Nova
Chapter Four – Intervention
For the first time since meeting Damien Blackthorne, I realized something that scared me more than his anger.
I didn't know if I wanted him to let go.
His hand still clamped my wrist, the heat of his body burning into mine, his shadow swallowing me whole against the wreck of my car. My lungs worked like I'd run a mile, but it wasn't just the accident—it was him. His stare cut into me, wild and merciless, like he was two seconds away from devouring me alive.
And I hated it.
I hated him.
I hated how my pulse leapt like some stupid traitor every time his eyes pinned me.
"Enough."
The voice sliced through the air like a whip, commanding, feminine, impossible to ignore. Both of us froze, Damien's grip tightening once, like a warning, before he released me.
The crowd shifted, and that's when I saw her
A Woman.
She had this commanding air to her.
She must be the real principal. Not the stiff little assistant with the clipboard at the orientation earlier. This woman didn't need props. She walked straight through the chaos, heels clicking like gunfire, her presence so sharp it made even Damien's fury pause.
And that was when I knew.
He didn't fear her.
But he respected her.
"Let her go, Blackthorne," she ordered, not even raising her voice. "This is a peace treaty, not a war zone."
Every student within earshot sucked in a breath. Damien's jaw ticked, like he was deciding whether to disobey her in front of everyone. My skin still tingled where his fingers had been, my body screaming at me for reasons I couldn't explain.
Finally, he stepped back, his eyes still locked on me, so dark it felt like he'd marked me even without touching me. Then he disappeared into the fog.
The principal turned to me, her stare no softer. "You will work off the damage. Every dent, every scratch, every broken artifact. Consider it your punishment for breaking sacred grounds."
Laughter rippled through the crowd. My humiliation burned hotter than the crash flames still sputtering behind me. Perfect. Day one, and I was already the school disaster.
Later, when I finally made it to the dorm, I hoped Serena wasn't back yet—but she was.
My stepsister.
Perched on the edge of the bed like she'd been waiting, arms folded, lips curled in that smug smile I'd grown up hating.
"Well, well," she drawled. "Didn't even take you twenty-four hours to turn the entire school against you. Bravo, Nova."
I wanted to scream. Or cry. Or just crawl under the blanket and vanish. Instead, I tossed my bag on the floor and snapped, "Shut up."
She only laughed, the sound sharp enough to slice what was left of my pride.
And the worst part? She was right. I had made a mess of things.
But when I closed my eyes, replaying the accident, replaying his hand slamming me against the car, replaying his voice dripping venom inches from my lips…
I realized what I hated most wasn't him.
It was the way every nerve in my body still remembered him.
Like fire.
Like danger.
Like something I should run from—
But didn't want to.
I buried myself under the blanket like it could shield me from Serena's smug laughter, from the whispers I knew would be spreading across campus by morning, from the scorch of Damien's grip still haunting my skin. But the silence of the dorm only made it worse. Every time I closed my eyes, it replayed—the snarl in his voice, the dangerous heat in his stare, the way my stupid pulse had danced like I wanted him to hold me tighter.
I hated him.
I hated me more for feeling… that.
Eventually, exhaustion dragged me under.
And then—darkness.
The academy halls stretched endless around me, bathed in shadows. My footsteps echoed as I ran, breath coming fast, chased by something I couldn't see. A beast. Its growl rattled the walls, closer with every step. My chest burned, panic clawing up my throat.
I stumbled, almost fell, the thing's breath hot on the back of my neck—
And then he was there.
Damien.
He slammed me against the wall, his body a barrier between me and the shadows. His arm braced beside my head, his chest heaving like he'd chased me through hell. His storm-grey eyes locked on mine, burning, unrelenting.
Only this time, there were no insults.
No threats.
Just heat.
Before I could breathe, his lips crashed into mine.
The world went white-hot. His mouth was rough, demanding, like he was devouring me, claiming me. I gasped, the sound swallowed instantly, my body traitorously melting against him. It was wrong. All wrong. And yet—every nerve lit up like fire, every shiver screamed yes even as my mind screamed no.
My hands pushed at his chest—weakly, uselessly—because gods, I didn't want him to stop.
The shadows behind us howled, swallowed whole by the sheer force of his kiss.
When he finally tore back, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath ragged, his voice a rasp against my lips.
"Tell me you don't want this."
I woke up with a choke, sitting bolt upright in bed. My skin burned, my lips tingled like the ghost of his kiss still lingered. Heart racing, sheets tangled around me, I stared at the ceiling in horror.
No. No, no, no.
Of all the nightmares I could've had—why that? Why him?
God. That kiss.
It wasn't even supposed to happen, but the second his mouth crashed onto mine, it felt like being set on fire from the inside out. My knees went weak, my brain blanked, and for a split second I swore the world tilted just to watch me fall apart under Damien freaking Blackwood.
His lips were hard, demanding, like he owned me—like he knew exactly what to do to ruin me. And the worst part? I let him. I wanted more. My body leaned in before my brain could scream danger, danger, danger.
And I hated myself for it.
Because if one kiss felt like that, then what the hell would it be like if he…
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. I am not finishing that thought.
I shoved it down, locked it up, threw away the key. Because the last thing I needed was imagining Damien pinning me anywhere else but against that wall.
It was just a dream.
Furious, I yanked the blanket over my head, trying to smother the heat crawling up my neck.
Because the most terrifying part wasn't the dream kiss itself.
It was how much I'd wanted it.