
Through the blur of bodies and heat, I push through the back doors and into the mansion. It's quieter in here—but not silent. The bass still hums through the walls like it's alive, and voices filter in from every other room. But I can breathe again. Think again.
I call her name once. Twice. No answer.
The main hall is empty except for a couple hooking up behind the statue of someone's dead grandfather, and a guy passed out by the stairs.
No sign of her.
I clench my fists, knuckles tight. This was supposed to be simple. Just one night. Just stay together. Just be okay.
But Ardere doesn't do simple. And I must be the dumbest guy alive for thinking she could.
I shove past a pair of drunk kids giggling over a spilled bottle of vodka and make for the edge of the yard, scanning the mess for any glimpse of Ardere's silhouette. Nothing. Just shadows and chaos. My heart's in my throat.
And then I spot Riven.
He's draped over a lounge chair like a king on a crumbling throne, a half-empty bottle dangling from one hand and a smug grin halfway stitched across his face. There's glitter in his hair—glitter—and he looks like he's barely hanging onto consciousness.
I stride over and yank the bottle from his hand.
He blinks. "Heyyy—"
"Did you see Ardere?" I snap.
Riven squints up at me. Then shrugs. "Yeah. 'Bout an hour ago. She went toward her cabin."
I freeze.
"You what?" My voice spikes, tight and sharp.
Riven frowns, like I'm ruining a good dream. "She didn't look dead. Said she forgot something. Looked all serious. Figured she wanted space or somethin'. Y'know how she gets."
"You knew she left the party. Alone. After promising not to use. And you didn't say anything?"
He raises both hands like I've just accused him of war crimes. "Dude. She's not a child. She said she was fine."
"She always says she's fine," I snap. "That doesn't mean she is."
Something ugly flashes behind my ribs. Anger or fear or both. I curse under my breath—at him, at myself—and take off before I say something I can't walk back.
I'm already sprinting across the back lawn, cutting through a line of trees, branches clawing at my arms. The cabins aren't far—but right now they feel miles away. The sick, sinking weight in my gut grows heavier with every step.
I don't knock. I don't hesitate. I slam the cabin door open like I'm trying to rip it off the hinges. The dim interior smells like dust and old wood and something faintly sour—like the sweat of a hundred forgotten nights.
"Ardere?" I bark, already crossing the room in long strides. "You said a minute. It's been over an hour."
No answer.
I spot the bathroom door shut, the crack of light beneath it betraying that it's not empty.
I don't even think—I just go for the handle and twist.
Locked.
"Ardere." My voice is sharper now. "Open the door."
Still nothing.
I raise my fist, ready to slam against the wood when her voice finally cuts through the silence—low and flat, but not shaky.
"Go away."
Two words.
No slur. No waver. No panic.
But something in her tone makes me stop cold.
She's not crying. That would almost be easier. There's no sobbing or hysteria behind the door. Just silence—and the heavy, suffocating weight of disappointment curling under her words like smoke.
"I said go away, Dorian."
I lower my fist.
She sounds like she's standing perfectly still on the other side, arms probably crossed, jaw tight, trying to hold herself together without the glue of anything chemical.
My anger drains like a slashed tire. I lean my forehead against the door and exhale slowly. "You didn't come back."
"I know."
"You promised you'd stay clean tonight."
"I didn't use," she says quietly. "I didn't even want to. I just—" She cuts herself off.
I wait.
She doesn't continue.
I crouch so I'm eye-level with the handle, my voice softening. "Then why lock yourself in here?"
"I didn't use."
"I believe you," I say without hesitation.
"I didn't even want to." Her words are clipped, like she's angry at herself for needing to say it at all. "I was doing fine. Until I wasn't."
I glance toward the ceiling and let out a slow breath, not sure where she's leading. "What happened?"
"I was stupid," she says. "I took something."
I freeze. "Ardere—"
"Not drugs." She cuts me off before I can spiral. "Or—not like that. Not what you think."
There's a long pause on her end, and when she speaks again, her voice is laced with a mix of embarrassment and fury. "Tallis gave me… something. He called it candy. I didn't ask what it was. I was trying to be polite. Thought maybe it was just one of those stupid festival sugar cube things. You know—mints, whatever."
I blink. "And it wasn't?"
"No," she says flatly. "It was some kind of aphrodisiac."
I stare blankly at the bathroom door. "What."
"I know," she snaps, like she's mad I'm even reacting. "I should've known. I should've asked. Or said no. Or—something. But I didn't. And it hit all at once. Like lightning in my spine."
"Jesus, Ardere—"
I take a step closer to the door.
"Did he tell you what it was?"
"No. He smiled and handed it over like it was some little inside joke. And I didn't ask because I was trying to be polite. And now—"
She breaks off, sharp inhale through her teeth.
"And now it's still in my system," she says lowly. "I can feel it in my spine and my chest and my face and I hate it. I hate it, I hate him, and I don't want you to see me like this."
My fist curls slowly at my side.
"Did he touch you?"
"No," she says, fast. "No. I got out of there. Locked myself in here before I—before I did something I didn't actually want to do."
I press my hand against the door like I could reach through it and touch her.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
"I was stupid."
"You were drugged, Ardere."
"No," she hisses, furious now—at herself, at Tallis, maybe at me for saying it out loud. "I let him hand it to me. I didn't ask questions. I should've known better. He's done this before—just not to me. I thought I was immune to that kind of thing with him. I thought—I don't know. I was trying to be civil. Mature."
"And he took advantage of that."
"I don't want to hear it."
"Ardere—"
"I want you to go, Dorian."
I stare at the door. "Not happening."
"You don't get it," she says, voice tight. "It's still in me. I can't think straight. I can barely breathe without wanting things. I'm not crying, I'm not losing it—I just need you to not be here right now."
I lean my forehead against the wood, trying to keep my breathing even.
"I'm not scared of you."
"You should be."
"I'm not," I repeat. "I'm worried. There's a difference."
"Yeah, well. I'm scared of me right now, so you need to go."
I let the silence stretch. My hand slides down the door, fingers brushing the edge of the floor.
"You didn't ask for this," I say quietly. "You didn't consent to this. And you don't have to go through it alone just because it's humiliating."
"It's not humiliating."
"Then why are you hiding from me?"
"Because if I see your face, I'm going to want to pull you in here and that won't be me wanting it. And I can't—I won't let this be that."
The quiet that follows is heavy enough to choke on.
I sit down against the door, spine pressed to the wood. "Then I'll stay right here."
"Dorian—"
"I won't come in. I won't say anything else. But I'm not leaving you alone with this."
Her voice is smaller now. "Even like this?"
"Especially like this."
Another long pause.
Then, softly: "You always say the wrong thing in the right way, you know that?"
"Okay," I said, keeping my voice low, gentle. "Maybe cold water would help. I'll grab some ice from the freezer, and we can—cool your body down, right? That might take the edge off."
Silence. Then a soft noise behind the door—not a good one. A shaky breath, maybe. Her palm against the tile.
"Or maybe—charcoal. You haven't eaten much, maybe it's still in your system. That could absorb some of it—"
"Dorian."
The way she said my name stopped everything in me. No anger, no heat—just strain. Like it hurt her just to speak.
"Stop. Please."
I froze, blinking, breath catching in my throat. Her voice wasn't sharp. It wasn't even angry. It was fragile. Unraveling at the edges.
"You're making it worse," she whispered. "Your voice—your voice is making it worse."
God.
I stepped back like I'd touched a live wire, hand falling away from the door like it burned me.
"I'm sorry," I said immediately, backing up another step. "Okay. Okay. I'll shut up."
I hear the door open behind me. Not hers—the front one. My head snaps around, already bracing, already on edge.
Tallis steps in like he owns the place, like this is the start of some sleazy reunion. He's got a crooked grin and a devil-may-care slouch, hands shoved in his jacket pockets.
"She's still in the bathroom?" he asks, casual, like he's asking where the snacks are.
"Get out," I say immediately, stepping between him and the hallway.
"Relax, man." He laughs like I'm joking. "She took it, didn't she? I told her it'd help her unwind."
"You drugged her."
He shrugs. "It's not a drug drug. Just a little something for stress. She knows what it is. She's not stupid."
That's the last word he should've said.
I take a step forward. "You think that makes it okay?"
"She's my ex," he says. "I know her. This is how she works. She just needs a push."
"No," I growl. "She needs to be left alone."
We're toe to toe now. He's taller, but I don't give a shit. My fists are clenched and my jaw's locked. Every second he's here, I can hear her behind that door—shifting, breathing too fast, maybe crying, maybe worse.
She's listening. She hears us.
And it's making everything worse.
"Dorian—" Her voice cracks behind the door, a gasp more than a word. "Just—stop. Please, both of you—stop talking—"
I freeze. So does he.
"Do you hear that?" I hiss. "That's what you did."
"You think you're better than me?" Tallis snaps. "She's wanted me since the start. You're just the one she feels safe with."
I want to hit him. I almost do.
But then I hear a sound from inside the bathroom that kills every thought in my head—a soft, choked sound like she's trying not to whimper and failing.
I close my eyes. "You need to leave. Now."
"I'm not leaving her with you," he says.
"Then I'll make you."
The only reason I haven't already is because I'm afraid of what she'll hear—what it'll do to her. The shouting, the fists, the clash of guys she once (or still) liked fighting over her like she's not in the next room biting her fist just to stay silent.
"Both of you," Ardere breathes. Her voice is raw. Humiliated. "I hate you both right now. Just go."
"She's not seeing anyone right now. Get the hell out."
He looked me over, drunk and smug, and already walking past me like I didn't matter. "Yeah, sure. Bet she told you that too. But she's always been a bit of a tease when she's high."
The venom in his tone made something in me snap.
I grabbed his arm. "She said no."
He laughed, yanking out of my grip. "I'm not talking to you, choirboy."
Then he shoved me. And I wasn't expecting it—wasn't expecting how fast he'd barrel through me like I was nothing.
Before I could recover, he was at the bathroom door.
"Baby, c'mon," Tallis crooned as he knocked once, then twisted the handle. It was unlocked. My stomach dropped. "You let me in?"
"Stop!" I barked, lunging after him—but he was already inside.
Ardere was on the floor, knees drawn up to her chest, skin flushed and glowing in a way that made my throat tighten. Her shirt clung to her like she was burning up from the inside out. The way she flinched when Tallis crouched down in front of her—
That was all it took.
I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back so hard we both stumbled. He hit the wall hard enough to knock a picture frame loose.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shouted, my voice echoing in the cabin.
"You don't get it, man," Tallis slurred, trying to shove me off. "She wants it. She always does. She—"
I slammed him into the wall again. "You drugged her, you sick piece of—" I couldn't even say it. My fist clenched, jaw tight. He tried to swing, but he was too slow. Too wasted. I shoved him again, this time out the bathroom entirely and toward the door.
Tallis laughing between blows: "You think she doesn't want me? You should've seen the way she looked at me last time—"
Ardere let out a strangled noise and slammed her hand over her mouth.
She didn't want this.
Didn't want either of us to see her like this. Not when her body was this wrecked, not when she was seconds away from—
Outside the bathroom, the fight had spilled into the hallway. Tallis and i had slammed into the wall so hard a picture frame fell off, shattering against the floor. Tallis headbutted me. I threw him into the kitchen table.
"I said get out!"
"You don't get to choose for her!" Tallis roared, panting, nose bleeding. "You think she doesn't want this? Look at her. Go look. She's starving for it."
That did it.
I tackled him. We hit the ground hard, fists flying. One of us knocked over a chair. The table cracked.
Tallis spat blood. "You think you're better? You think she's not fantasized about both of us?"
I froze. And Ardere whimpered.
Because Tallis was right.
That single hesitation gave Tallis the opening to shove me off and scramble to his feet. He staggered back toward the hallway, blood trailing from his lip, eyes wild and hungry.
And then he saw her.
The bathroom door had been pushed halfway open in the chaos. She hadn't even noticed when. She was too far gone. Her eyes met his—and immediately flicked away, humiliated.
Tallis smirked.
But before he could take a step toward her, I grabbed him by the collar and threw him into the doorframe.
"Get out!"
He sneered at me, but there was hesitation now. His gaze flicked back to Ardere, and something in it made my blood boil all over again. "She wants this," he said low. "She told me once she missed the way I touched her. Maybe not in words. But—"
I didn't let him finish.
My knuckles cracked against his mouth. He staggered again, spitting blood onto the floor, before finally backing off with a curse.
"You think this is gonna make her choose you?" he yelled as he stumbled for the door. "You're not her goddamn knight, man. You're a leash."
I didn't even look at him as he left. The second the door slammed shut behind him, I turned to her.
She was trembling. Her face red, hands shaking where they still gripped the doorframe, her eyes glassy and hungry in a way that made me hate all of this.
"Dorian—" she breathed.
God, even her voice.
Every syllable felt like it was killing her to say. Like the drug had made just speaking around me feel obscene.
I didn't mean to get closer.
One second I was frozen, barely breathing, and the next I was at her side—kneeling down in front of her like my body had moved on its own.
"Ardere," I murmured. "Hey… hey, look at me."
She flinched at first, like my voice cut through her. Her pupils were still blown wide, and her breath stuttered as she blinked down at me like she didn't recognize me—or maybe like she did, too much.
I kept my hands to myself. I didn't trust them. Not around her. Not like this.
But then she moved.
Faster than I thought she could, her hands curled into my shirt—tight, trembling, desperate—and before I could even register what was happening, she pulled me into her.
Her mouth crashed into mine, open and wanting and so fierce that it short-circuited every part of me.
My brain went static.
There was no lead-in, no hesitation—just heat and ache and tension breaking loose in one sharp, wildfire second.
She kissed like she was drowning and I was air. Like she didn't care who I was, only that I was here, and not Tallis, and not the emptiness clawing through her veins.
Her grip on my shirt tightened, dragging me impossibly closer, like she needed to feel every inch of me against her to stop herself from unraveling.
For one stunned heartbeat, I didn't move. Couldn't. My hands hovered near her waist, twitching like they wanted to hold her—God, did they want to hold her—but I didn't.
Because this wasn't her. Not all the way. Not right now.
And even if every part of me was on fire and screaming for more, I knew what she needed wasn't what she thought it was.
Still, I couldn't stop the sound that left me—low and wrecked—as her mouth pressed harder, like she was trying to erase the space between us.
Like she wanted to forget everything—Tallis, the drug, the fear—if just for one second in my arms.
And maybe I did too.
But I pulled back. Barely. Just enough to breathe.
"Ardere," I whispered, voice hoarse. "You're not okay."
She looked at me then, really looked at me, and her bottom lip trembled like I'd just cracked something open inside her.
"I don't care," she whispered.
She didn't let me go.
If anything, she clung harder—like if she held me close enough, tight enough, she could outrun what was happening to her. Her breathing hitched, frantic, and her hands fisted in my shirt like she was trying to anchor herself. Or maybe pull me under with her.
"Please," she whispered. Her voice was raw. Shaky. "Please, Dorian…"
I swallowed. Hard.
"You don't mean that."
"I do," she gasped, eyes glassy, wide. "I need—God, I need something, you—please—"
Her hands were on me again. Everywhere. Touches meant to feel intentional but laced with a trembling kind of panic. She was kissing me again, desperate and heated and unrelenting, and this time, when she dragged my hand to her bare thigh, I felt her shaking.
Not from the cold. From the storm crashing through her veins.
My heart cracked.
"Ardere," I rasped, pulling back even as she tried to chase my mouth with hers, "this isn't you."
"Yes it is," she said, nearly sobbed. "You don't get it—I want this, I want you, I've wanted you. Please don't make me beg—"
But she was begging. And that made it worse.
It twisted something in me. That the girl I couldn't stop thinking about—dreaming about—was here, falling apart in front of me, and I couldn't even touch her without doing more damage.
She didn't know what she was saying. Not really. Not right now.
She was drowning in that damn aphrodisiac. Every instinct she had was scrambled. Her want—it wasn't false, but it wasn't fair either. Not like this. Not when she was drugged and shaking and fighting to stay herself.
I cupped her face gently, thumbs brushing her cheeks, trying to make her see me—really see me.
"I'm not going to take advantage of you," I said, soft but firm. "Even if you're asking for it."
She choked on a sound—half sob, half frustration—and shoved at me. Not hard. Just enough to break contact.
"Why not?" she snapped. "You want me, don't you? Isn't this what you've wanted all this time?"
I looked away.
Of course I did. But not like this.
Not when her voice was trembling and her body was betraying her and her eyes were begging for something she didn't even understand she was giving away.
"I want you, Ardere," I said quietly. "Not a version of you twisted up by a drug someone forced into your system. Not when you'll wake up tomorrow and hate yourself for what happened."
She was crying now. Quiet and furious. Her hands dug into her arms like she wanted to claw the heat out of her own skin.
She pulled back just enough to look at me—and God, the look on her face nearly broke me in half. Red-rimmed eyes. Flushed cheeks. Lips trembling but parted like she still didn't know whether she was going to cry again or kiss me senseless.
"Dorian…" she whispered. Like my name itself was a lifeline. A plea. A curse.
"I'm here," I said, keeping my voice soft. Steady. I was trying so hard to stay grounded for her when I felt anything but grounded.
She stared at me, eyes flicking over my face like she was memorizing every line. Or searching for cracks.
"You don't get it," she murmured. "I've needed someone like you. You're the only person who's ever actually seen me. Who treats me like I'm something more than what they want from me. Or what they're afraid of."
My throat tightened.
"Ardere…"
"I think about you all the time," she went on, her voice breaking at the edges. "The way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. The way you're gentle when no one else knows how to be. The way you talk like you'd burn down the world if someone hurt me."
She leaned in closer, hand splayed against my chest. I could feel her heart racing through her palm, through her skin, through me.
"I know you want me too," she said, softer now. A razor blade wrapped in velvet. "I know you think about it. About us. I know you think about how amazing that night was."
I closed my eyes. My hands clenched against my thighs.
Of course I had.
Of course I did.
She was everything I'd ever wanted and more. Fierce, untamed, vulnerable in ways she didn't even realize. And now she was looking at me like I was the only thing keeping her from falling off a ledge.
"And if you walk away now," she said, barely above a whisper, "I don't know if I'll ever forgive you."
That one gutted me.
It wasn't fair. She knew it wasn't fair. But she was unraveling, and desperate people said desperate things. She was digging into every wound she could find—on purpose or not—trying to pull me under with her.
She pressed her forehead to mine. Her breath shivered across my lips.
"You keep saying you care about me," she whispered. "So prove it. Don't leave me alone in this. Don't make me go through this by myself."
I wanted to scream.
Because she wasn't wrong.
She wasn't lying.
Her voice was steady now. Too steady.
"If you won't do it," she said, her eyes locking on mine, "Tallis will."
My heart stopped.
And then I wasn't kneeling on some moldy blanket in an abandoned room holding a girl I loved—I was somewhere else.
I was in fire. And blood. And fury.
Tallis. That smug bastard's hands on her. His eyes drinking in every crack in her armor. His voice dripping with manipulation, telling her she was powerful, special, his. Telling her he understood her.
And if I said no… if I walked away now…
She would go to him.
Because he wouldn't say no.
And he'd take everything I'd been trying to protect.
Everything I loved.
And turn it into something I didn't recognize.
Something she wouldn't survive.
I could feel my breath seizing in my chest.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
She'd saved the worst for last.
"You don't mean that," I rasped.
Ardere just tilted her head. That wicked, haunted smile still playing on her lips.
"No?" she said. "You think I haven't thought about it? Thought about how easy it would be to stop fighting and just be what they want? He says he'll never tell me no. That I can burn it all down and he'll help me light the match."
My hands curled into fists. I didn't even realize I was shaking.
"He doesn't love you," I said. "He wants to own you. He wants your power. He wants to hollow you out and wear you like a weapon."
"And what do you want, Dorian?" Her voice cracked—not loud, not dramatic, but it was enough. "You say you love me, but you keep pulling away. You keep deciding what I can and can't handle. What I deserve. So tell me—how is that any different?"
That was it.
The question that made everything tilt sideways.
Because I didn't know anymore.
Was I protecting her? Or trying to control her? Was I loving her, or trying to preserve the version of her I wanted her to be?
What gave me the right to tell her no when every part of me ached to say yes?
She reached for me again—slow, deliberate, like she knew she'd just cracked me down the center.
And I let her.
Because I didn't know if I was strong enough to stop her.
Because I didn't know if I even should.
But I did know one thing.
Tallis wasn't getting her.
Not if I had to tear my own soul in half to keep it from happening.
I couldn't breathe.
Her hands were on my chest, trembling but certain. Her breath hitched against my jaw. Every part of me was screaming to pull away—and just as loudly, not to.
This was wrong.
She was unraveling.
And I was supposed to be the one who didn't take advantage of that.
But Tallis would.
He wanted her like this. Unraveled. Desperate. Easily rewritten.
I couldn't let that happen.
Even if it made me a hypocrite.
Even if it made me weak.
Even if it made me just as bad.
Her lips brushed mine again, softer this time. Not pleading—just waiting.
I buried my face in her shoulder, gripping the back of her shirt like a man about to drown.
"Okay," I whispered. "Okay. But listen to me—listen. If we do this…"
She stilled.
I pulled back, just enough to meet her eyes. Mine burned like hell.
"There are rules," I said. "Non-negotiable."
Her lips parted, like she was going to argue, but I didn't give her the chance.
"One," I said. "You don't get to use this to disappear. You don't get to run or pretend this is just some distraction. If I touch you like this, it means you're still here, with me—not hiding from it."
She swallowed.
"Two. You don't say his name again. I swear to god, Ardere. I can't take it. Not now."
A slow nod.
"Three." My voice cracked. "If I say stop, you stop. No mind games. No guilt. You stop."
"Okay," she said, voice thin and breaking. "Okay."
"And four," I said, my thumb brushing her cheek without meaning to. "You don't get to pretend this means nothing tomorrow. If you can't promise me that, then I'll walk out right now."
Her face crumpled like it physically hurt to hear it—but she didn't pull away.
Instead, she leaned in again, forehead pressed to mine.
"I won't forget," she whispered. "I promise."
—
I should've stopped this before it started.
But now, with her in my arms, trembling against me, her breath catching every time I so much as moved—
I couldn't.
This wasn't about lust. Not really. It was about escape, about need, about something deeper and infinitely more dangerous.
And I was already in too deep to claw my way back out.
Ardere kissed me like she'd forgotten how not to. Her hands were everywhere—clumsy and too hot and shaking. I kissed her back like it would kill me not to.
I wasn't sure which of us was holding the other together. Or if we were both just falling apart, beautifully and recklessly, in the same direction.
"Here," I murmured, pulling her with me to the floor as gently as I could, guiding her down onto the soft pile of towels beside the tub. My hands ghosted over her sides. "Easy."
Her eyes were glassy but locked on mine, like she was terrified I'd vanish if she blinked.
I touched her jaw. "We're not rushing this."
"But I want—" she started, but her voice cracked, and she looked away.
"I know what you want," I said softly. "I just need to know you still want me when this is over."
Her eyes flicked back to mine. "I do. I do."
I kissed her again. Slower. Deeper.
Ardere skin is hot to the touch like she was feverish. She was already reaching for my shirt, pulling it so hard it ripped. Her legs wrapped around my waist and she moaned immediately into my mouth. Her hips rolled, demanding friction and I swore she almost came.
"Dorian–fuck–please, I cant'---"
It took both hands to unwrap her legs from my waist so I could pull off her jeans. As my fingers undid the button and the zipper, her thighs clenched like she was on the verge of orgasm. Her whimpers were nearly sobs. When i .used my teeth to pull down her underwear, she came.
Not even gently. Her hands grabbed the towel she was laying on so hard her knuckles turned white. I swear her pupils expanded even wider as she choked on her moan.
"Fuck—i'm sorry," she whispered. "I tried so hard not to. I just couldn't stop."
I could tell she needed more. Her pupils were still blown, skin still clammy. She was still holding onto me like I was the only one who could stop this.
I don't know why I said it. Maybe it was the heat of the moment, maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was because her thighs were covered in her orgasm and i didnt even touch her.
"You make a pretty slut."
She let out another moan, her eyes already half way back into her head by the time I grabbed her by the thighs and shoved my tongue straight into her cunt.
She had tears—actual tears in her eyes as I switched between lapping my tongue with her clit and sucking on it. My finger nails were leaving marks on her thigh. But her she had in her hand in my hair, guiding me the way she wanted my mouth on her as she wrapped her thighs so tightly around me that I couldn't breathe.
It was absolute heaven. Her scream was the only warning I had before her second orgasm squirted onto my tongue. Her legs were shaking so bad I put them over my shoulders as I continued to eat her out until the overstimulation nearly broke her. When I pulled back her chest rose up and down dramatically. She stared at me wide eyed like she couldn't believe I just did that.
I was out of control now, high on lust like I was the one on the drug. My hand reached up, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back. My mouth latched on and sucked on a spot just below her ear until I was sure the bruise wouldn't fade for months.
I pulled her head back a little farther, enough for me to whisper into her ear, "You can give me one more…right?"
It wasn't really a question.
She nodded eagerly, opening her mouth to say something before I gave her hair one final tug—this one hard enough to hurt before spitting in her mouth.
I swear her pupils nearly exploded.
She moaned as I hauled her up to her feet, bending her over the counter. I kept my hand on the back of her head as I undid my belt. Dropping my pants and boxers to the floor.
I pressed kisses along her spine, starting from her mid back and working my way down as I stroked my dick in my hands.
"Watch."
An order.
I grabbed her hips, slamming myself into her while she gripped into the bathroom counter for dear life—her eyes never leaving the mirror.
She came once.
Then twice.
And finally when i came apart inside of her.
–
She was quiet.
Too quiet.
Her breathing had started to settle, but her body was still curled into mine like she didn't trust the world not to swallow her whole. My hand rested on her back, unmoving. I didn't know if I should stroke it or stay still or pull away completely. Every cell in my body wanted to fix this.
But I didn't even know if anything was broken.
"Ardere," I said gently, my voice rough with whatever was left of me. "I didn't mean to—"
She didn't lift her head.
"I didn't mean for it to get that… rough. I thought you were okay and then it just—" I let the sentence hang, because I didn't know how to finish it without hating myself.
Her fingers clutched at my shirt, just slightly. The back of her head resting into my shoulder. And when she spoke, it wasn't sharp or defensive or distant. It was a whisper so quiet I almost thought I'd imagined it.
"Thank you."
I froze.
She pulled in a breath that hitched at the end, and her voice came again, a little steadier but still small. I let my hand move then, just barely, smoothing her hair back from her damp forehead. "You scared the hell out of me," I admitted. "I didn't know if I was doing the right thing. I still don't."
"You were." She paused, then added more softly, "You are."
We stood there a moment in silence.
The aftermath of everything between us lingered in the air—warm and heady and confusing as hell. Her skin was marked where my hands had held her too tightly. My neck was scratched from where she'd clung. My ribs ached from when she'd pushed me back and pulled me in again, so hard I nearly forgot where I ended and she began.
It had been intense. Too intense.
And yet, she wasn't pulling away.
She was trembling a little, though. I held us tighter.
"We went too far," I said quietly.
She didn't answer.
Not right away.
Then: "Maybe. But I still wanted you."
I swallowed hard. My chest ached. "You didn't have to prove that."
She shook her head faintly. "I wasn't trying to prove anything. I just… wanted to feel safe. And you make me feel that way—even when I don't make it easy."
I let that sink in. Let the weight of her words press against everything I thought I knew.
"I don't ever want to hurt you," I said, voice nearly cracking.
"I know."
We didn't speak after that. She closed her eyes against my shoulder, and I held her like she might disappear again if I let go.