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The morning sun spilled through the tall windows, casting a soft gold across the velvet sheets. The first thing I felt wasn't the warmth of the light, but the soft pressure against my chest—a body curled into mine, fingers lazily stroking my side.
Lyria.
Her silver hair was a tangled curtain against my skin, her breath warm on my neck. One of her legs hooked over mine possessively, and her hands—those soft, claw-tipped hands—were resting on my chest. Except one.
One hand had slipped lower, fingers spread over my abdomen, the edge of her nail tracing idle circles just above my waist. Her hips were pressed flush against me, bare skin to bare skin, and she sighed with contentment.
"You're awake," she murmured, voice still thick with sleep. "Good. I didn't want you to miss this."
"Miss what?" I asked, blinking slowly.
Her eyes glowed faintly as she looked up at me, a devilish smile curling her lips. She lifted herself slightly, pushing her chest tighter into mine as her mouth came close to my ear.
"This moment," she whispered. "The moment you stop being free."
Before I could respond, her palm pressed against my heart. A searing warmth bloomed there, not painful, but deep. Intimate.
"Lyria—what are you—?"
"Shh," she whispered. "I'm giving you a gift."
Symbols flared across my skin, glowing crimson before fading into nothing. But I felt it—a mark, burned into my soul. My body shuddered at the sensation, but her grip only tightened.
"No woman will be able to touch you now," she said, eyes wild with possessive fire. "Not without burning. Not unless I allow it."
I stared at her, stunned. "Why?"
"Because you're mine, Jin. They all want you. They'll try to take you. But this... this keeps you safe."
Her lips pressed to my neck, kissing the place where her magic had sunk deepest. "You belong to me."
---
By midday, we were dressed and walking through the heart of the city, Lyria leading me toward a looming structure in the distance.
"The Academy?" I asked, glancing at the towering building with its glass spires and arched gates.
"You need control," she said simply. "You're waking up too fast. The energy inside you... it's starting to bleed through."
She was right. Every step I took, every breath I exhaled, I felt something ripple beneath my skin. Like static. Like hunger. And the women we passed?
They felt it too.
Eyes followed us. Whispers clung to the air. One girl in a skirt too short to be decent stepped forward, her lips parted, reaching toward me with trembling fingers.
Then she screamed.
Her hand recoiled before even touching me, skin burning red as if she'd grabbed a hot iron. Her friends pulled her back, but their eyes never left me.
Lyria said nothing. Just smirked.
The mark was working.
We passed through the academy gates. The campus was worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it. Near-naked girls lazed beneath trees, lounged across benches, or "accidentally" dropped books in front of me, their backs arched as they bent down.
But none of them got closer than a few feet. The mark flared whenever they tried, forcing them back with a hiss of pain.
We entered the main building, its marble floors glimmering beneath my boots. A receptionist waved us toward a wide oak door at the end of the hall.
"The Headmistress is expecting you," she said, eyes glued to me.
We stepped inside.
The room was warm, tastefully lit with amber lamps. A fireplace crackled in one corner, and behind the massive desk sat a woman unlike any I'd seen yet.
She was elegance incarnate. Thirties, perhaps, but with the kind of timeless beauty that didn't care for age. Her crimson lips curled into a practiced smile as she rose, her dress hugging every curve. Her chest—far too generous for any modesty—strained against silk that shimmered when she moved.
"Welcome, Jin," she said, her voice smooth as aged wine. "Lyria, a pleasure. You may leave us now."
Lyria narrowed her eyes. "I don't think so."
"I insist," the Headmistress said, her tone sharpening slightly.
Something passed between them. Power. Rank.
Lyria hesitated.
"Fine," she snapped. "But I'll be right outside."
The moment the door closed, the Headmistress moved. She didn't sit back down. Instead, she came around the desk, hips swaying like a dance. She walked right up to me and leaned forward, placing her hands on the arms of my chair.
"You're not what I expected," she murmured.
I swallowed hard. Her chest was... close. Too close. The scent of her perfume invaded my thoughts.
"I thought I was marked. Untouchable," I said, trying to focus.
She chuckled. "You are. But I'm the Headmistress. My magic is... different."
With a flick of her fingers, the door glowed blue. Locked.
"You can't just keep me here," I said.
She smiled again. "I'm not keeping you. I'm testing you."
I tensed as her hand traced along my shoulder. "Testing?"
"To enroll," she whispered, bending lower. "You must pass."
Her fingers dipped beneath my collar. I caught her wrist.
"You said the mark burns."
"Only those who don't have enough power to resist it."
She leaned closer, her chest brushing against my cheek.
"I do."
Her lips touched mine, and suddenly, the mark didn't flare.
She gasped softly. "Oh... I see. She didn't complete it. Or maybe... you didn't accept it fully."
Her hand slid down, fingertips grazing my thigh.
"Prove yourself," she said. "Prove you can handle what's coming."
My blood roared in my ears. I stood abruptly, and she didn't flinch. Instead, she smiled in approval as I caught her by the hips and spun her toward the desk.
"You want a test?" I asked.
Her hands gripped the wood. "Show me what the last man can do."
I reached beneath the folds of her skirt, fingers brushing against bare curves, skin smooth and hot.
She gasped again, but this time, it was filled with anticipation.
I lifted her effortlessly onto the desk, her legs wrapping around me instinctively as her hands tangled in my shirt.
Whatever was happening to me—this hunger, this power—it wasn't just reacting anymore.
It was wanting.
And I was done holding it back.
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