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B rick bit into my spine before I could scream. His fingers barely touched my jaw, but my head tilted anyway. Dorian’s violet eyes shifted, flashing blood-red for a moment.

I struggled, but his grip was iron, his breath ghosting over my throat. His mouth hovered right over my pulse, lips brushing over the space where it thundered. An offering. What did that mean? I didn’t know what he was doing, only knew that I couldn’t let him see how afraid I was.

I scented the peppermint on him immediately, then something deeper like the bite of smoke in cold, winter air. I should have felt terrified. I should’ve shouted, or pulled away, but something in me didn’t want to.

“This won’t hurt. Much ,” he murmured, lips brushing my neck. “But if you want me to stop… say so.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but a dozen needle-sharp stings sunk deep into my skin.

I wanted to scream. I think might have, but the night swallowed it whole.

The pain was entirely blinding, searing for just a heartbeat.

Then, came warmth. Euphoria. Heat curled low through my limbs, drowning me in something terrible and syrup-sweet .

My hand had drifted to his chest without realizing. I felt the thud of his heart, maybe. Or mine. He didn’t flinch, just stayed there, drinking like he was starving.

The Thread hissed like it disapproved, and I felt the echo of it swarm my mind. I hated that my body shuddered, not with fear but with something far worse. Want. This was something that only happened in stories, in nightmares. This couldn't be happening, but it was.

The minutes ticked by. At least, I think they did.

Time didn’t move right. Everything slowed, warping, the world softening around the edges.

The initial burn had faded, but in its place bloomed something else, nameless and heady, dark and alive.

His lips were still at my neck, and I was still standing there, letting him take from me.

And even the weakness felt good, sweet and gratifying.

It was the sort of pleasure that hushed every other thought. I should have been afraid. No, I should have been terrified. I wasn’t. I was just…aware of him, of his closeness, of how wrong it felt to lean in, and how much worse it felt that I let myself.

He let out a sound, low and pleased. Then, just as I thought he’d never stop, he did. Dorian let go.

I collapsed, my knees hitting the ground, a hollowness behind my ribs.

I pressed a hand against the open wound, shaking as I withdrew it.

A vibration shattered the silence, and he pulled a sleek black device from his pocket.

A weird looking phone I didn’t recognize the brand of.

Numbers flickered across the screen, rolling downward.

For a moment, I just stood there, swaying.

The world tilted sideways. It was like the something inside me had been ripped open, rewired, and stitched back together wrong.

I pressed against the wound again, expecting it to hurt.

It didn’t. I just felt the slick of blood, heat, and the echo of his mouth against my skin .

“Added more to my score than usual. Didn’t expect that from you.” Dorian watched the screen with amused interest, like all of this was something fascinating. I stumbled backward, ankle rolling. He clicked his tongue. “That’s dark blood you have, Davenant.”

He turned slightly, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand so casually.

It looked almost graceful. The sharp edge of his incisors flashed in the screenlight.

I stared, caught between the pull in my chest and the sickness rising in my throat.

He’d bitten me. Actually drunk my blood. I’d let him.

I hadn’t pushed away once. Not even when I should have.

Not even when I realized I liked it. As the pleasure receded, my body cooled, and logic returned.

Whatever had just happened, whatever Dorian was…

he wasn’t human. Was this what happened to people who made it through the Lower Sixth?

Who took that thing they called the Rift?

I felt frozen in place, Dorian’s eyes locked on mine. Violet. Not human. He didn’t move again, just studied me. Hungry. I was going to be sick. I was going to be sick and I had to get out of here?—

What was wrong with him? What was wrong with me?

I stumbled back clumsily, sprinting back in the direction of the Crossed Keys, boots crunching over gravel, rain needling against my skin. I didn’t turn to see if Dorian had followed me. I couldn’t stop picturing his face, the blood-red eyes, the sharp pain of his teeth in my neck.

That feeling that coiled deep at his touch, the first thing that had made me feel alive since the accident. I hated that I wanted to feel it again, his breath on my throat, his mouth at my skin. Dorian was absolutely reprehensible, and this…this certainly didn’t change that.

I didn’t remember running. I didn’t know how I’d made my way back to the front entrance of the Crossed Keys. My mind was erasing things, leaving only the sting of the rain, my breath, and the awful, gaping hollow in my chest.

“Arabella?” Hugo peeled away from the wall, a pint glass still in hand. His face twisted, some strange mixture of worry or guilt I couldn’t place in the dim light. Maybe he’d been expecting this. Maybe he hadn’t. “Are you okay?”

A sob hitched in my throat, the tears spilling hot down my cheeks before I could stop them. Why was I crying? I didn’t feel sad, just numb. “I need a phone,” was all I could manage, the hand covering my wound dropping to my side.

“ Shit,” Hugo murmured, stepping closer. His touch was steady, all warmth as he reached out to inspect the damage. “I can’t believe he did this. That was unfair. I’m sorry.”

“Do…can I see your phone?” I asked again. My teeth were chattering now, I was shaking so hard I could barely get the words out. The rain poured harder as the door to the Crossed Keys swung open, the yeasty smell hitting my nose again. “Mine got taken away. I have to call my lawyers.”

Hugo drained his pint and set it on the floor before peeling off his leather jacket, draping it over my shoulders. I felt instantly more grounded by its sweet and musky smell, clearly some expensive cologne. “I can’t, I’m afraid.”

I blinked up at him, almost ready to burst out laughing. He was joking, surely. But Hugo’s face remained etched with that same resigned calm. “Why?”

“No outside contact. Once you’re in, you’re in.

I can’t risk our lives like that.” The words hit hard.

We might have been through the gates, but I was no less trapped.

No calls. No help. No way out. The look on his face was all too serious.

The throbbing wound at my neck was all too serious as he said, “We have to see this through, now.”

“No,” I shook my head, that awful lump in my throat returning. “I need your phone, Hugo. I didn’t agree to this. ”

The door swung open again, and this time Ruby tumbled out, her cheeks flushed as though she’d been enjoying herself. Her grin faded as she saw me. “You’re back,” she said weakly. “What happened?”

“Dorian,” Hugo said bitterly. “Looks like he took his offering.”

“Saints,” she muttered. “I didn’t think he actually would. We’re going to get you back to Evermore, Arabella, okay? Hugo, call a taxi.” Her voice sounded distant as she stroked my hair.

I nodded. The numbness was spreading. I’d felt this before. The night of my parents’ accident. It was like the world inhaled and you’d gotten stuck there, somewhere outside of your body. Too much had happened over the past several hours.

Some time later, a taxi pulled up. Whether it had taken hours or minutes I couldn’t be sure. Hugo held open the door and Ruby helped me inside. I rested my head on her lap as she stroked my hair, feeling that now familiar ache in my throat and in the corners of my eyes.

“Don’t take it personally,” she murmured. “It’s almost graduation. Dorian’s a Daemon. He has to feed to advance his score, that’s all. I’m sure yours can take a little hit.”

“I’m sorry?” My fingers pressed against my neck, against the place where Dorian had… God , I couldn’t even think about it. “Did you just say Dorian’s a Daemon?”

“Yeah,” Ruby nodded as she ran a hand down my arm. “He earns a point per drop. He’ll keep it unless you earn it back.”

I remembered what she’d said on our way to the pub. Luminari were born with celestial blood, the kind that could Ascend into Angels or Fall into Daemons.

I pushed off her lap. Suddenly, horrifically, things were starting to click into place. Maybe Ruby wasn’t insane. Maybe I’d dismissed this all a little too quickly. We’d survived a fall that should’ve killed us. Dorian had just drunk from my neck. The tattoos. The mural. The wings.

This wasn’t a cult, or maybe it was. One thing was certain. I’d seen it with my own eyes. Evermore wasn’t just a college, it was a place that turned humans into something else —Angels and Daemons, if Ruby was right.

A gruff noise came from the taxi driver. I stared at Ruby, blinking hard. Rain tracked across the glass, and all I could feel was the vacant thrumming at my neck, like something more important than blood had been taken from me.

“To Evermore,” Hugo instructed as the car moved forward. I jolted forward as the car lurched to a stop, the cab driver spinning round in his seat.

“We don’t go there.”

“Five-hundred pound tip.” Hugo flipped open his wallet, passing forward five crisp notes. “Drop us at the end of the road. Now, drive.”

My muscles, still trembling from adrenaline, relaxed as Hugo’s warmth settled over my shoulders. I breathed in the butterscotch scent of his leather jacket. For the first time in hours, I felt my pulse slow.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I still felt the touch of Dorian on my skin. My mind had a habit of erasing unpleasant things, but this one lingered.

Twelve hours, and Evermore had already taken something from me. I didn’t know exactly what it was, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get it back.