BloodBound

Chapter Three – Evelyn

The classrooms at Blackthorn Academy weren’t built for comfort. They were built for intimidation.

I slipped into the first one on my schedule—Gothic Literature—feeling the weight of the room swallow me whole. The walls were carved stone, the ceilings high and shadowed by dark beams. Chandeliers glowed faintly overhead, their light more ominous than warm. Rows of desks gleamed, polished to perfection, and every seat was already filled with students who looked like they belonged in the glossy pages of some elite magazine.

I did not.

Their eyes tracked me as I walked in, some curious, most dismissive. A few whispered openly, hands covering smirks. I kept my back straight, my face blank, my pulse pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

There was one empty seat—dead center, halfway down the row. The worst possible place for someone who wanted to disappear. But it was all I had.

As I slid into it, I felt it.

The burn of eyes on me. Again.

My stomach twisted, and I didn’t have to look to know.

Lucian.

I forced myself to glance around the room anyway, my gaze scanning the rows. And there he was, near the back, his long body sprawled lazily in his chair like he owned not just the desk but the entire school. His uniform hung open the same way it had outside, tie still loose, dark hair falling into his eyes.

Eyes that were locked on me.

I swallowed hard, my pen slipping slightly between my fingers. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t smirking. He was just watching. And somehow that was worse.

I shifted in my seat, heat crawling up my neck.

The professor swept in then, cutting through the tension, launching into a lecture about Byron and Shelley. But I couldn’t focus. Every few minutes, I felt Lucian’s gaze slide over me again. Sharp. Unrelenting. Like invisible threads binding me in place.

Why me?

I scribbled notes furiously, as though writing fast enough would erase the feeling of his stare. It didn’t.

When the class ended, I shoved my things into my bag as quickly as possible. I needed air. Distance. Sanity.

I was almost out the door when another voice, low and smooth, brushed against me.

“Not everyone earns a scholarship to Blackthorn.”

I stopped. The tone wasn’t mocking—it was curious. Intrigued.

Turning, I found myself staring at a boy who looked like sin dipped in sunlight. His blazer fit him perfectly, his tie neat, his shoes polished until they shone. His hair was golden-brown, cut in a way that screamed expensive salons, and his eyes… God, his eyes. A piercing silver-gray that seemed to see straight through me.

Damon Veyron. I didn’t know his name yet, but I could feel it in the way the room shifted around him, in the way the other students hovered without daring to approach. Power radiated from him, but not the same kind as Lucian’s dark, brooding weight. Damon’s power was sharper. Brighter. Dangerous in a different way.

“Uh…” I managed, my voice tighter than I wanted. “Yeah. I, um… worked for it.”

His lips curved. Not cruelly, but with an edge that promised trouble. “I don’t doubt it.”

He leaned just slightly closer, enough to lower his voice so only I could hear. “But I do wonder… how long you’ll last here.”

The words echoed Lucian’s, but the delivery was different. Where Lucian’s warning felt like a threat carved in blood, Damon’s sounded like a challenge.

I swallowed, searching for something to say. “Long enough to prove people wrong.”

Damon’s eyes sparkled, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. “Good answer.”

Before I could say anything else, the air shifted.

I didn’t have to look to know why.

Lucian.

The crowd at the door parted as he entered, his presence consuming the space effortlessly. The lazy arrogance in his stride, the danger etched into every line of his body—it was impossible not to notice him. Students stepped aside instinctively, like the sea parting for its master.

And his gaze went straight to me.

Then flicked to Damon.

The tension between them was immediate. A charge in the air, thick enough to taste. Damon didn’t move, didn’t flinch, just let his smirk deepen as if he enjoyed the weight of Lucian’s glare.

I, on the other hand, suddenly felt like a rabbit trapped between two wolves.

Lucian’s eyes pinned me. Possessive. Warning. Mine.

Damon’s eyes lingered too. Amused. Curious. Not yet.

My chest tightened, heat crawling under my skin.

“I should… get to my next class,” I muttered, slipping past Damon before either of them could say more.

But as I hurried down the hall, my pulse racing, one truth burned hotter than anything else.

I wasn’t invisible here.

I wasn’t safe.

And somehow, between Lucian Draxen and Damon Veyron, I had just stepped into a game I didn’t understand.

A game I wasn’t sure I could win.