Five

Five

Trisha POV

Erik and I sat out the mile run. The coach didn’t argue, just told me I’d have to make it up before the semester ended. My head was spinning, the world a blurry, watercolor painting. Gavin’s scent—or whatever cologne he wore—was a thick, sweet poison in the air, coating my thoughts and making it impossible to think straight. To make it a thousand times worse, I was achingly, humiliatingly aroused. I could feel the slick evidence of it, a damp warmth that seemed to be trickling down my inner thighs even now as I sat cross-legged on the grass, trying to disappear.

“I think Gavin likes you,” Erik teased, nudging me with his elbow.

I shot him a look of pure disbelief. “What? No. He’s just being nice. I’ve done nothing but make a complete fool of myself today…” If he did like me, it wasn’t in any reasonable capacity. I’d had admirers before, a long line of them, but none had ever commanded my attention like this. Not like Gavin, who held it captive whether I wanted to give it or not. And I desperately hoped Erik was wrong. I didn’t want another admirer to fight off. He was probably just trying to get a reaction, like all the others.

Erik laughed, a low, knowing sound. “Be in denial all you want. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who noticed the tent in his shorts!”

I snorted, my face burning. “Of course you’d notice something like that. I personally don’t see why it matters. I’m never going to date anyone, and it’s not like he’d be the first guy to get a hard-on over me.”

Erik waggled his eyebrows and pointed to the track. “Never say never,” he snickered.

I followed his finger and gasped, a sharp, helpless sound. Gavin was stripping off his shirt. It felt like my entire body short-circuited. A fresh, hot gush of wetness soaked through my underwear as a vivid, explicit image slammed into my mind: my hands running down those hard, defined pecs, my fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen as he drove himself into me, my own voice moaning his name, broken and pleading… *Wait, what!?* I couldn’t breathe. Something was very, very wrong with me. I was sick in the head. Thoughts like that didn’t belong to a virgin.

I jumped to my feet, but a wave of nausea hit me so hard I staggered, the world swaying violently. I bolted, not caring where I was going, just needing to escape. I found the girl’s locker room, stumbled to the nearest toilet, and heaved until my stomach was a hollow, aching knot. Yep. I was definitely sick. I flushed, rinsed my mouth at the sink, and stared at my reflection. My face was blotchy and flushed, my pupils wide, dark pools.

I took a few deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm the frantic, pulsating ache between my legs. Why was my body doing this? I was a virgin. The only “intimacy” I’d ever known was my uncle forcing those horrible pictures, his hands on my breasts before we were thankfully interrupted. The memory made me shiver, tears stinging my eyes. A sudden, desperate urge to pleasure myself washed over me, an image of my own hand slipping between my thighs to relieve the pressure, but the thought felt morally wrong, filthy. I’d never do that.

It’s not like I didn’t know about sex. I was well-educated, both by my own curiosity and the forced education of the state system. And believe me, living in a group home with hyper-sexually active roommates left little to the imagination.

Instead of indulging the thoughts, I grabbed a towel and stripped, stepping into a shower. I turned the water on as cold as it would go. The icy shock was a blessing. It hit my face and chest, and as it trickled lower, it soothed the angry, aching heat of my sex. I sighed in pure relief, letting the water run over me until I heard the other girls trickling in. I quickly got out, dried off, and dressed again, making sure to change into the spare underwear I always kept, just in case my cycle started. I put a pad on, too.

I wasn’t ready to go home yet. Now that I’d had a moment alone, I felt better, calmer, though a dull pressure still lingered low in my belly. I gathered my things and headed to my next class before the next bell. I knew Erik would be worried, but I needed as much distance between Gavin and me as possible.

For whatever reason, he triggered these overwhelming sensations in me, and my mind was scrambling for a rational explanation. Was this a crush? Or something more? I shook my head. I was being ridiculous. It was just sickness. My period was coming, or I had a stomach bug. It was the only explanation.

I hurried to my locker, swapped my gym clothes for my art supplies, and headed to the art room. I arrived early, claiming an easel in the back corner. Please, please, please, don’t let him share my next period! I prayed, but my heart sank into my stomach when the second bell rang and Gavin entered behind a couple of other students.

Some girls were actively giggling and flirting with him. My chest clenched with a pain so sharp it stole my breath, and tears stung behind my eyes. Why did that bother me? It didn’t matter. I didn’t like him. He wasn’t my boyfriend. Girls could flirt with him. Date him. I had nothing to do with him. I turned away and slumped my head to my desk. The suffocating heat and pressure built up once more. Not again…

Gavin POV

I fought so hard not to snarl at the incessant she-wolves who had swarmed me the moment P.E. ended. If Trisha hadn’t been in the room, I would have put them all in their place with a guttural roar. I had no interest in them. I only had eyes for my mate. But she was across the room, head bowed, shoulders trembling, and I knew she could feel this chaos—feel me—and it was tearing her apart. That thought burned hotter than their unwanted touch.

“Enough,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. It wasn’t loud, but it carried the weight of my Royal command. A few froze, but others only smirked, emboldened by the challenge. “Come on,” one teased, her lips curling. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy the attention.”

I turned slowly, letting my gaze sweep over them—cold, commanding, a silent warning. “I’m not interested,” I growled, the sound a near-rumble in my chest. The air thickened, their laughter faltering as instinct kicked in. They felt it—the edge of something feral. One tried again, bold enough to trail her nails along my wrist.

My hand shot out, catching hers mid-motion. Not hard, but firm enough to make her breath hitch. “Don’t,” I said, my voice like steel. Her eyes widened, and for the first time, silence fell. I released her and stepped back, slow and deliberate, dominance radiating like heat. “Go,” I commanded.

They scattered, finally, muttering as they fled. My pulse still thundered, but my eyes were already locked on Trisha—pale, trembling. My mate. My reason. Now, to deal with a far more stubborn problem.

*Eon, let me withdraw our aura! We are causing her pain! Let me do this my way!*

But Eon ignored me. Ever since he’d discovered what our aura did to her, he’d refused to let me fully retract it, keeping it seeping out just enough to affect her. It made the other students bow their heads in submission, but it left Trisha visibly struggling. I pointedly looked at a male shifter whose eyes were glowing, his beast close to the surface. His nostrils were flaring, drinking in Trisha’s potent scent. His nails were lengthening into claws, digging into the wood of his desk as he fought for control.

*Eon, if for no other reason, pull it back to protect her from these males! They can scent her arousal! Drop our aura! Now!*

A sudden, possessive fury engulfed me. It was Eon’s. ‘Fine,’ he finally relented, and the aura snapped back, the pressure in the room instantly lessening. God, it should not have taken me this long to rein in my own wolf. The mate bond was already fraying my centuries of control.

I watched as Trisha’s tense shoulders finally slumped, her body going limp with exhaustion. My own heart clenched in regret. We had done that to her. Eon whimpered, a sound I never thought I’d hear from him. We’d need to be more cautious.

I decided then to raise my hand. When the teacher, a Lycan, acknowledged me, I gestured toward Trisha. “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Trisha doesn’t look so good. Do you mind if I escort her to the nurse’s office?”

I wasn’t asking. He nodded. “She does look a bit pale. You may assist her.”

I stood and walked toward her. Her eyes widened in alarm, but she pushed herself up on shaky legs, trying to lead the way. She took one step, her legs buckled, and she pitched forward. I caught her, pulling her flush against my chest.

She looked up at me, a vision of embarrassed, exhausted defeat, a sheen of sweat glistening on her brow. I didn’t miss the way her eyes watered, or how they subconsciously flickered to the girls who were now glaring at her. Irritation budded in my chest, but Trisha was all that mattered. *See what you’ve done, Eon? She won’t last if we keep pushing her!*

‘If you would just mate her, there would be nothing to complain about!’ Eon shot back.

I clenched my jaw, forcing down the growl as I gently wrapped her arm over my shoulders. Her weight settled against me, warm and solid, and every nerve in my body lit up like fire. Each brush of her frame against mine sent a surge through me—raw, aching, primal. My cock, already semi-hard, stiffened to full, painful attention, a throbbing ache that demanded I press closer, claim more. Eon howled for more, but I locked it down, step by step. Her scent was everywhere—soft, human, maddeningly sweet. It curled around me, teasing, pulling, until my chest felt too tight to breathe.

The nurse’s office door creaked open, and the fae man behind the desk arched a brow. I guided Trisha to the single bed. The moment her head touched the pillow, sleep claimed her like a tide.

I stood there, staring down at her, my pulse a steady roar in my ears. Even unconscious, she was everything. Mine. Just not yet. I knew then, with absolute certainty, that she wasn’t immune to auras. She simply had a resistance so high it was unheard of.

“What’s wrong with her, your grace?” the faerie asked.

“My aura was… too much for her. I was testing its limits,” A half truth. “She simply needs to rest. And perhaps… could you alleviate her pheromones?”

The faerie’s other brow joined the first. He wouldn’t ask, but he would suspect. He nodded, moving to the bed. I watched as he passed a hand over her body without touching her. A soft blue light emanated from his palm. He seemed to find the source, and his hand hovered over her lower abdomen. The light pulsed, then flowed into her. Immediately, the intoxicating scent of her arousal vanished, and Trisha sighed, melting into a deeper, more peaceful sleep.

“Does this mean you are finally going to be able to tame this Rogue?” he asked suddenly.

My eyes snapped to his. Eon growled, and I knew my pupils flashed, betraying his presence. I hadn’t realized how much I hated that nickname for her. “I don’t want her called that anymore. She has simply been… misunderstood. As for taming, she doesn’t need taming. Rather… some gentle guidance,” I said carefully.

‘You may as well have just told him you’re going to seduce her into submission,’ Eon scoffed.

*What the hell is that supposed to mean?*

‘Faeries can see lies, you coxcomb saddle-goose!’

I snorted. *I know full well they can! Hence why it wasn’t a lie, but a gentle, subtle version of the truth. And don’t insult me without recompense, dilberry maker!* I smirked in satisfaction as Eon snorted, realizing I was essentially calling him an asshole. He turned his rear to my mind’s eye and stalked away. I nodded to the faerie, who was watching me with open amusement, and then I left. Sometimes, being as old as I am meant having a very colorful vocabulary.