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T he imposing wrought iron gates loom before me, casting ominous shadows across the cobblestone path. Even the birds seem to fall silent as I step through, the gates groaning in protest. My ratty boots scuff against the impeccably maintained grounds, each step punctuating the silence.

Ashtiroch Academy. How the bloody hell I managed to snag a scholarship to this sanctuary for the elite is beyond me. I can still remember getting the letter in the mail, despite having never applied. Part of me thought it was some sick joke at first, somebody having a laugh at my expense because there’s no way in hell I could afford to go here on my own.

I’m not the type of person that would ever come across the radar of such a prestigious university. Oxford, Cambridge, the Imperial College. They wouldn’t even bother using my application as kindling for their hearths, let alone allow some guttersnipe from the back alleys of London amidst their hallowed halls.

So why am I here? Well, simple truths: I have nowhere else to go. This is the end of the line for me. My last ditch effort to gain an education I can be proud of and maybe—just maybe–have something to call mine. A little flat in London, with an average job. Comfortable.

Off to one side, a cluster of students linger near the entrance, clad in crisp uniforms and murmuring amongst themselves. Even from this distance, I can smell their expensive perfumes and colognes. Their sneers and giggles at the sight of me leave zero doubt about my outcast status here.

Whatever. I’ve dealt with worse judgement from more intimidating twats than this pack of privileged beaus and debutantes.

With a toss of my unruly blonde curls, I straighten my posture and march forward, refusing to be deterred. The cracked soles of my boots click against the granite steps leading to the ornately sculpted door handle, its coiling serpent design seeming to come alive beneath my fingertips.

This is it. The first step toward a life I clawed out of the gutter for by my own blood, sweat and sacrifice. Once I push open this door, the world as I know it changes forever.

The shadowy foyer swallows me whole, the vaulted ceilings stretching impossibly high above. Flickering candelabras cast an eerie dance of light and shadow across the carved walls. Despite the mild early autumn temperatures outside, an unnatural chill prickles my flesh with each inhale of the dank, stale air.

Footsteps echo nearby, shattering the hush. A figure materialises from the shadows of an adjacent hallway, the medium build of his frame practically stitched into an impeccably tailored suit as black as a moonless night. Tall and lean, with sharp aristocratic features partly obscured by dishevelled raven hair. There’s a predatory grace to his movements that screams lethal potential.

“Welcome.” His velvet voice washes over me, smooth yet dripping with a darker undercurrent. “You must be West, one of the Academy’s newest… acquisitions.”

The sensual purr curling around my name sends a shiver down my spine. Everything about this stranger radiates an almost preternatural intensity that roots me to the spot, breath stalling in my lungs.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I say, cringing at how small my voice sounds. Swallowing hard, I force some nonchalance into my tone. “And you are…?”

“Arius Whitlocke.” He glides forward until the candlelight flickers across his chiselled features. Striking doesn’t begin to describe him—all razor angles carved from sin and temptation itself. The shadows dance across the hollows, drawing my gaze down. I drink in the sharp edge of his jaw, the length of his throat.

The inky whorls etched into his skin along the bronzed column seem to play with the light as his throat creates those insidious syllables, an eyeball with a disconcerting gaze peering back at me over the jut of his Adam’s apple. But it isn’t that eye that arrests my attention. Pulling my gaze back up, I feel my heart stutter in my chest as I meet twin pools of liquid mercury that could drown a person without resistance.

Holy hell.

“I’ve been tasked with overseeing your initiation.” His lips curve into a smile that sends goosebumps along my arms. “I must admit, you’re not quite what I was expecting.”

Something in his tone suggests I fall short. Irritation chases away the first tendrils of magnetism. I open my mouth to retort, but Arius surges closer in a few strides and—Christ, that scent.

It slams into me, the spicy musk of nutmeg and vetiver mingling with cedarwood and crisp autumn air. There’s no way that’s a cologne. It has to be pure male essence. Wildly untamed and richly carnal.

Trying to dispel the sudden wave of instinctual attraction, my lip curls in a derisive scowl. I’ve spent the past year fighting, scraping together enough to buy the flight ticket to even get to Germany, and I’m not about to let this privileged wanker make me feel like that isn’t an accomplishment.

“Yeah? Expecting your usual blonde with legs for days and only two brain cells to rub together?” Years of frustration sharpen my words, the piled on bricks of constantly being told I would never make my way out of that hell. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m damn proud of making it here at all.”

Arius snorts. “Proud? That fiery attitude will be the first thing beaten out of you. It wasn’t your academic prowess that got you here.”

His eyes glitter with a challenge, instantly prickling my hackles. Before I can respond, he turns on his heel. “We’ll be covering the full grounds. Do try to keep up.” With that, he strides away, his steps devouring the polished marble.

That bloody wanker...

By the time I spur into action, he’s reached the opposite end of the foyer. I scurry after him, desperate not to lose his form amongst the shadows.

He pauses at what appears to be a grand ossuary, the domed ceiling stretching high above. Rows of alcoves line the curving walls, each carved with names and… are those human skulls leering back at me? My stomach swoops, dropping out of my abdomen straight to my feet.

“Built in the 12th century,” Arius intones, “this memorial contains the remains of every headmaster, professor, and student who has given their life in service to Ashtiroch.”

“I see,” I say, clearing my throat. “Quite a high mortality rate then?”

The ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Ashtiroch does not coddle weakness. Only the elite take their place in our legacy. Shall we move on?”

He doesn’t wait for my reply, sweeping away with that lazy stride. Must be a signature of his, as if he doesn’t come off pretentious enough. I hurry to keep up, not about to get left behind in this bone orchard.

“Those doors down the hall will take you to the main quadrangle and dorms are through here.” Arius gestures as we emerge into a sunlit courtyard surrounded by towering, carved facades. “The original buildings, like the Main Hall, were erected in 57 AD, predating most in this city. You’ll find a lot of Roman flair to the archways and various courtyards. Though I’m sure the architecture is more refined than anything you’re used to.”

His strides are unhurried as he continues, not really giving me the chance to respond, “The dorms are adequate enough, if slightly pedestrian. You’ll find that several students have separate housing, but it’s best not to snoop for more lavish trappings.”

“Easy for you to take the piss about shite like that, mate. You’re hardly a charity case like me.” The words tumble out in a heated rush.

To my surprise, Arius merely slants me an inscrutable look. “Don’t underestimate the sacrifices made to earn a place here, Miss West. Every one of us has borne a heavier burden than you could fathom.”

Rather than cowing me, it stokes the embers of defiance in my gut. “Save the sob story. You don’t know the first thing about what I’ve been through.”

His only response is an infuriatingly unruffled arch of a brow as we lapse into uneasy silence. The courtyard is dotted with students in crisp uniforms, none sharing my desperation to seize this chance before it disintegrates to ashes.

An errant sunbeam slanting through the arch above glances off Arius’ cheekbone, casting his profile in stark relief. I shouldn’t be so arrested by the visual… yet something about those sharp angles fans a flicker of morbid attraction. The faintest thrill of rebellion at the notion of provoking those untouchable barriers to melt.

What would it take to bring a man like him to his knees?

The silence stretches until Arius finally speaks, his smoky rasp washing over me like a caress. “Tell me, dura?ka, what exactly do you think you’ll find within these walls?” His eyes narrow to twin shards of onyx, holding an unmistakable challenge. “Glory, status, respect? Or merely the trappings of the privilege you so clearly disdain?”

My chin notches up at the snide insinuation. “You don’t have a clue what I—”

“No?” Arius cuts me off, looming into my space with an unnerving intensity, close enough for his warm breath to ghost along my jaw. His intoxicating scent of spice and autumn wood swaddles me.

Christ, I shouldn’t be so thrilled by this arsehole’s nearness.

His teeth skim his plush lower lip, gaze searing through my clothes. Every nerve screams with hyper-awareness. I can’t tear my stare from the beguiling hollows and feral angles of his striking face.

“I’d wager you yearn for the same as any lost soul here, .” His bedroom rasp sends a quiver through my core as he leans closer, lips brushing my ear. “You crave belonging to something greater… being forged into something uniquely powerful… even if it means staring into the abyss of your darkest secrets and sins. Isn’t that right?”

With our sparse distance, I tilt my chin up to maintain eye contact in my periphery, drinking in his beauty. High cheekbones that could slice diamond. The jut of his cleft chin. Sensual lips curved in an arrogant yet intriguing smirk.

Focus, . Don’t let him get under your skin.

Mustering my composure, I step back. “If this orientation is just you finding ways to be a condescending prick, I’m better off on my own, yeah?”

Arius straightens to his full height, gaze roaming over me with appraisal. The smouldering weight of it is like a caress, flooding my veins with blistering heat despite the autumn breeze. Discomforting yet thrilling.

“You certainly have a set of balls, don’t you?” The words bleed from his lips in a silken growl. “I’m beginning to understand why they overlooked your… pedigree deficiencies.”

My jaw clenches as I draw a breath through flaring nostrils. He’s goading me for his twisted amusement. I won’t play along.

“Cut the shite, Whitlocke. We’ve got a campus to cover if you plan on finishing this tour before graduation.” With that, I spin on my heel and stomp off.

Not even five paces later, his mocking drawl sounds from behind me. “You’re welcome to try finding your dorm unassisted, pet. Though I wouldn’t suggest venturing unprepared into certain… territories. Wouldn’t want you stumbling into misadventures on your very first day.”

I pause to glare at his towering form sliding into place beside me. Scowling to conceal the unease gnawing at my gut. Arius’ vague implications about hidden dangers resonate with a menace I can’t shake. This whole place, despite its peaceful atmosphere, makes my skin crawl.

With a groan, I worry my lip before shaking my head. “Fine. Just get on with it. No more cryptic whispers like a brooding B-movie villain.”

As the words leave my mouth, Arius’ features seem to shift. A muscle twitches along his jaw as his lips purse into a thin slash. The heated intensity in his gaze hollows out, replaced by glacial emptiness more unsettling than any threat.

I nearly backpedal, an icy splinter of disquiet lancing beneath my breast. I must be imagining it. Glimpsing the true predator behind the aristocratic mask for an instant. But something primal in me takes notice, every instinct thrumming with high alert.

Just as quickly, the ice shatters with a slow blink. Embers of wry heat dance in his eyes once more as he favours me with an almost genuine half-smile.

“You’re right,” his velvet rasp wraps around each syllable like melted sin. “I apologize Ms. West. That was uncouth of me. Allow me to resume your orientation properly.”

I barely quirk a confused brow before Arius sweeps ahead in that leonine prowl, hands tucked in his pockets. Grumbling, I hustle to match his long strides as he gestures around the opulent courtyard.

“To the casual eye, Ashtiroch appears a bastion for entitled wealth,” he drawls. “Those born into legacies often spend lives ensconced in privilege…” Arius pauses by an ornate fountain, his piercing stare finding me, “never appreciating the burdens endured or depravities embraced by those around them that allow such affluence to persist.”

Foreboding dances up my spine at his vaguely sinister inflections. Has he figured out the shite I was mixed up in back home? Or is this typical posturing from a trust fund edgelord? I don’t know much about these people, or this Academy, if I’m being honest with myself. But there’s no way they would know anything about my personal life… right?

Deflecting, I shrug with forced nonchalance. “Listen, this is riveting and all, Professor Creepypasta, but can we move on to where I’m meant to bunk while resisting the urge to gag on old money?”

Surprise flickers across Arius’ features. Then he throws back his head with a bark of ravenous laughter, lips peeling back to unveil canines like a feral beast. The reverberations shudder through my bones with an unnatural power, saturating my veins and pooling with an ache low in my belly.

Bloody hell, I need to get a grip before this man utterly upends every coherent thought I have left.

Cold dread seizes my gut as his laughter echoes, growing colder as something deeper underpins the timbre. The visceral response is purely instinct, my flight indicator setting off a strobe light of warnings. His laughter is wild and unrestrained in a way that should have me turning around and running for the hills. Yet I stay rooted as though bound by an arcane spell, caught in the thrall of his amusement—an apex predator in human form lost in sensual delight.

An unfamiliar ache blossoms hot and heavy between my legs, pussy clenching with a throb that leaves me lightheaded. I’m not a stranger to base attraction, but this... this is different on an entirely new level of reaction.

Christ, what’s wrong with me?

Any sane person would be terrified of this man and the unknown menaces he represents. Not quivering with reckless need. The two warring fronts collide like fireworks in my hindbrain, confusing and disorienting in a way that makes me unsure of which one to latch onto.

Do I flee? Or do I allow myself to be drawn in by this innate magnetism that he seems to possess? And what happens if I do?

Arius’ chuckles trail off before his gaze lasers to me, quicksilver depths dancing with a heat that sets my nerves ablaze all over again. Something carnal simmers there, making it that much harder to ignore the ever-slowly tightening knot in my core.

“All right, have it your way,” he rumbles in that delicious rasp. “I’ll take you through to the women’s hall. Dismiss the rest of this tour—utter tripe and pageantry anyway.”

Even now, with his arrogance firmly in place, something unnerving roils beneath the surface. As if there’s a caged beast prowling underneath his skin, patiently awaiting the slightest provocation to unleash lethal fury. Only a fool would dismiss his menace as mere intimidation.

So why can’t I shake this wildly inappropriate, bone-deep craving thrumming through me at his nearness?

“Give it a rest with the wankery, mate.” The defiant words rasp out before I can reconsider. My chin notches up, stare sparking with a confidence I don’t feel. “Just lead on, or I’ll take my fucking chances with stumbling blind and following the shitty map.”

Arius arches a brow as another wicked smirk curves his lips. He opens his mouth, no doubt to deliver a scorching rejoinder, when heavy footfalls cut the tension like a blade.

Three figures slide into view from a breezeway, each possessing a coiled, leonine grace befitting skilled hunters. Their footsteps are damn near synchronised as they walk, uniform slacks doing little to hide the inherited power in their gait that comes from too much money. And judging by the heated undercurrents dancing between them, they’re more than acquaintances.

One—tall with tumbling honey blonde locks—steps into Arius’ space. A finger trails along his jaw, sinuous as a serpent. Then his tongue slicks an obscene path across Arius’ cheekbone, lingering to savour the taste.

The throaty growl that rumbles from Arius sears my veins with an intensity I’m not prepared for. I can’t tear my gaze from his flaring nostrils or clenching jaw. For a split second, his eyes seem to hollow into cold shards of pewter, devoid of humanity and growing pale. Just as abruptly, the flinty mask fractures to reveal naked arousal simmering in half-lidded eyes. Yet, Arius shrugs with deliberate negligence.

“And here I thought dogs had poor judgement in what belongs on their tongues,” he quips in a guttural rasp as he wipes the saliva away, the corner of his lips curving upwards. “Be a good bitch and scurry back to your kennel before I have you neutered.”

The blonde tosses his head back with a raucous peal of laughter that mocks decorum. He leans closer, near enough for me to just make out the kaleidoscope of jade and gold flecking his eyes. “C’mon, Arius…” His tongue darts out to lave his lips, gaze riveted on me as he continues to taunt. “Pretty sure that’s not what you crooned after letting me tongue your cock last—”

“Caldwell.” The whipcrack intensity behind the warning withers the blonde’s rakish grin. Straightening his posture, the man’s stare flicks sideways before settling on Arius with an insolent twitch of his mouth.

The simmer dissipates as a second man—a bulkier build with vivid auburn curls—steps forward, polished Oxfords whispering across the concrete despite his size. He grins at me, sable eyes warm, before trailing a hand along the blonde’s back in camaraderie.

“Give it a rest before you give yourself a coronary, Glitterballs,” he chuckles richly. Turning to me, his genial smile brims with genuine warmth as he extends a palm. “Don’t mind Jace, he never learned social graces. Hayes Lockewood, at your service. Pleased to meet you…?”

My gaze flits between them, unsure how to unravel the subtexts interwoven through every barb and heated look. I open my mouth to force civility when a sardonic snort abruptly cuts the stillness.

“Fucking Christ, not this pandering softshoe again. Last year was banal enough.”

The smoky baritone, rich as the finest whisky, drifts from the periphery. Eyes swivel to the darkly striking figure slouched against shadowed brickwork. He lounges with studied indolence, bootheel propped on the wall as he thumbs over a mobile screen.

“Put the girl out of her misery and be upfront. You’re sizing her up, pondering which of your cocks gets to punish those tragically underused holes.” The crudity hangs heavy.

My jaw drops on an outraged gasp as the others whirl on their friend in pique. Hayes rakes a hand through his curls with an eye-roll. “Christ, Rhys, show some decorum. Don’t let your raging misanthropy sour another interaction before it begins.”

A beat of silence passes before Rhys arches one dark, refined brow and resumes scrolling without glancing up. “Oh, was I meant to play sycophant like you salivating arselickers?”

My cheeks burn as my fists clench, knuckles cracking from the pressure. Who the hell does this wanker think he is? What right does he have to strip me of any dignity before even introducing himself?

“Listen up, you insufferable twat,” I grate out, seething vitriol dripping from every word. All eyes swivel my way, wide and startled. Emboldened by the adrenaline surging through me, I stalk forward until I’m looming into Rhys’ slouched form.

He finally deigns to lift his molten gaze, revealing a face of mercurial angles and slashing cheekbones carved from marble. Sharp and arresting, with full lips twisted in perpetual disdain. But his eyes give me pause—chips of liquid emerald gleaming with a searing, almost bird-like intelligence.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are, mate. But if your tragic aim is to compensate for your pathetic micro-dick with toxic misogyny, you’re doing yourself proud so far.” The edges of that cruel, beautiful mouth quiver slightly at my vicious scorn—I’ve gotten under his razors-edge poise and into his hide.

And hell if it doesn’t stoke something molten deep in my marrow.

Heedless of the others flanking me in slack-jawed astonishment, I deliberately lift my boot and grind it down on Rhys’ toe. The slow build of pressure fractures his expression into outright hatred as he tries and fails to stifle a pained inhale.

My lips peel back in a feral sneer of triumph as I lean in to hiss directly into his stricken face. “Lucky for you, you’d score high on the depraved slag scale. Just focus on keeping that cock- holster shut and your panties at the ready in case some poor, desperate sod is drunk enough to give your sad worm a go.”

My heart hammers against my ribs as I give his toe a final grind before sweeping back to the others. Arius fails to hide the undisguised relish lighting his gaze. The other two look varying degrees of appalled and stunned into silence.

Fine by me. If this pack of entitled, over-privileged pricks thinks they can strip away the last of my dignity through sneers and posturing, they’d best brace for a thorough reaming.

The game’s only just begun, boys.