Then—the redhead's nostrils flared violently, like a predator catching the scent of fresh blood on a winter wind.
His head snapped toward Blazar with unnatural speed, muscles coiling beneath his skin like a viper preparing to strike.
The redhead's visible eye - a disconcerting maroon with flecks of copper that caught the light wrong, almost pulsing with inner fire - scanned Blazar methodically, dissecting her with a gaze that seemed to penetrate flesh and bone.
Blazar's fingers curled into the cot, knuckles whitening as the cheap fabric bunched beneath her grip. A cold dread slithered down her spine, primal and undeniable.
Theo stepped aside, watching—waiting—as the redhead closed the distance, his expression a careful mask of clinical detachment that didn't quite reach his calculating eyes.
He sauntered over, boots clicking like a countdown against the sterile tile floor, each step deliberate and predatory. Up close, he smelled like candied oranges and gunpowder—sweet, but with the promise of explosion, the sickening combination making Blazar's stomach twist with both attraction and revulsion.
"Well, hello," he purred, voice like velvet dragged across broken glass.
His face hovered inches from hers, invading her space with deliberate arrogance. His eyes were a hypnotic swirl of maroon and crimson, deep enough to drown in, with pupils that seemed to pulse and dilate as they locked onto her bleeding wound.
Before she could react, his tongue—hot, wet, obscene—licked a stripe up her bleeding cheek with hungry precision, leaving a burning trail in its wake.
Her blood screamed.
Not metaphorically. Literally. A dizzying rush, a pull deep in her veins, like her body was trying to climb out of her skin and into his mouth.
The sensation traveled down her spine like live voltage, crackling through every nerve ending, pooling low in her abdomen with dangerous warmth that made her toes curl inside her boots.
Shame and fury warred—why did that feel good?—before instinct won, raw and unforgiving.
CRACK.
Her palm connected with his cheek, the sound echoing like a gunshot, cracking through the infirmary with satisfying violence. The sting of impact vibrated up her arm, a small price for reclaiming her dignity.
His head snapped to the side, copper hair whipping across his face like flames dancing in a gale.
Silence.
The room froze, tension crystallizing the air like suspended glass about to shatter.
Vyne's jaw dropped, eyes widening in horrified disbelief. Theo's fingers tightened around a scalpel, the metal gleaming ominously under the harsh infirmary lights.
Slowly, deliberately, Vesper straightened to his full height, the red mark on his cheek already fading as though her fury meant nothing. His visible eye gleamed with something far more disturbing than anger—amusement, interest, hunger.
Blazar's finger jabbed toward him, trembling with barely contained rage. "You filthy creep—"
He turned back, grinning like she'd just made his day, his fingertips brushing where she slapped, almost caressing the fading mark. "New student, huh?" The words dripped with dark fascination.
Blazar bared her teeth, lips pulled back in a feral snarl. "Touch me again and I'll remove that pretty tongue." Each syllable was a blade, sharp and precise.
His laugh was dark velvet, wrapping around the room with suffocating intimacy. "I'd like to see you try." Challenge danced in his eyes, along with something darker, hungrier.
Theo moved before Blazar could react—his fingers, clinical and precise, pressed a wad of cotton wool to her cheek. A sharp sting, then a cool rush as the wound sealed itself shut, flesh knitting together like it had never been torn, leaving only phantom pain and the memory of violation.
Magic. Smooth and immediate.
"There," Theo said, stepping back. "Good as new." His voice was calm, but his eyes—dark, assessing—lingered on her with uncomfortable intensity. "Now let's check your abdomen. Or your chest. Anywhere else you might be injured there too." His hands hovered, professional yet somehow invasive.
Blazar's hand slammed over the front of her shirt before his fingers could graze the first button, the impact making a dull thud against her sternum. "Let go," she hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm fine. There's nothing to see." Panic clawed at her throat, threatening to suffocate her.
Theo's grip tightened—just for a fraction of a second—before she slapped his hand away, the sound sharp in the sterile air, like a twig snapping in a silent forest.
A beat.
Theo's glare was ice, freezing and unforgiving. "Small wounds can kill just as easily as big ones. Especially when ignored." Threat lurked beneath the concern, barely concealed.
Blazar didn't blink, meeting his stare with defiant heat. "I said I'm fine." She stood abruptly, shoving past him, shoulder connecting with his chest hard enough to make him step back.
"C'mon," Vesper crooned, leaning against the wall with that infuriating, ever-present smile curling his lips. "We're all men here. Nothing to hide." A pause, heavy with implication. "Or is there?"
Shit.
Blazar froze. Her pulse hammered, blood roaring in her ears like a distant ocean. Think. Think. Cold sweat beaded on her back, trickling down her spine with icy precision.
"Or are you," Theo murmured, tilting his head with clinical curiosity, "an illegal species?" His words hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
Her throat closed, desert-dry. "I—I'm not—" Words failed her, panic rising like floodwater.
"We all have scars we don't want others to see."
Vyne's voice, low and quiet, cut through the tension like a lifeline thrown to a drowning sailor.
Yes. Exactly. Man, is this guy a life saver! Relief crashed through her like a tidal wave.
Blazar seized the excuse, snapping her fingers with desperate enthusiasm. "Right. Scars. That's all." The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.
Not entirely a lie.
On her back, hidden beneath fabric, the slave brand still burned in memory—a crude, slave mark was seared into her skin with white-hot iron, the flesh permanently warped into a symbol of ownership. The pain had faded, but the shame? That stuck like a second layer of flesh, invisible but always present, always raw.
Vesper's smile didn't waver, predatory and knowing. "Funny," he mused, voice dripping with honeyed suspicion. "You don't strike me as the shy type." His gaze raked over her, seeking weaknesses, secrets.
Blazar bared her teeth, aggression masking terror. "And you don't strike me as the type to keep his tongue if he keeps talking." Her fingers itched for a weapon, for something to defend herself with in this clinical battlefield.
Theo exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. Vyne coughed—was that a laugh?—his shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed amusement.
And Vesper?
He just grinned wider, teeth gleaming like a wolf's in moonlight.
Vyne cleared his throat, shoulders squared with forced casualness. "She's cleared, right? No broken ribs, no internal bleeding. Let's just—" Desperation thinned his voice as he attempted to navigate them to safer shores.
"No." Theo's gaze locked onto Blazar, merciless and probing. "You're hiding an injury. Or something worse." He reached for a silver scope hanging on the wall—a diagnostic tool etched with glowing runes that made Blazar's skin prickle with ancient warning. "This will show me what you won't." The runes pulsed ominously, reflecting in his determined eyes.