Chapter 4 - I Don't Need Your Help

•• Seleste’s POV •••

By the time I made it back to the dorm, my shoulder throbbed with every step. Blood seeped through the fabric of my shirt, darkening the gray cotton with each slow pulse. I pressed my hand against the wound, biting back a hiss. It was deep, and it was enough to make hiding it difficult.

It was enough for me to need to take care of. It wasn't going to heal on its own, at least not for a while. I knew that it was going to need a few days. However, I also knew that I was going to need to take care of it before I got infected in a place like this.

“What did you do?” I muttered to myself, shaking my head.

Stupid. I should have been more careful. I should have known better than to take on Tristan with so much force. The fight had gotten under my skin, his suspicion a knife-edge pressing against my carefully constructed façade. 

But I knew that I still needed to prove myself if I was going to stay here, if I was going to stay away from the pit of cleaning until I was kicked out, I was going to need to show them that I needed to fit here, that I could fit here.

I pushed the door open with my uninjured arm, slipping inside and letting it close softly behind me. The dorm was quiet, shadows stretching across the floor as the late afternoon sun filtered through the narrow window. Relief washed over me. Ezekiel wasn’t here. At least I thought that he wasn't.

“Well, well. Look who finally made it back.” He said from the far corner of the room.

My eyes snapped up, finding him lounging on his bed, one leg crossed over the other, a book resting on his lap. His silver eyes gleamed, catching the light, and I felt a shiver crawl up my spine.

“Training ran late,” I said, keeping my voice steady. I moved slowly, angling my injured shoulder away from him. “What are you doing here?”

He smirked. “This is my room too, remember?”

I clenched my jaw. Stay calm. Stay in control. “I thought you’d be at dinner. That's where I saw you heading.”

“I was.” He shut the book, the soft thud echoing in the quiet room. “I would have been there, but I wasn't really hungry after a while.”

I nodded, keeping my movements minimal. I needed to get to the bathroom, to clean the wound before the scent of blood, and check the wound.

“Your shirt is stained.” He said, looking at me. “Blood.”

My heart lurched. “What?”

He rose from the bed, his movements unhurried. His gaze never left me, sharp and assessing. “Your shoulder. It’s bleeding.”

I forced a laugh, but it sounded brittle. “Just a scratch. No big deal.”

“It looks like more than a scratch.” He took a step closer, and I mirrored him, keeping the distance between us. “Let me see. I hope you clean that up.”

“I’ve got it.” I backed toward the bathroom door, my fingers slipping on the handle. “I just need to clean it up.”

“Aiden.” His voice was gentle, but there was steel beneath it. “You’re hurt. Let me help. You don't need to be stubborn.”

The door refused to open, and the handle jammed. Panic bubbled under my skin. I pulled harder, my breath hitching. “I said I’m fine. You don't need to help.”

Ezekiel’s expression shifted, the easy smile fading. He took another step, and I had nowhere to go. “You’re acting strange. What’s going on? It's not like I'm going to hurt you, I just want to help you clean it up.”

“Nothing.” I pressed my back against the door, my wounded shoulder sending sharp jolts of pain through my body. “I don’t need your help.”

His brows drew together, concerned edging into his features. “You’re pale. Sit down before you pass out. You haven't eaten anything. You came straight here from training. You're going to need to strengthen your body.”

“I’m not going to.” I gritted my teeth, forcing my body to stay upright. I couldn’t afford to look weak. Not now. Not in front of him. “I'm fine, I just need to go and take a shower. I'm going to clean the wound once I do.”

“Aiden.” His voice was closer, the warmth of it brushing against my skin. His hands came up, hovering just inches from me. “Let me put some ointment on it. I won’t touch anything I shouldn’t. It's not like I don't have a chest like you do anyway. You know, men do take off their shirts. It's not like you're wearing a bra.”

My wolf bristled, the urge to snap at him, to bare my teeth and push him away rising fast. I forced it down, breathing through the pain, through the panic.

“No.” My voice was sharper than I intended. His eyes widened, and I saw a flash of something, hurt? Suspicion? “I can handle it.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t step back. “Why won’t you let me help? I don't understand what you are trying to hide.”

“Because I don’t need your help,” I said, the words tumbling out too quickly. “I just want to clean it up and get some rest. Please, just let me.”

Silence stretched between us, taut and dangerous. His silver eyes searched mine, and I had to fight not to flinch under the weight of his gaze. He was too close, too perceptive. He would see through me, through the thin veneer of Aiden to the truth beneath.

“Fine.” He stepped back, the loss of his presence a rush of cold air against my skin. “If that’s what you want. I'll let you be whatever it is that you want to do. Go on ahead.”

Relief crashed over me. I twisted the handle again, and this time, it gave way. I slipped inside, shutting the door behind me, the lock clicking into place. My knees gave out, and I sank to the cool tiles, my back pressed against the wood.

My shoulder throbbed, blood slicking my hand as I pulled my shirt aside to examine the wound. It wasn’t deep, but it was raw and ugly, with swollen and angry edges. I needed to clean it before infection set in.

I forced myself to my feet, turning on the faucet and letting the water run until it was scalding. I ripped off a piece of gauze from the first aid kit under the sink, biting down on my lip as I pressed it against the wound. Pain flared, sharp and bright, but I welcomed it. 

It grounded me, brought me back to reality.

You’re still here. You’re still safe.

For now, I was safe. For now.

I washed away the blood, wrapping the wound as tightly as I could. I avoided looking at my reflection, knowing the fear in my eyes would only make it worse. When I finally opened the door, the room was empty. Ezekiel was gone.

I moved to my bed, every step a reminder of how close I’d come to losing everything. I sank onto the mattress, pulling the blanket around me, curling into a tight ball. 

My mind raced, replaying every second of our conversation, every look, every word.

I was going to need to be more careful. I was going to need to know how to handle things, especially if I'm going to be sharing the room with him. This dorm was for the two of us. However, it was a strange, dangerous aspect for me. And the more he doubted me, the worse things were going to be.

He was too smart. Too observant. I couldn’t let this happen again. I couldn’t let him see through me. I couldn't let him know what I was, who I was.

Because if he did, I wouldn’t just lose my place here.

I would lose my life.

And not only that, but I could actually risk my family, too.