Chapter 16—Confession
Luna popped a grape in her mouth like she hadn't just cornered me with the most loaded question of my entire goddamn life.
"So," she said casually, lips slick with juice. "Let's say you had to pick. Right now. No dodging, no 'I don't knows.' Lucan, Cassian, or Mr. Ice-Face, Alervon?"
I blinked at her. My fingers were clenched around the edges of the table, white-knuckled.
Luna grinned. "Come on, Princess. You can't play three sides forever."
I looked down, then back up, heart pounding like a war drum in my chest.
"Cassian…" I began. "Cassian gave me fire. The kind that makes your skin itch and your body scream. He makes me feel alive and reckless and on the edge of something dangerous."
Luna raised a brow. "Mhm."
"Lucan gave me calm. Safety. The kind of love that doesn't demand, doesn't push. He was… warm. Familiar. He made me feel like I could rest."
"And?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
"But Alervon—he gave me both. Fire and calm. Rage and serenity. Lust and restraint. He made me want to burn… and he made me want to beg."
Luna's lips parted in shock.
"He was the first person I fell for—really fell for. Ever since that night he saved me, even when I didn't know who the hell he was… I couldn't stop thinking about him."
"Damn," Luna whispered. "Girl, you're gone."
I nodded. "And when Cassian kissed me, a part of me only kissed him back because I wanted to shut out the pain Alervon caused. I wanted to erase what he said. I kissed Cassian just to forget…"
"…the boy you couldn't have," she finished for me.
I nodded again. "I don't want fire alone. Or peace alone. I want the chaos. The stillness. The storm and the eye of it. And only Alervon makes me feel all of that."
Part II – Goodbye, Lucan
I found Lucan under the massive oak tree behind school. His hands were in his pockets, face calm like always—but his eyes… they told me everything.
"You've changed," he said softly.
I opened my mouth, but he held up a hand.
"You don't need to explain it. I felt it a while ago. I just didn't want to admit it."
"Lucan…"
He stepped closer and touched my cheek, the way he always did—soft, steady, kind.
"I loved you," he said. "But love isn't meant to be one-sided."
Tears burned in my eyes.
"I'm letting you go. Because deep down, I know your heart was never fully mine."
And then he walked away.
And just like that—I was free.
And falling.
Part III – Alervon
I didn't expect to see him.
Not here.
Not now.
But fate was cruel like that.
I was walking through the west wing corridor when I turned the corner—and slammed right into a wall of muscle.
A wall named Alervon.
He caught me by the arms, the force jarring me, but what stunned me more… was his eyes.
They weren't cold.
Not yet.
They were dark. Hungry.
Like he'd been holding something back.
My breath caught. "Alervon—"
"Tell me something," he said, voice low and guttural. "Did you enjoy it?"
I blinked. "What?"
"When he kissed you." He stepped closer. "Did it make you feel powerful? Important? Loved?"
His breath hit my neck, hot and ragged. My back hit the wall. My pulse screamed.
"I—"
"Was that what you wanted?" he asked, hand sliding up my side. "Both of us. Craving you. Fighting over you. Did it make you feel alive?"
His hand stopped just under my jaw, fingers gripping.
"You don't even know what you want, do you?"
I swallowed. "I wanted you."
His laugh was dark and bitter. "You want everyone, Princess."
He moved in, lips brushing mine—almost—before pulling back.
"That's what you are. A spoiled little girl collecting affections like trophies. Cassian's fire. Lucan's calm. My fucking contempt."
"I'm not—"
"You are," he snapped. "An attention-starved brat who flirts with danger just to feel something. You play games with hearts like you're entitled to them."
Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn't speak. Couldn't.
I should've walked away.
I should've run.
But when Alervon stepped in front of me, blocking the hallway with nothing but that stillness he wore like armor, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.
His eyes—dark, heavy, scorching—dragged over me like I was something he wanted to consume and destroy in the same breath.
"You think he can give you what you want?" His voice was cold, but laced with something molten beneath. "Cassian?"
He took a step closer. I took one back.
Wrong move.
"Do you really believe some angry boy with a temper can handle you?"
My spine hit the wall, but he didn't stop. He didn't touch me. He didn't have to.
"I saw the way you kissed him. Desperate. Like maybe if you tasted him enough, you'd forget me."
His mouth was near my ear now, breath hot against my neck. My heart pounded.
"But that's the problem, isn't it, Princess?" he whispered. "You can't forget me. No matter how many lips you taste."
I clenched my fists, grounding myself. I hated the way my body responded to him. I hated the ache. The heat. The truth in everything he said.
He chuckled—low and lethal. "Let me tell you something," he said. "That little fire Cassian gave you?"
He leaned in closer. I could feel his chest brush mine.
"I would burn you alive."
His words curled around my spine like lightning.
"I'd have you shaking. Screaming. On your knees, begging for something you don't even have a name for yet."
My breath hitched. My knees nearly gave in.
"You think you know what desire is?" he whispered, lips grazing my cheek. "You don't. You've only tasted sparks. But me?"
His hand didn't touch—but hovered at my waist, like a phantom. Like a warning.
"I'd drown you in an inferno so deep, you'd forget your fucking name."
I gasped, but his words didn't stop.
"You'd come apart in my hands—begging for release, then more, then more—and I'd never let you go until you crack."
I closed my eyes, trembling.
"You think Cassian gives you fire?" he growled, voice like thunder against my skin. "I'd give you chaos. I'd make you forget what it meant to breathe without me."
I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to push him away.
Instead, I stood there, flushed and shaking, my breath stolen, my thoughts shattered.
And then—just like that—he stepped back.
Like none of it happened.
Like he hadn't just unmade me with words.
He leaned in close again, this time his hand sliding down between my thighs, not touching—just hovering.
"I could break you in two," he whispered. "Right here. Right now. You'd beg for it."
My breath hitched. My knees went weak.
"But I won't."
"Why?" I croaked.
"Because you're not ready. Because what I'd give you… it'd ruin you. And you don't deserve it."
He turned and walked away without another word.
And I stood there.
Heart shattered. Skin burning.
More alive than I'd ever been.
And more ashamed than I'd ever thought possible.
[TO BE CONTINUED]