I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
Patréon.com/emperordragon
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I left Erica with the nurse, making sure she was stable before slipping out. My chest still carried the echo of catching her, the faint tremor of adrenaline that hadn't quite burned away. I headed straight for the boy's washroom, needing a moment to breathe, to rinse off the weight.
Cold water hit my face, sharp and grounding. I leaned over the sink, palms braced, watching the droplets race down porcelain. My reflection stared back at me, unreadable.
Then the door creaked open.
I straightened, already reaching for a paper towel, when a flash of red hair in the mirror made me pause. Lydia.
"You're not supposed to be in here," I said, drying my face with slow, deliberate movements.
She just smiled, that sly curve of her lips that could disarm half the school.
And then she closed the distance. Smooth, graceful, deliberate. The smell of her perfume filled the tiled room, sharp and sweet, impossible to ignore.
"I saw what you did," she purred, her voice dipped in honey. "A hero swooping in to save the day…" Her eyes flicked over me, amusement sparking in their green depths. "Heroes should be rewarded."
She rose up slightly, lips parting, face tilting toward mine.
I caught her shoulders before she could close the gap. Firm, steady. Just inches apart but not touching.
"Lydia," I said evenly, locking my gaze on hers, "I know what this is. You're doing it to amuse yourself… and to make Jackson jealous. But I'm not going to be your little play toy."
Her smile only deepened, turning sharper, more dangerous. She leaned into my grip, not resisting but pressing closer, as though testing how firm my line really was.
"This has nothing to do with Jackson," she whispered, lashes lowering just slightly. "I don't know what it is about you, Lucas, but you've definitely caught my attention."
I shook my head, holding her steady. "Be that as it may, I'm still not interested. And I don't do cheating."
That only seemed to embolden her. She tilted her head, her breath brushing against my cheek, her words a low, sultry taunt. "Don't lie. You do a great job of hiding it, but I can tell—you find me attractive. Everyone does."
"As for cheating," she continued, her smile turning razor-sharp, "Jackson fools around with other girls all the time. He thinks I don't know. So it's not much of a betrayal if I start doing it too."
I didn't move. Didn't let her see a flicker of reaction. But my body betrayed me in another way. With my heightened senses, I could tell when someone lied… and Lydia wasn't lying now.
Her words rang with truth. No hesitation. No false note.
I stood there, still holding her shoulders, her face mere inches from mine. The tension between us was sharp enough to cut through the silence of the tiled room.
Every instinct in me screamed to let her go, but another part—the cursed part of me, a teenage boy and a werewolf—didn't want to. She was right. She was beautiful, sharp, confident. Who wouldn't be attracted to her?
Her perfume wrapped around me, sweet and intoxicating, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of adrenaline in her blood. My heightened senses betrayed me, picking up the rapid flutter of her pulse, the warmth radiating from her skin. I knew her attraction was real, and that knowledge sent a jolt through me, unraveling the edges of my self-control.
Damn teenage hormones, I thought, forcing myself to steady my breath. But it wasn't just that. It was her—the way her lips curved into a knowing smile, the way her green eyes locked onto mine, daring me. For a long moment, we just stood there, unflinching, the air between us thick with something unspoken. I told myself to resist, to stand firm, but my resolve was crumbling.
I leaned in, drawn by the magnetic pull of her presence. Our lips met, and the world narrowed to just the two of us. The kiss was fire—fierce, demanding, the kind that made my pulse roar in my ears and my thoughts dissolve into static. For once, I wasn't measured, wasn't calculating—I was just lost in the heat of her, the softness of her lips, the way her breath hitched against mine.
Lydia matched me, her hands sliding up my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt like she never wanted to let go. She kissed me with a hunger that made it impossible to remember why this was supposed to be wrong. The scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her body pressed against mine—it was overwhelming, intoxicating.
Then—footsteps echoed in the hallway.
My ears twitched, instincts snapping me back to reality. Without thinking, I pulled her into one of the stalls, easing the door shut behind us. We stood there, close, our breaths ragged, our faces still just inches apart. The space was small, the air thick with the heat of our bodies and the lingering taste of her on my lips.
For a second, neither of us spoke. The footsteps faded away into silence, but the tension between us didn't. Lydia let out a small, breathless laugh, her lips still parted, her eyes shining with something wild and exhilarated. I forced myself to meet her gaze, clinging to what little restraint I had left. I didn't trust myself to say anything. Not yet.
But from the way she looked at me—amused, triumphant, like she'd just discovered a secret she had no intention of giving up—I knew one thing for certain: whatever had just happened between us, it had left its mark on both of us.