Attracted to him.

Later that night, Lucian hadn't gone out of his room when came back from the battle field.

He looked into some documents, his school work and just anything that could distract him from thinking about the things he didn't want to think about, and some emotions that he didn't understand why he was having them anyway.

But suddenly his door flied open, at that moment Aiden entered the room without knocking, Lucian already knew he was in for another headache.

He always did this, barging in like he owned the place. Never waiting, never asking, just taking up space in Lucian's world like he belonged there.

Lucian sat at his desk, pretending to focus on the open book before him, but the words swam together, unreadable. His mind was restless. His body even more so.

Ever since the fight, something had been eating at him.

It had started the moment Aiden had stood on that battlefield, taking hit after hit, yet refusing to back down.

The moment he had moved, so quick, so seamless, so... breathtaking.

Lucian had never known frustration like this.

And now, here Aiden was, landing face-first into his bed as if it were his own.

"I've never met a hard-headed person like you," Aiden huffed against the sheets, his voice muffled but playful. "How could you just walk away when everyone was like, 'Wow, Aiden, you're such a superstar'?"

Lucian didn't turn.

"'Wow, Aiden, you're such a superstar,'" he said flatly. "There. I said it. Now get the hell out of my bed. And definitely my room."

He stood abruptly, already planning to shove Aiden off the bed if he had to, but the moment he turned, he froze.

Aiden's eyes were closed.

Lucian blinked. "Are you kidding me?! You really think I buy that?! That you've just fallen asleep in a second?!"

Aiden didn't react, and he looked honestly asleep.

For a second, Lucian's frustration wavered... his eyes lingering on Aiden, how peaceful he looked.

He hadn't noticed how utterly drained Aiden was, not just physically, but completely.

Even in sleep, his brows furrowed slightly, as if he was still carrying the weight of something invisible.

Aiden was actually drained, he hadn't slept last night because of how he was feeling, and adding the tiredness of the competition, and the pain from the fight.

So the moment he landed on that soft bed, sleep carried him without even a second thought.

Lucian sighed, stepping forward, intending to shake him awake and send him off but his eyes betrayed him.

They lingered.

On the curve of Aiden's cheekbones, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. On the dark lashes fanning across his skin, too long, too soft for someone so infuriating.

His gaze flickered across Aiden's face, as if he was just realizing how pretty it actually was. Then lower went his eyes. To his lips.

Lucian swallowed hard.

Aiden's breathing was steady, rhythmic, and it filled the room, reaching Lucian's ears like a whisper against his skin.

His lips were slightly parted, the soft pink hue catching the dim light of the room.

Lucian felt something deep in his gut twist, curl, burn.

His pulse thudded heavily, every beat drumming against his skull, against his ribs.

Why the hell was he staring?

His fingers twitched. His whole body itched with an urge he didn't understand- one he refused to name.

No. This wasn't normal. He thought.

He clenched his jaw, forcing his gaze away, forcing himself to breathe. But then Aiden shifted.

The hem of his T-shirt lifted slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of smooth, pale skin at his waist.

Lucian's lungs locked.

The heat in his chest flared, suffocating, unbearable. His body reacted before his mind could catch up.

Every inch of him tensed, his fingers itching, aching to reach out. To touch. To trace his fingertips over the exposed skin and see if it was really as soft as it looked.

What the hell was wrong with him?

His mind rebelled against itself, fighting to rationalize the absurdity of this moment.

If Aiden were a girl, maybe this reaction would make sense. Maybe he could understand it then.

But he wasn't. He was Aiden.

Lucian snapped out of it violently, stepping back as if burned, his heart hammering.

His body was on fire, but not in a way he could control. Not in a way that made sense.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out and shoved Aiden's shoulder.

"Get the hell out of my room."

Aiden groaned in protest, barely registering the push, still half-asleep.

"Mmm... Jackssss, leave me alone," he muttered drowsily, shifting onto his side. "I'm not going to that hellhound's training…"

Lucian stared unbelievably.

He couldn't believe the words Aiden had just mumbled in his sleep. Hellhound?! Is that what he sees him as.

His throat tightened.

But before he could even process that, Aiden moved again- shifting, stretching, and his damn T-shirt lifted higher.

Lucian sucked in a breath.

His head buzzed with something dangerously close to panic. His skin prickled with heat, his muscles coiled like he was ready to spring into a fight, except this wasn't a battle he knew how to win.

He couldn't stay here. Couldn't keep looking.

Without thinking, without grabbing a jacket, without a second thought, he stormed out.

The cold night air slammed against him as he stepped outside, but it did nothing.

Nothing to douse the wildfire spreading inside him.

His breathing was ragged, uneven, his pulse a beast clawing at his ribcage.

The frustration, the confusion, the sheer unfairness of it all boiled under his skin, ready to burst.

He needed an outlet.

His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and the moment it was off, he let the wind hit his burning skin. Still, it wasn't enough.

He kicked off his shoes, unfastened his belt, shed everything that felt too constricting.

He then shifted.

The second his wolf form took over, he took off at a dead sprint. Through the trees. Into the forest. Away.

His paws pounded against the earth, but no matter how fast he ran, Aiden's face stayed burned into the back of his mind.

The shape of his lips. The rise and fall of his breathing. The way his body had reacted without permission. The soft skin- was it actually as soft as it looked? Should he go back and touch? Just to confirm- no other reason to touch.

Run.

The voice in his head was primal, desperate.

Lucian ran harder.

He chased the wind, the shadows, anything to drown out the thoughts screaming inside his skull.

The hunger in his chest turned to something else, a hunt.

His instincts took over, and before he knew it, he lunged at prey, tearing through the flesh of a deer with savage force.

It wasn't about hunger.

It was about control.

About proving to himself that his body still belonged to him, that he wasn't losing control over something as ridiculous as Aiden sleeping in his bed.

But the moment he stepped back, his muzzle stained with blood, his breathing heavy, he realized...

It hadn't worked.

The memory of Aiden was still there.