Chapter Twelve: Blood and bonds
Ash POV
I've been trying to find a way to approach Arabella all week.
I want to apologize for how I treated her. And also because I can't stop fucking thinking about her.
It doesn't help that every single person on this cursed campus won't shut up about her.
The Pink Witch this. The Pink Witch that.
"She's wearing pink again," someone whispers like it's a shocking revelation. Well, no shit. She's called the Pink Witch for a reason.
They talk about her constantly. I get it. She's the most interesting thing to happen to Astral Academy in years. But when you're actively trying not to think about someone, hearing their name on everyone's lips doesn't help.
Just one problem.
She has a tail.
A fucking clingy, pointy eared tail.
Elion.
Every time I see her, he's right there. Drifting beside her like some smug accessory.
Like now. They're walking across the dewy lawn, through the ever-present fog that makes Astral feel like a graveyard. I don't even need to strain to recognize her—her outfit is obnoxiously pink and vibrant, practically glowing.
Behind her, Elion walks with her school bag and tiny purse slung over one shoulder. Really?
I grit my teeth.
Apparently, he's not leaving her alone. Fine. Then I won't either.
I start walking.
The grass is damp, soaking into my boots. The morning air is cold and clings to my skin, typical of Astral's cursed weather.
I approach them and plant myself directly in front of them.
"Hey," I say.
Arabella smiles. "Oh, hey Ash."
"May I speak to you? Alone?" I add, glancing at the fae beside her.
She blinks, then glances at him. "Ellie, I'll find you."
Ellie? Really?
"Of course," Elion says, brushing her hair back and pressing a kiss to her neck. His eyes are locked on mine the whole time.
"You'll find me at home," he says smoothly.
Then he vanishes.
Bastard.
Arabella starts walking again, her tiny skirt swishing with every step. She's wearing a coat , but it does little to hide her legs. The morning fog clings to her like silk.
"So," she says casually, "what'd you want to talk about?"
She's so small next to me. I didn't notice it before. Her presence makes her seem taller than she is.
"I wanted to apologize. For the way I treated you. I was prejudiced."
"Yeah, you didn't do anything wrong," she says, brushing it off.
"I did. You know I did. I'm sorry."
She stops walking. Turns to face me.
She steps close. Too close.
Her brown eyes lock onto mine, catching in the weak morning light.
"Since you seem genuinely sorry," she says softly, "I'll let it go."
Then she taps my chest lightly.
She takes a step back.
But the grass is slick with dew.
She slips.
"Whoa—" I reach forward, grabbing her waist, trying to steady her.
But she pulls me down with her. We crash onto the grass, her body under mine.
She winces.
"Shit, sorry," I mutter.
"It's fine…" she says, trying to sit up.
Then she hisses.
"What?"
She lifts her arm. There's a long gash along her forearm. The fall must've cut her on one of the sharp stones embedded in the lawn.
"You're bleeding," I say, unable to look away.
She follows my gaze.
"Oh. Damn it."
I smell it.Her blood.
It hits me like a punch to the gut. Sweet, intoxicating, like sun-warmed fruit and vanilla. My fangs ache. Like literally, which doesn't make any fucking sense cause I had pint of blood this morning.
"You okay?" she asks.
I nod. Lie.
"Yeah."
But I'm not.I clench my jaw, but it doesn't stop the tremble in my fingers. I try to pull away, but her hand comes up and grabs mine.
"I'm sorry this is making you uncomfortable isn't it?" she says.
I blink.
"You… your eyes. They're redder than before. You need blood."
I want to deny it. To stand and walk away.But I'm too far gone. And she's too calm about it.
"Just do it," she says.
"Arabella—"
"You helped me with the fall. This is my thank you. Besides, you'll be less grumpy."
I don't move. She lifts her arm, offering the bleeding wrist.
I stare. Then slowly, hesitantly, I lower my mouth to her skin.
The moment my lips touch her, I feel everything tilt.
I sink my fangs into her wrist.
She gasps. Not in pain. It sounds… startled. Like she didn't expect it to feel like that.
Warmth floods through me. Her blood is unlike anything I've tasted. Potent. Thrumming with something ancient. It shouldn't be this rich. This addictive.
I pull back before I lose control.
I lick the wound closed and look up.
Her cheeks are flushed. Her pupils blown wide.
"You good?" she asks, voice low.
I nod.
But inside?
I'm spiraling.
Because that wasn't just blood.
That was a bond forming.
And I'm fucked.