BloodBound

Chapter Seven

Evelyn

The chalk squeaked across the board.

The sound should’ve been normal—just another morning at Blackthorn Academy, another endless lecture in these ancient stone halls—but every scrape dug into my spine like claws. I couldn’t focus on equations or theories. My mind was still trapped in that stairwell.

Trapped with him.

Lucian.

Even thinking his name made my stomach twist. Not in fear, not exactly. Something worse. Something that made my pulse race and my palms sweat and my knees weak like I’d been running.

The way he’d cornered me last night, shadows crawling around him, the cold stone biting my back as he leaned in close… He hadn’t kissed me. He hadn’t bitten me. But it had been close. Too close. His breath against my throat, his eyes glowing in the dark, his voice whispering like a vow.

I hate him.

I hate that he does this to me.

I hate that I can’t stop thinking about him.

I clenched my pencil tighter, forcing myself to focus on the teacher’s droning. Numbers blurred together. I tapped my notebook furiously, as if the rhythm could drown out the memory of his hands caging me in.

“Psst.”

I flinched, turning slightly. Damon sat beside me, leaning casually back in his chair. His dark hair fell over his forehead, his mouth curved in that lazy, infuriating smile.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he whispered.

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe I have.”

He chuckled softly, his voice carrying a warmth Lucian’s never had. “Let me guess… late-night studying? Or nightmares?”

“Something like that.” I tried to keep my voice even, but I knew my lie was transparent. Damon’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he could read the truth in my pulse.

“Careful, Evelyn.” He leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear. “Secrets have a way of eating you alive in this place.”

My throat tightened. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. Could he?

I straightened, staring hard at the board. But my body betrayed me. The fine hairs at the back of my neck rose, not from Damon’s closeness—though that was distracting enough—but from the weight behind me.

Lucian.

I didn’t have to turn to know he was there. He always sat one row back, always in the shadows like he belonged to them. His stare burned between my shoulder blades, hot and unrelenting, a leash I couldn’t break.

I tried to breathe evenly. Tried to pretend I wasn’t caught between two predators circling the same prey.

Me.

---

When the teacher called on me, my mind was blank.

“Miss Blackwood,” the old man said, tapping his chalk against the equation scrawled across the board. “Solve for x.”

I froze, pen trembling in my fingers. The entire room went silent, expectant. My chest tightened. The numbers swam before me, meaningless.

Then a low voice slid against my ear, velvet and smoke.

“Seven.”

Lucian.

I jolted, my heart stopping, heat crawling across my skin. His voice was too close, too deep. I didn’t dare turn, didn’t dare show the class that he’d spoken. But the answer spilled from my lips before I could stop it.

“Seven,” I whispered, then louder, “Seven.”

The teacher nodded, satisfied. “Correct. Continue.”

My face burned. My hands shook as I scribbled the rest of the problem, but I couldn’t concentrate. Not with his breath still clinging to my ear, not with the ghost of his presence brushing down my spine like a brand.

---

By the time the bell rang, I was unraveling. My books felt heavy in my arms as I shoved them against my chest, determined to bolt for the door. But Damon was faster.

He blocked my path with a grin, leaning against the desk with infuriating ease. “Lunch?”

“I—” My eyes flicked past him, instinctively searching. And of course, there he was. Lucian. Standing in the doorway, waiting. Watching. His arms folded, his expression carved from ice, but his eyes… oh God, those eyes. They pinned me in place, daring me to move.

“Yes,” I blurted to Damon, if only because some fiery, reckless part of me wanted to see what Lucian would do. “Lunch sounds great.”

Damon’s smile deepened. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

He offered his hand. I ignored it, brushing past him instead. But I felt Lucian’s gaze follow every step, heavier than chains.

---

The cafeteria buzzed with noise, the clatter of trays and the hum of gossip. Damon guided me to a corner table, away from the crowd. His charm was effortless, his conversation light, distracting. I almost let myself relax—until the air shifted.

Lucian slid into the seat across from us.

No invitation. No words. Just presence. Cold, dark, suffocating.

Damon arched a brow. “Joining us, Lucian?”

Lucian’s gaze didn’t flick to him. Didn’t flick anywhere but me. “Yes.”

The single word landed like a stone in my chest.

Damon chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re relentless.”

“You have no idea,” Lucian murmured, eyes locked on mine.

I swallowed hard, my fork frozen halfway to my mouth. The table was suddenly too small, the room too loud, my body too aware of every inch between us. Damon leaned back, unbothered, but I could feel the tension crackling between the two of them.

Damon talked. Lucian cut him down with sharp remarks, dangerous truths laced in every word. My food went untouched, my throat too tight to swallow. And the whole time, I sat caught between fire and ice, wanting to scream, wanting to run, wanting… something I didn’t dare name.

When the glass in Lucian’s hand cracked, spilling crimson liquid across the table, I jolted to my feet.

“I’m leaving,” I snapped, my voice trembling.

Damon smirked. Lucian’s jaw clenched. And I stormed out, heat and shadows chasing me down the hall.