A Single Glance That Shattered My Composure

Lucian's POV:

The room buzzed with laughter, the sound grating against my ears as my so-called friends reveled in their usual antics. Zane leaned in, his smirk practically gleaming with mischief.

“Oh, this just got interesting! Lucian, what’s it gonna be? Truth or dare?”

Ryker’s voice followed, laced with mock seriousness. “Choose wisely, Your Highness, or you might live to regret it.”

I leaned back, exuding ease despite the scrutiny. Their little games meant nothing to me, but I played along—for now. My gaze swept across the circle, pausing on Aria.

“Truth,” I said finally, my tone deliberate, with just enough edge to silence the chatter.

The reaction was immediate. The group erupted in laughter, their teasing predictable.

“Truth? Really? The great Lucian picking truth?” Calen snorted, shaking his head. “I didn’t see that coming.”

Dante smirked, leaning back as if he’d cracked some great mystery. “He’s playing it safe. Smart move, honestly. The dares in this group are brutal.”

I ignored their jabs. My focus wasn’t on them. It was on her. She met my gaze briefly, her blue eyes narrowing just slightly as if she were sizing me up. She had something to say, I could tell. But before she could speak, Esme’s voice cut through the noise.

“Oh, I’ve got one!” Esme leaned forward with a grin that only spelled trouble. “Were you serious about Celeste?”

The room fell silent. The sudden shift in atmosphere was palpable, as if everyone collectively held their breath. Even Zane and Ryker, who never took anything seriously, went quiet.

My jaw tightened slightly, but I didn’t let the question faze me. I already knew how to answer—it wasn’t as if I owed anyone an explanation. But I wasn’t doing it for them. My gaze flickered to Aria. I could feel her watching me, could sense the anticipation in her silence.

“No,” I said finally, my voice steady. “I wasn’t serious about Celeste.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than I’d intended. The group erupted into murmurs and low laughter, but I barely noticed. My attention was elsewhere. On her.

Zane grinned, leaning back like he’d just won a prize. “Ouch. That’s cold, man. Just casual, then?”

Sofia raised an eyebrow, her tone light and teasing. “Guess even princes have their flings.”

Their laughter filled the room again, breaking the tension. But she didn’t laugh. Aria sat quietly, her expression unreadable, though I caught the flicker of something in her eyes—surprise, maybe? Curiosity?

She glanced at me then, her gaze hesitant but deliberate. And when our eyes met, it was like time slowed. There was no humor in her expression, no sign of the usual confidence she carried. Just... vulnerability.

I didn’t look away. I couldn’t. There was something about her—something I couldn’t quite put into words. The way she held herself, the way she didn’t shrink under my gaze. It intrigued me, challenged me.

She broke the stare first, her cheeks flushing as she turned away, pretending to laugh at something someone else said. But even as the noise around us grew louder, I could tell she felt it too—that unspoken tension, the pull that neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

“Alright, Nico,” I said, cutting through the chatter, my voice calm and commanding. “Spin the bottle.”

Nico chuckled, reaching for the bottle. “Here we go,” he said, spinning it with a flourish. I watched the bottle as it turned. But when I saw her out of the corner of my eye, the faintest smile curved my lips. She was trying something again—her air power, subtle but obvious to someone like me. I almost admired the effort.

Almost.

But now it’s my turn to play with you, Aria. Just like you started it.

With a flick of my fingers, I sent a pulse of my own power, unseen but deliberate. The bottle spun further, faster, and then it stopped—pointing directly at her.

The room erupted into laughter, but I stayed silent, my eyes fixed on her. She stared at the bottle, her expression a mix of shock and suspicion. When she finally looked at me, I let my smirk grow. She knew. And she knew I knew.

“Well, Aria,” Kai said, grinning like the devil himself. “Truth or dare?”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering around the circle before landing on me. The weight of her stare was almost amusing. She was trying to decide—play it safe or rise to the challenge?

“Dare,” she said finally, her voice steady.

I knew it. She would choose dare instead of truth, trying to ignore the questions she knew we’d ask—the ones that could unravel what she was hiding from us.

Ryker leaned forward, his grin wicked. “Alright, Aria, here’s your dare: make Lucian laugh. If you can’t get him to laugh, you have to kiss him.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of the dare hanging over us. I didn’t move, didn’t react, though I could feel the tension ripple through the group.

I shot Ryker a sharp glare, my chest tightening with something dangerously close to anger. What rubbish had he just barked? Was this his twisted way of forcing her to choose truth?

My hands curled into fists against my thighs, but I kept my face unreadable. She wasn’t supposed to be forced into this—not like this.

I didn’t move, didn’t react outwardly, but inside, I was anything but calm. I hated this. The idea of her being pushed into something she didn’t want—especially with me—felt wrong.

My gaze flicked to her. Aria sat frozen, her expression unreadable, but I saw it—the tension in her shoulders, the slight tremor in her fingers. She wasn’t unaffected.

And neither was I.

My jaw tensed, nails pressing into my palms as I observed the moment unfold. This wasn’t just about a stupid game. Ryker had planned this from the start—to push her into choosing truth, to force her into answering the questions we all wanted to ask. What was she hiding?

But not like this.

His method was ruthless, cornering her into an impossible choice. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Then Sofia’s voice rang out, cutting through the tension. "Absolutely not! She can't do this! First of all, how could you make her kiss someone over a dare? And second—" She turned to Aria, eyes blazing. "You can't lose your first kiss like this!"

I blinked. What?

First kiss?

My gaze snapped to Aria. She was staring at the ground, her shoulders drawn in, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Zane frowned. "First kiss?" His tone was incredulous. "Aria, are you telling me you've never—?"

Aria’s head jerked up, her voice cracking. "No! I haven't, okay?"

Silence.

Zane leaned closer, his mouth agape. "Wait, so... you've never had a boyfriend either?"

Her shoulders tensed.

“No,” she said quietly, then louder. “No, I haven’t.”

Something in me went still.

No boyfriend. No one.

But it didn’t make sense.

Aria, perfect in so many ways, had never been kissed? Never been with anyone?

The thought punched me in the gut harder than anything else.

But what followed was a surge of something darker, something possessive.

The idea of anyone touching her, kissing her—of someone else claiming that part of her…

The feeling boiled in me like acid. I’d never been jealous in my life—never cared about what other people did. But this? The thought of someone else holding her, kissing her—it made something twist inside me.

No. That was mine. She was mine. And no one would touch her. Not like that. Not ever.

And then, just as suddenly, another thought hit me. Why do I feel like this?

Why did the thought of her with someone else make my blood run hot? Why did my mind instantly reject the possibility of another man standing too close to her, whispering in her ear, making her smile?

Why did I just think she’s mine?

There had to be something wrong with me. This wasn’t normal. I never got jealous. Never cared about what other people did, least of all when it came to trivial things like first kisses. And yet, the idea of anyone else taking that from her made my jaw clench so hard it ached.

I exhaled slowly, trying to push past the sudden storm inside me, but my instincts wouldn’t let me. They screamed at me, told me something wasn’t right.

And then another realization struck—she knew.

Aria knows something.

She was hiding something from me, from all of us. And if my instincts were right, she wasn’t planning on telling me anytime soon.

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I needed to talk to her. Alone.

"Are you serious?" Zane pressed, clearly not letting this go. "How is that even possible?"

Nico, sensing the rising tension, stepped in with a casual shrug and an easy grin. "Simple. Every guy is scared to death of her."

That got everyone’s attention. Heads turned toward Nico in confusion.

Ryker frowned, arms crossing. "Why would anyone be scared of her?"

"Because," Nico said smoothly, his grin widening as he leaned back, "she's always been dead serious about finding her mate. No boy wants to get in the way of that."

The words hit something deep inside me.

Her mate.

She’d been waiting. For only him.

A sharp, unfamiliar sensation coiled in my chest. It was irrational, but the thought of her holding out for someone—for some faceless, nameless mate—sent a flare of irritation through me.

My hands curled into fists again before I could stop them.

She was waiting. Waiting for him.

But who the hell was he supposed to be?

I forced my jaw to relax, my expression unreadable.

This had nothing to do with me.

And yet, something told me—whoever she was waiting for…

He’d have to go through me first.

Ryker’s voice broke through my thoughts. "Well, Aria," he said, his grin smug, "guess that means it's truth now, huh? Unless you're going to back out."

I tensed.

For a split second, the thought hit me—I wanted her to kiss me.

The realization was sudden, unexpected, and completely unwelcome.

I wanted to know what it would feel like. If her lips would be as soft as they looked. If the pull between us, the one I kept trying to ignore, would finally make sense.

But not like this.

Not in a crowded room. Not as part of a game. Not because someone else decided it for us.

And definitely not when she didn’t have a choice.

Before she could speak, I cut in, my tone firm and unwavering.

"You shouldn't do it."

Her expression flickered—shock, maybe, or something else entirely—but she didn’t argue.

“Truth it is,” she said instead.

A slow smirk spread across Ryker’s face. His plan had worked. Now, everyone’s eyes were on her, waiting for the moment we’d finally get some answers.

"Tell us what really happened in the infirmary today," Ryker asked, his tone deceptively casual.

The air in the room shifted.

Aria’s face tensed. She looked down, her shoulders tightening, fists clenching so hard her knuckles turned white.

I felt something tighten in my chest.

Why did she look like that?

Why did it feel like she was holding something in—like she was fighting something alone?

"I..." Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. She swallowed, then lifted her head, forcing herself to meet Ryker’s gaze. "It wasn't anything major."

Lies.

I knew it before she even finished speaking.

"I just—well, I wasn't feeling well. I must have overexerted myself, and it caught up with me."

It was a good lie. Simple. Believable. But the way her fingers trembled against her lap, the way she couldn’t quite meet anyone’s gaze for too long—she was hiding something.

The others exchanged skeptical glances. Zane looked ready to push for more, but before he could get a word out, I cut in.

"She said it's nothing major," I said, my voice calm but edged with finality. My gaze flicked to Ryker. "Drop it."

The words came out before I even realized it, because I could see it—the unease in her posture, the way she forced herself to stay still when she clearly wanted to retreat. She wasn’t just uncomfortable. She felt cornered.

And that pissed me off.

It wasn’t about protecting her, not in the way the others might assume. It was about control—about making sure no one forced her into saying something she wasn’t ready to.

My words left no room for argument.

Ryker held my stare for a second before raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Just curious, that's all."

Aria exhaled softly, but I wasn’t fooled. The relief in her posture was forced. Whatever she was hiding, it wasn’t just exhaustion.

And I wasn’t letting this go.

I kept my eyes on her, searching for something—anything—that would give her away. But she avoided my gaze, her walls firmly in place.

Not for long.

For now, I’d let it slide. But this wasn’t over.

Calen clapped his hands, breaking the tension. “Let’s go, guys, or we’ll miss dinner!”

Ryker stretched with a grin. “Yeah, we should. We got so caught up in the game, we forgot to eat.”

One by one, they stood, their earlier intensity fading into easy chatter.

I moved slower, my thoughts still tangled in the moment before.

Without thinking, I acted.

One second, I was watching her, my mind tangled in questions. The next, my hand was around her arm, stopping her before she could slip away with the others.

She froze at my touch. A spark shot through me at the contact—subtle, barely there, but enough to make me aware of the warmth of her skin beneath my touch. Enough to make me reluctant to let go.

“Aria.”

Her name left my lips before I even realized I had spoken. Her wide eyes met mine, startled, guarded—like a cornered animal. I knew that look. It was the same one I’d worn too many times before.

“Go ahead,” I said over my shoulder to the others. “We’ll catch up.”

For a moment, no one moved. Ryker raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. Zane exchanged a glance with Kai, who hesitated before finally nodding and stepping away.

One by one, they filed out, but not before shooting curious glances back at us.

The door shut, sealing us in thick silence. The air between us felt heavier now, charged with something I couldn’t name.

She turned to me, her expression unreadable, but the tension in her posture gave her away.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice barely steady.

I studied her, searching for something—anything—that would explain what I had seen in her eyes back there. The exhaustion. The weight of something she refused to name.

I could feel it.

"Are you okay?"

It wasn’t the question I had meant to ask. But somehow, it was the only one that mattered.

She blinked, thrown off, and then—too quickly—“I’m fine.”

Liar.

Her voice was too flat, too rehearsed.

“You’re not.” I stepped closer, watching her carefully, catching the way her breath hitched, the way her fists clenched at her sides like she was holding herself together by sheer force. “That outburst in the infirmary… it wasn’t normal. And I know you’re hiding something—something more than you’ve let on since the day you got here.”

I expected her to snap at me, to throw back some sharp remark and walk away. Instead, she just stood there, silent.

I saw the way her lips parted, then closed. The way her throat worked as she swallowed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she finally said, but even she didn’t sound convinced.

I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through my hair. “Aria, I’m not pushing you to tell me. But I can tell it’s serious. Whatever it is, whenever you’re ready… I’ll be here.”

Her breath hitched. Just for a second.

I saw it.

The moment she let her guard slip—the way something in her cracked, like she hadn’t expected me to care.

Her lips parted again, hesitation flickering in her gaze. And then, softer than before—

“I… I’m sorry.”

That caught me off guard. My brows furrowed. “For what?”

She hesitated, glancing down, twisting her fingers together. “For what I said to you in the infirmary.” A quiet exhale. “It wasn’t fair, and I know you didn’t deserve it. And…” Another pause. “Thank you. For taking care of me, even when I didn’t make it easy.”

I tilted my head, studying her. She wasn’t just saying it to be polite. She meant it.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I said, my voice lower now. “And you don’t need to thank me.” A pause. “But I need you to stop shutting everyone out. Whatever you’re dealing with, it’s not just about you. Is it?”

Her breath stilled.

Something shifted in her expression, something raw and unguarded, and then—

“You always do the same, Lucian,” she whispered.

The words cut sharper than they should have.

“You push people away. You don’t let anyone near you. You think power is everything, that nothing else matters!”

A muscle in my jaw ticked.

My first instinct was to snap back, to remind her that she was the one hiding things, that she had no right to throw accusations at me.

But I didn’t.

Because deep down, I knew she was right.

Her chest rose and fell, her fists clenched at her sides. Her words had been an outburst, unfiltered and raw, but they rang with truth.

I felt something crack in me, something I wasn’t ready to face.

“Aria,” I started, my voice quieter this time.

“No!” she cut in, shaking her head. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean.” Her voice trembled, but she didn’t back down. “You think no one notices, but I do. I see it—the way you push everyone away. Like letting someone in will break you. Like caring is a weakness!”

I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

Because for the first time in a long time, I felt exposed.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t wrong.

She met my gaze, her expression as defiant as ever, but there was an undercurrent I couldn’t quite identify. A flicker I couldn’t put into words. My fists tightened at my sides, the tension building in my body. I should’ve said something cutting, something that would create some space between us.

Instead, I stepped forward.

She stepped back.

The movement was instinctive—hers and mine. But the moment the space between us shrank, a sensation in me shifted. A strange pull, foreign and insistent, curled around my chest. It made no sense. I had never felt anything like this before.

My eyes locked onto hers, searching for an answer I didn’t have. Why did being near her feel so… off? Like something had clicked into place without my permission. The feeling unsettled me, an unfamiliar weight pressing against my ribs, demanding to be acknowledged.

"Aria."

Her name felt foreign on my tongue, it didn’t quite suit her, like it was missing something, as if it wasn’t the one meant for her.

“What?” she snapped, her voice strong but not steady. “What could you possibly say to justify acting like this? Like you don’t care about anyone?”

I inhaled sharply. There it was again—that assumption. That I didn’t care. That I felt nothing.

She had no idea how wrong she was.

I took another step, closing the space between us once more. The strange feeling only intensified, making my thoughts unsteady. My mind was sharp, always calculating, always in control. But now? Now there was doubt creeping in, uncertainty winding its way through me like a slow-burning fire.

“You think you know everything, don’t you?” My voice came out more clipped than I intended. I wasn’t sure if I was angry at her—or at myself. “You think I don’t care because I don’t show it the way you want me to. But maybe… maybe I care too much.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

A flicker of shock crossed her face, and for a moment, neither of us moved. The air felt thick, charged with something neither of us understood.

What was happening?

Why did I say that?

Before I could untangle my thoughts, a voice broke through the moment.

“Hey!”

Nico’s voice shattered whatever had settled between us. His casual, teasing tone grounded me, reminding me that this—whatever this was—was ridiculous.

“If you two don’t hurry up, I’m eating your share of dinner. And trust me, I’ll enjoy it.”

Aria stepped back, putting real distance between us this time. The tightness in my chest should have eased, but it didn’t.

I forced myself to turn toward Nico. “We’re coming,” I said evenly, keeping my voice as controlled as ever.

Nico smirked, eyeing the both of us before shaking his head. “Sure you are,” he said, clearly amused. “Don’t take too long, though. I’m starving.” He disappeared down the hallway without another word.

I exhaled, forcing my shoulders to relax. Whatever had just happened—it didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

But then—

“Lucian…”

Her voice stopped me in my tracks.

I turned my head slightly, meeting her gaze. There was hesitation there, doubt flickering in her expression.

“Do you ever feel like…” She trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper.

Like what? Like there was something wrong with me? Like every time I looked at you, something inside me twisted in a way I didn’t understand?

I narrowed my eyes. “Like what?”

She shook her head quickly. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Again lies.

But I let it go. Because whatever she was feeling, I wasn’t sure I was ready to admit I felt it too.

“Let’s go. The others are waiting.”

She hesitated before nodding, falling into step behind me. But the tension didn’t leave—it followed us, pressing in from all sides, unanswered and unspoken.

I forced my thoughts elsewhere, onto anything but her. But no matter how hard I tried, that strange feeling remained.

It didn’t make sense. I had spent years perfecting control, training my mind to be sharp, my emotions locked away where no one could reach them.

So why was she unraveling it all with nothing but a look?

Why did she make me doubt?

I didn’t know. And that… that was what scared me the most.

As soon as we stepped into the mess hall, I scanned the room for our table. Aria stood beside me, silent but alert. The entire hall had gone quiet, and I felt the weight of countless gazes pressing down on us. I was used to it—attention, fear, curiosity. It followed me everywhere. But this time, it wasn’t just me they were looking at.

They were looking at us.

I clenched my jaw and try to ignored them, focusing our friends. When I spotted them, we started walking toward the table. But before we could reach them, Celeste appeared in front of us.

Her sharp eyes landed on Aria, filled with something dangerously close to hatred.

“Well, look at this,” she sneered. “A lowly air dragon walking into the mess hall with Prince Lucian. How adorable.”

Before I could say a word, Kai stepped in, his expression thunderous.

“Don’t you dare pull a stunt like you did in the canteen today,” he snapped.

Canteen? My gaze sharpened, every muscle in my body going rigid as I processed his words. What had she done? What was Kai talking about? The room felt suffocating now, the noise around me fading as I focused on the storm brewing in the space between us.