Lana’s pov:

The first bell at Velgrave Royal Academy rings, startling me enough to make me jump despite the chaos of my morning. My bag hangs heavy on one shoulder, full of notebooks, textbooks, and the invisible weight of knowing that somewhere, in the shadowed corners of, he is already watching. 

I can feel it even before I reach the gates. The pressure in the air that always makes his presence known.

Aiden Reeve, standing by the lockers like he owned the floor. His hair was deliberately messy, a dark halo around the sharp angles of his face. His suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing strong, veiny forearms. His cold eyes found mine, glinting with something dangerous. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” He stalks over to me, deliberately backing me up against my locker. 

I roll my eyes. “What now, Aiden?” 

He eyes me up and down. “You look tired.”

“And?” 

“And I don’t like it. Did you not sleep?” He questions. 

“Like you care.” I scoff. 

I’m not in the mood to deal with his shit today. Let’s be real, I never am. But I woke up in a bitchy mood, and I have a bad feeling that I will get my period today. 

“Defiant today? Keep it up in chemistry, sweetheart.” He says smoothly. “I’ll be waiting.” 

As he leaves, I get a whiff of his cologne, something I have become strangely familiar with. Just as I was about to walk to my friends waiting for me at the end of the hallway, Parker appeared in front of me like the sun. 

“Hi! I like your hair today!” He says, a little too brightly for a Tuesday morning. I force a smile, I’m wearing my hair down today, the soft waves going down my back, touching my waist. 

“Thank you,” I pause, then try to talk to him about yesterday. “Parker… about yesterday, I’m sorry. I really am. I hate him too, if that makes you feel better.” 

“It’s okay, it isn’t your fault, Lana.” He leans in for a hug. 

I stiffen slightly, but hug him back. I pull back quickly, not because I’m scared that Aiden will get mad at me, but because I’m protecting him. Parker is a good kid, sometimes annoying, but still bright, he doesn’t deserve it. 

“I’ll see you later?” I smile, watching his face lighten up even more.

“Ofcourse!” He waves and leaves, and I sigh heavily, watching Evelyn laugh at the situation. I start walking faster, not wanting to run into anybody else. 

I’m almost there when someone bumps into me, splashing their coffee all over my white shirt. Everyone is testing my patience today. I breathe in, not wanting to yell. As I turn to look who ruined my shirt, my mood spoils further. 

It’s Easton Baxter, one of Aiden’s buddies, one of the four ‘Royals’, and also Evelyn’s worst enemy. He looks panicked, for himself mostly. “Oh, fuck. I’m sorry! Please don’t tell Aiden, his protective ass will make me do extra laps.” He groans.

Before I can say anything, Evelyn jumps in. “You narcissist asshole! Lana, you should definitely tell Aiden. He deserves it, and on a white shirt too? Criminal.” She overexaggerates. 

I look down at my shirt, my plain pink bra is visible over the wet and now transparent shirt. I curse. I normally wear a black or white one, but of course it had to be today when I chose to wear a colourful one.

Easton rolls his eyes at Evelyn, and looks down when he talks to me. I didn’t expect that. He’s being respectful, even Evelyn looks surprised. “Do you have a spare shirt? I can get you one—” 

“It’s fine,” I pause, then add. “And I won’t tell him.” Evelyn looks at me like I’ve committed a crime.

Easton flashes me a charming smile and looks at Evelyn. “You’re coming with me.” He simply states. 

Evelyn raises an eyebrow. “No?” 

Easton grabs her hand anyway. “It’s important.” He says, walking away with her. She just seems annoyed. 

I sigh again. I don’t have a spare shirt, and Easton dragged Evelyn with him. Jude and Stella are already in class. This day can not get any worse. My cheeks heat in embarrassment when I notice some people looking. I cross my arms against my chest, trying to hide however much I can. I didn’t want to talk to Aiden about something this stupid, or at all for that matter. 

I have to go to the chemistry lab this way, I need to hand in my assignment today. Fuck, this is weird. I enter and all eyes turn to me, I force a smile. 

I scan the room. Parker isn’t here yet. Aiden is already seated, leaning casually against the counter near the demonstration table. He looks at me, his eyes a storm I want to run away from. His jaw is clenched and face angry, dangerous.

I hesitantly go to the table too, choosing the furthest seat from him, which is still close.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He says, barely holding back his anger.

I’m genuinely confused right now. He gets mad when I don’t show up or when someone else is my partner. Now, when I’m present and with him, he’s still mad? “What?” I ask.

He doesn’t reply. He gets up instead, grabbing my arm roughly and dragging me outside the lab. I hear Professor Hale try to stop him, but he’s not listening. 

“Aiden, what are you doing? I can’t walk that fa—” I stop when he releases me into the hallway outside the chemistry lab, backing me towards the wall. Thankfully, it’s still classtime, so the hallway is empty. 

“What the fuck were you thinking? Entering class like this? You’re practically wearing nothing!” He points at my cleavage. 

I look down at my shirt, it’s even more transparent now, and my bra doesn’t cover up anything. I don’t say anything, crossing my arms against my chest again. 

“Don’t hide those gorgeous tits from me.” He says, still angry. He’s so bipolar. 

I blush at his crude words, my arms still crossed over my chest. He comes closer, my back hitting the wall as he runs his hand up my sides, feeling my breast. “W-what are you doing?” I stutter without meaning to, the feeling of his big hands against my breast alone is overwhelming. 

His thumb brushes my nipple over my bra, and I almost whimper. “So sensitive,” I hear him mumble. 

“Stop, Aiden… we have class.” I say in a shaky breath. 

He curses, taking his uniform coat off and putting it over me. “Don’t take it off, Lana, or you’ll get spanked for being a bad girl.” He says. For a second I think it’s a joke, but his face is too serious. 

“Fuck—” I don’t finish my sentence, feeling wet down there. I freeze. So this day could get worse. I run without saying anything, not looking back. I go straight to the girl’s bathroom and lock myself in a stall. I hear his footsteps following behind. 

I was right. My period is very unwelcomely here. Thankfully, my pants are fine, but my panties… are stained. Fuck. It makes sense though. I woke up in a bad mood, having mood swings, my breasts were extra tender and I was cramping slightly.

“Why the fuck did you run?!” I hear Aiden’s annoyed voice.

“This is the girl’s bathroom! Anyone could come in,” I say, slightly panicked. 

“The door is locked. Now, care to tell me? Or do you want me to break down the door?” He says, impatient, and if I’m not dreaming, his voice is worried.  

“I, uh, got my period…” I say hesitantly. 

“Oh.” He pauses. “Do you need anything?” He asks.

I bite my lower lip. I don’t have anyone else I can ask right now, ugh, here we go. “I need, um, clean panties and a pad. Get the thick ones with wings.” I say. God, this is embarrassing. 

“I’ll take care of it. Give me ten minutes, baby.” He says, and I hear the door closing. 

I sit there in the stall, my head in my hands, trying to steady my breathing. My heart is still racing from the way he dragged me out of class, and from the way he looked at me like I was both a problem and something he couldn’t walk away from. The walls feel cold against my back, grounding me.

It’s humiliating enough to be sitting here like this, but knowing that he is the one helping me makes it worse. Or maybe not worse, just confusing. I don’t know what it is about him that always scrambles my thoughts, like logic doesn’t exist when he’s around.

I press my palm against my chest, trying to calm the erratic beat of my heart. Outside, I can hear faint footsteps echoing down the hall. I tell myself he won’t come back, or that he probably handed the task off to some unfortunate assistant or sent one of his drivers. 

But deep down, I know he’ll come back himself. Aiden Reeve doesn’t delegate when it comes to me, it’s a curse and a blessing all at once. Being protected by him means no one dares to even look at me, let alone hurt me in any way, but it also means that they’re all automatically scared of me. 

I wait in the stall until I hear the bathroom door click, and my stomach tightens, even though I know it’s him. I tell myself to calm down, to act normal, but the way my heart leaps into my throat betrays me.

“Here,” a deep voice says, and a plastic bag slides under the stall door. 

I peek down cautiously. I’m shocked by what I see; there’s a pack of tampons, a pack of pads, along with a small folded bundle of panties. He got me a set of three panties? I look in it to see some of my favourite snacks, chocolate, and a bottle of water. 

My face heats immediately, not from embarrassment, exactly, but because the effort, the attention, the control he puts in even the smallest gestures is overwhelming.

“Thanks,” I mutter, my voice quieter than I intended. 

“Don’t thank me like I did you a favour,” His tone is sharp but calm, letting me know he’s still angry. 

I swallow hard, not knowing what to say. I quickly clean myself, changing into the new pair of panties. 

I decided to take my still wet, white transparent shirt off and wear his uniform coat on me instead, buttoning it up. I’m only wearing my plain pink bra underneath the coat. 

I finish my business and leave the stall, fixing my hair in the mirror. When I turned to leave, I met his eyes. I had thought he would leave by now, but of course not. He leans casually against the sink, arms crossed, his presence fills the entire bathroom.

“You’re still here?” I ask in surprise. 

“I told you, I would wait.” He says simply. Something tells me he’s not just saying that for this situation, it’s something more. 

I gulp, taking the bag he gave me the sanitary things and snacks in, but he takes it from me, not saying a word. 

We leave the bathroom together. The hallway is empty, still echoing with distant footsteps and the noise of students and professors in class. 

I try to act normal, but the way he walks beside, not behind, not ahead, makes my chest pound. He doesn’t speak, just watches me, eyes sharp. Protective. Possessive. 

When we reach the chemistry lab, I hesitate at the door. I don’t want to go back in there, not with him watching, not with everyone else staring. But he tilts his head, subtle, dangerous.

“Go on,” he says softly this time. “I’ll be right here. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.” 

I glance at him, my stomach twisting in ways I don’t want to admit. The weight of his gaze, his presence, is both suffocating and… comforting. 

Just as I was about to open the door, the sharp pain in my lower abdomen stopped me. My face scrunches up in discomfort, my right hand instinctively going to my stomach, while the left one holds on to the wall. Fucking cramps. 

“What’s wrong, Lana?” He says, his voice sounds alerted.

“N-nothing… I’m okay.” I murmur, mostly to myself. 

His eyes narrow, studying me. “You’re lying.” 

“I’m fine, Aiden.” My voice is firmer than before, steady despite my stomach feeling like someone is carving needles in. God, I really hate being a girl sometimes.  

He leans down slightly, just enough for his presence to press against mine, not touching, but close enough to make the air between us electric. “Fine isn’t enough,” he murmurs. “Can you walk?” 

I nod but he doesn’t look satisfied. Next thing I know, he’s picking me up in his arms, I yelp. “It’s okay—” 

“Shut up,” He cuts me off. I frown, putting my arms around his neck for support. He’s holding me in bridal style with just his left hand, still holding the bag with his right. 

And all of a sudden, I’m self-conscious. Am I not heavy? His hand must be getting crushed. “I can walk—” Sharp pain hits me like a bullet, and I’m unable to finish my sentence. 

“Exactly.” He pauses. “Relax, baby,” He says it like everything is okay. 

It’s not. Not when my heart is slamming against my ribs, not when I can feel everyone’s eyes that might see us, and not when Aiden Reeve is carrying me like I belong to him.

My hand clenches his blazer automatically, the other gripping the sleeve of his shirt. His jaw is tight, cut from stone, his eyes focused ahead. The hallways of Velgrave stretch endlessly, light spilling through tall windows, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the silence. 

I glance around, noticing a few curious stares from passing students. My face burns hotter. Of course they notice him. Everything about Aiden Reeve draws attention; the way he moves, the way he looks, the way he makes the air feel heavier. 

I can’t bring myself to look at him. Not really. Not when his cologne wraps around me, clean and sharp and his. Not when his hold is steady, not rough this time, but careful, soft, like I’m something fragile he refuses to drop.

He stops when we reach the end of the corridor.

“Where are you taking me?” My voice comes out quieter than I expect.

His gaze flickers down to me, and for a moment I forget how to breathe. “Somewhere you can sit down. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” I whisper. 

He exhales through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching, it’s not a smile, but something close. “You keep saying that, and it keeps being a lie.”

He pushes open the door to an empty study room, the ones only seniors use when they need quiet. It smells faintly like dust and paper. He sets me down gently on the couch near the window, his hand lingering at my waist longer than necessary.

I look away, tugging his coat tighter around me.

He kneels in front of me. Actually kneels. It’s disarming. The infamous Aiden Reeve, who doesn’t kneel for anyone, looking up at me like I’m both a problem and a prayer.

“Does it hurt?” he asks quietly.

I blink at him. “What?” 

“The cramps.” His voice is softer now. “You looked like you were in pain.” 

I hesitate, biting the inside of my cheek. I don’t want him to see me like this, small, vulnerable, messy. But he already does, doesn’t he? He’s seen all the sides of me I try to hide.

“A little,” I admit. “It’s not that bad.” It’s not the worst right now because I’m used to cramps, but it will get worse. Eventually. He doesn’t need to know that. 

He studies my face for a long moment, then stands abruptly. “Wait here.”

“Aiden—”

But he’s already gone. The door closes, and I’m left sitting there, staring out the window like it’ll tell me what to do. My stomach twists again, not just from the cramps but from the way he makes everything about him. The way he storms in and takes over, like it’s his right. 

I crouch down, changing my position a little so it helps with my cramps. Fuck, it’s getting worse already. I bury my face in my knees, I hate that there’s no cure for this. Painkillers only lessen the pain, never make it go away. 

Minutes later, the door opens again. He’s holding a steaming cup of something, the faint smell of peppermint filling the air.

“What’s that?”

“Tea. For the pain.” He places it in front of me, on the low table, then sits beside me, not too close, but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. “Drink.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize you were my doctor now.”

“Didn’t realize you were so bad at taking care of yourself,” he shoots back, his tone dry but his eyes soft.

I glare at him, but I still reach for the cup. It’s warm against my fingers, and the heat seeps through my skin, grounding me.

For a few moments, there’s silence. Just the ticking of the wall clock and the sound of distant chatter outside.

Then he speaks again, low and quiet. “You shouldn’t let people touch you like that.”

I freeze, cup halfway to my lips. “What are you talking about?” 

He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Parker.”

I sigh. “Oh my god, Aiden—”

“He had his hands on you,” he interrupts, voice sharp. “You think I didn’t see?”

“It was a hug, not a crime.”

“To me, it is.” His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking near his temple. “You don’t get it, do you?”

I put the cup down before I spilled it. “No, I don’t. Enlighten me.”

His gaze flickers over my face, then down to my throat, like he’s trying to memorize something. “You don’t see what people see when they look at you.”

“And what do they see?” I challenge him.

He leans closer, the space between us shrinking. “Something they shouldn’t touch.” 

My breath hitches. His tone isn’t angry now. It’s darker and quieter. Possessive in a way that makes my stomach flip and my throat dry. 

I try to look away, but his hand catches my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I don’t want anyone else near you, Lana,” he says, voice low, rough. “I don’t want them looking, touching, thinking they can have you.”

I blink rapidly, trying to find something, anything, to say. “You don’t own me.”

His lips curve, just a little. “No,” he says softly. “But I could. Or maybe I already do.”

The words hit me like a pulse. My heart stumbles, and I hate that he can see it in my eyes. He always sees too much.

I push his hand away. “You wish, asshole. You’re insane.”

He leans back against the couch, unbothered. “Maybe. But I’m right.”

I look away, trying to shake off the weight of his gaze. “You can’t just… do whatever you want. Drag me out of class, carry me around, buy—” I stop before I can say underwear. “—things for me, and act like you’re doing me a favour.”

“I didn’t ask for thanks,” he says evenly.

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?” His tone sharpens again, rising to match mine. “That I care too much? That I notice what no one else does? That I show up when no one else does?”

I open my mouth to reply, but the words get lost somewhere between my throat and heart. He’s leaning down, taller, broader, the sunlight from the window catching the edges of his face.

For a second, neither of us speaks.

Then, quietly, he says, “You don’t have to like me, sweetheart. But you’ll learn to stop running from me.”

There’s no threat in his voice,  just certainty. Like he already knows it’s true.

I cross my arms, trying to look unaffected. “You’re delusional.” I say the thing I’ve already said a thousand times before. 

He smirks faintly. “Probably.”

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with things neither of us are ready to say.

He leans in even closer, and my breath catches again. “You smell like my coat,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

I tug the fabric tighter around me, glaring. “Because I’m wearing it, genius.”

“Keep it,” he says simply.

“What?”

“The coat. Keep it.” His gaze softens just a fraction. “Looks better on you.” 

I want to throw it at him, I really do. But I don’t. Not like I can anyway, I don’t want to show him my bra again. I just stand there, heart beating too fast, pretending not to care.

Finally, he turns toward the door. “Come on. You’re skipping enough classes for one day.”

“You dragged me out of one!” I snap.

He glances over his shoulder, smirking again. “Details.”

Despite myself, a small, traitorous smile tugs at my lips. He sees it and the way his expression softens makes my stomach twist all over again. 

I see him turning back just as I finish my tea and stand up, picking me up in his arms again. “I’m okay, Aiden.” I say, and it’s true.

The cramps have gotten bearable, but now I think he just doesn’t want to let go. 

“I know.” He kisses my forehead and I freeze. 

What the fuck. 

He doesn’t say anything more, simply turning to walk out of the study room.

My eyes widen when he turns, and Jude is standing by the door.

******

To Be Continued.

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