Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent.

Chapter 10:

"There is only one way

to get anybody to do something.

And that is by making the other

person want to do it."

-Dale Carnegie

The infirmary in Dauntless did not contain the same stark white harshness as the hospitals in Erudite did. Nor did it have all the complex machinery that accompanied the vast research that took place there, but it was fairly well stocked. The walls were still white, but made of arching bricks, which suggested that at one point it had been a subway station. The one major difference between this infirmary and the Erudite ones was that Erudite was always packed with people who were constantly buzzing around doing important work like bees, whereas this place was a ghost town.

It made sense that Dauntless would have to have a well-equipped infirmary- they were soldiers, and half of these people did completely stupid tasks in the name or bravery (e.g. pride). But I suppose it was that same reason that accounted for the lack of people. No one wanted to damage their ego by admitting they were in pain. But people like me, or in this case Justice had no choice when they were knocked out cold.

Glancing at my friend I admitted that it was a strange sight to see her passed out. Even in the deepest throws of sleep Justice always maintained a firm presence- snoring or thrashing around in her bed. But now she was unnaturally quiet and still. Her long form was neatly tucked into what I knew was a much comfier cot, her face devoid of emotion, long lashes touching her cheeks. I didn't really want to be here, but I figured I owed her.

Only one nurse in dark pants and a red shirt was quietly making the rounds to the two other patients- a young girl and an elderly man. I followed her methodical movement with my eyes, bored out of my mind. By the time I turned back to Justice her dark eyes were beginning to flutter open.

"Hey," I said, cringing at how loud my whisper sounded in this empty room.

Her eyes immediately searched me out, "Hi," she replied, her voice scratchy. And it must have hurt to talk because her long fingers immediately went to sooth the bruised flesh on her neck. "Water?" she croaked.

I obligingly picked up the plastic cup full of water sitting on the tray next to her cot. Justice moved slowly as she sat herself up and took the glass from my hands. She drank deeply before setting it back down.

"Guess we traded places, eh?" she said with a weak smile.

I smiled back not really knowing what to say to her. I was never good at comforting people, and now felt much more appreciative for the effort she put forth in trying to make me feel better after losing a fight.

"You were still amazing though. I don't know how Ben managed to stay up with you hammering at his ribs," I feebly offered.

Justice snorted, "You kind of suck at this making me feel better thing."

My eyes widened in surprise, and I let out a peel of laughter. Once it calmed down I acknowledged the now grinning Justice. "I know."

She smiled, her face still looking too pale. "I'm glad that you tried though…"

"Are you two having a moment? Should I leave?" asked an amused voice from behind us.

Justice and I traded unimpressed looks before shooting twin glares at Ian. The death stares didn't seem to bother him though, as he sauntered forward, silly grin on his face.

"Hey Jay," he said, his grin melting into a soft smile when he reached her cot and brushed a finger over her hand.

"Hi," Justice replied in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

My eyes swiveled between the two of them- Ian with his shy bashful smile and Justice with her reddening cheeks. I took this as my cue to leave. "I'm glad you're feeling better. I should get going though," I said.

"Oh, are you sure you can't stay?" Justice asked, her eyes barely peeling away from Ian to look at me. I sent her a knowing look, which caused Justice's blush to deepen. "See you later Ly."

Ian parroted the statement, but I was already out the door.

It was close to dinner so I figured that Henry would already be in the Dining Hall with Patrick, unless Patrick was still upset about Henry beating him. But Patrick didn't seem like the type to dwell on loses. Truthfully Patrick didn't seem the Dauntless type at all, and I don't know why he transferred here. But he was entirely too boring for me to even care to find out.

When I reached the Dining Hall my assumptions were proven correct. Patrick and Henry sat side by side with Marina across from them. The two were eating in amicable silence, while Marina was chatting away. I was taking by surprise by the mousy girl though; I had never heard Marina speak a word before.

"Do you mind if I join you?" I asked, once I reached the table. Three heads snapped up to look at me. I knew that Henry wouldn't mind, and neither would Patrick. But I wasn't quite sure about Marina, especially after our fight today. Everything about this girl seemed a total mystery and that didn't sit quite well with me. I was used to being able to read people.

"Sure," Marina blankly said, pulling out the only vacant chair next to her.

I tentatively sat down and smiled at Henry. The silence that had seemed so friendly became immediately strained when I sat down and I stifled the urge to shift uncomfortably in my seat before helping myself to the bowl of pasta.

"So how is everyone else liking initiation so far?" Patrick nervously asked and we all turned our eyes on him. He shot us a weak smile.

Though his question was a poor attempt at breaking the ice, it did make me internally question- how did I like Dauntless? So far initiation had been hell on my body, and certain people had wrecked havoc my mind, but it also brought a strange sense of freedom to me.

"I like it so far," Henry simply said. And though Henry was still massively intellectual I could see how he fit in here. Quiet, but fierce- a perfect soldier.

"It's- it's very different," Marina said, hesitantly looking over at me. And I got the feeling that she was just as confused by me as I was by her.

"Big change from Candor?" I idly questioned.

Her dark eyes studied me for a moment, and they were so different from Justice's. And despite both of them growing up in the faction of honesty, I found Marina's body language to be so restricted, unlike my tall friend. Nothing about her hinted at what she was truly thinking or feeling.

"Very big change," was all she said.

"And you Lyra? How do you like Dauntless?" Patrick asked, his earnest face turning to me.

I almost sighed at the puppy like expectation on his face. "It's been interesting," I said, shoveling a forkful of noodles into my mouth to keep me from elaborating. And it's not like that was a lie, my time here had been interesting. I just wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing yet.

"Oh my goddess, have you heard about Claire?" exclaimed a very familiar drawl.

I turned around but Fern's pale eyes were focused on Marina, who's posture had become very stiff.

"No, what about Claire?" Marina said slowly, as if she was choosing her words carefully. That was a trait she had undoubtedly picked up from Candor. She may not have been allowed to lie, but she could be careful with what and how she told things. A useful skill to have- that just made her all the more dangerous though.

Fern ignored the rest of us sitting at the table. "Apparently she left the infirmary this morning."

I had wondered why I didn't see her there.

"That's wonderful news," Patrick said, a large smile spreading across his innocent face.

But I knew all too well that that couldn't have been all to the story. The sly tilt to Fern's thin lips would not have been nearly so satisfied at having another transfer finally recovered, especially when she put her there in the first place.

Fern's brows lifted haughtily, "Yes wonderful news indeed. I'm sure you two will be reunited soon…" Patrick's smile just got wider and I actually felt bad for him. "Because the pathetic little wimp dropped out. So when you too find yourself factionless, at least you'll have each other."

Patrick's smile vanished in an instant, along with most of the colour in his face. Henry too looked shocked, but Marina didn't. And truthfully I wasn't too surprised at Claire's choice to leave. She hadn't made much progress in training and had almost been killed in her first fight. But still, it was alarming that someone would actually choose to be factionless. I suppose she wanted to leave with what she considered dignity. Too bad most people in Dauntless would consider it cowardice.

When Patrick's chair scrapped the floor loudly as he hastily got to his feet, Fern smirked again, "Don't bothered going to the dorms, I already checked. She's gone." And with that last piece of terrible news she sauntered down to Ben's table, a spring in her step.

Patrick slumped back down in his chair looking devastated. Henry whispered something to him, and Marina patted his arm soothingly. I just shoveled the rest of my food into my mouth, eager to leave. I had already been put in one awkward situation where I had to comfort someone earlier today and that was for Justice, who I was much closer to.

"I think I'm going to head up early," I said, finally pushing my plate away.

Henry looked away from Patrick's crushed face to me. "Alright, goodnight Lyra. And I hope you're doing okay too. I know you and Claire were bunk mates."

I offered Henry and the rest of the table a bland smile before turning around and taking off. The truth made my stomach curl slightly. Because a large part of my brain informed me that though Claire was nice, she was one more competitor, and now she was gone. One less person to have to worry about. And that was a horrible thought considering what happened to her, what probably is happening to her now, but I couldn't help it. If I was anything, it was a realist and a survivor.

I took a long drawn out route back to the dorms, trying to clear my head and contribute to the mental map I was making of Dauntless. By the time I reached the dorms it was still early, but an acceptable time to go to bed. And I knew my body could use the extra sleep. I changed into my sleep shorts and brushed my teeth before climbing into my cot. But as I lay on my side I notice the cot beside me was stripped bare. Claire's cot.

Claire, who was so quiet and unassuming. Claire, who you could just tell had no place amongst the violence. Claire, whose red hair stood out against the midnight materials. Claire, who Eric eagerly sent into the ring only to get beaten senseless. Claire's empty cot- and in a couple of hours, days, or weeks could be my empty cot. I cannot be weak. I cannot fail. I cannot be weak. I cannot fail. I cannot be weak. I cannot fail. It was a mantra that lulled my mind into a distracted sleep.

But still my body jolted awake in the middle of the night, the symphony of snores echoing around me. My eyes shot over to the neon wall clock- twelve seventeen. The perfect time to go to the gym. But when my eyes strayed over to that empty cot again, I remained firmly tucked into my covers. I wasn't going to see him again.

When I woke in the morning my body immediately protested. My system felt out of whack. And despite the large amount of sleep I just woke up from, I felt like a drained battery. But still I went through the motions of showering and putting on my black clothing before having breakfast. Henry was alone in the Dining Hall when I arrived.

"Good morning," I said, plopping into the seat across from him and stirring my oatmeal.

"Morning," Henry said, sipping his coffee. After a moment he decisively set the mug down and stared at me. "Can I ask you something Lyra?"

I looked up from my food and really scanned Henry. Dark purple blotches clung under his eyes. His blonde hair looked slightly more disheveled then normal. "Sure," I carefully answered.

"If you loved someone, would you change factions to be with them, or even drop out entirely?" Henry asked his brown eyes focused intently on my green ones.

I felt like ice had been poured down my spine at this question. Because despite loving someone, I didn't remain in the same faction- I actually switched. Maybe that made me selfish, maybe I'm the unusual one.

"I don't know if I'm the best person to ask, but I don't think that is too common. Most people believe that couples tend to have healthier relationships when they share the same traits, which is why we tend to stick to our own factions. As for going factionless, I don't know. I can't picture myself ever being in a position where I would have to consider that. Sometimes though, you just have to do whats best for yourself."

And if it came down to Alexander being factionless and me standing in front of those five bowls again, my blood still would have hit the coals, especially after finding out that he clearly had no problems replacing me.

"Why do you ask?" I questioned after coming out of my thoughts.

Henry bit his lower lip and for a moment my eyes darted down to follow the movement. I felt a tightening in my belly- my hormones were informing me that they were not happy about my recent sexual regress. I ignored them as I would only ever see Henry as a friend. Even if he was an attractive one.

"Last night after you left Patrick told me that he was considering dropping out because of Claire."

My eyes widened in horror. "Are you serious?"

Henry eyed the tables around us before learning closer, "Please don't tell anyone. You know how they are about loyalty here, but he kept going on about it last night. I didn't know what to tell him."

I scoffed, "That's just crazy. He doesn't even know her that well."

Henry looked conflicted- probably because he actually liked Patrick. "I don't know. I told him to take some time to think about it."

"Sage advice," I said before returning my attention to my oatmeal. And that was the end of the issue, or so I thought.

Just an hour later, when all of us were heading to the training room, I got my first look at Patrick since he heard the news of Claire's departure. If I thought Henry looked disheveled, it was nothing in comparison to Patrick. Dark bags hung to a much paler looking face, and he walked with a distinct slump. It was hard to believe that someone could go through such a radical change overnight- and this was coming from me who was still sporting a now green tinged eye.

Justice had spent the night in the infirmary, and Ian's empty cot suggested that he did too. They joined the group of us as we walked down to the training rooms. Henry filled them in about Claire on the way, and I watched my two friends absorb the information. Sympathy, along with relief etched itself onto their expressions.

When we reached the training room, Four and Eric were once again standing in front of a table of knives. Eric's steel eyes immediately searched the group as we entered, honing in on me. But instead of the viscous amusement, or condescending curiosity that usually lurked there, I was met with only hardness. No anger, no irritation- nothing to hint at how he felt about me standing him up at the gym last night.

"You know what to do," Four said, gesturing to the knives.

We all moved forward, but I felt my feet dragging. My eyes were worriedly fixed on Eric, who was still staring at me as he fiddled with a much bigger and more deadly looking knife. I shook my head a bit- I couldn't let him affect me. I had to focus. So I determinedly strode up to the table and grabbed three blades. This time no hand shot out to offer me one. If anything that made me feel slightly more troubled. I moved to the target beside Justice and unfortunately Fern took the one on my other side. I ignored her as I took the position that Eric had demonstrated yesterday.

But before I could throw my first knife Eric's voice boomed out, "Today you are going to move back another ten feet before throwing."

Justice scrunched her face up in dread and I had to stifle my laughter at her expression. Something told me that Eric was not in a tolerant mood today, and I did not want to be the one that set him off. I moved back the required distance and once again took position. But this time when I threw my knife it landed short, not even hitting the target. I heard Fern snickering and willed my face not to redden. I picked up the next knife and put more force behind my throw- but this time my force caused it to swerve slightly and it landed on one of the outer rings.

I let out a deep breath, and took my time to line myself up properly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Fern's knife hit the target with the blunt edge. I couldn't have wiped the smirk off my lips if I tried. My arm drew back, but a powerful hand gripped it. Startled, I turned and met sizzling blue eyes.

"You're arms are weak grunt, you're going to have to put more effort into you're throws," Eric growled, flinging my wrist from his grasp.

I wanted to rotate my wrist to make sure his bear-like hand hadn't snapped anything, but didn't dare with him still standing behind me. Instead I drew my arm back and threw the knife again. It didn't hit bulls-eye, but it did manage one of the inner circles. Somehow I already knew that wasn't going to be acceptable.

"Pathetic grunt," Eric snarled, his breath whipping my hair around my ears.

I ignored him and went to collect my knives. He was still standing there when I returned. Internally groaning and pleading why me, I resumed my stance. My next throw inched closer to my target, but still didn't manage to hit it.

"I don't know why I even bothered showing you the correct position yesterday grunt," he said. And I noticed that despite his closeness he made sure that no part of him was touching me. "Soon you'll be out on the streets just like that other girl. To weak to make it."

Infuriated my eyes shot over to him. As I opened my mouth I noticed the satisfaction lurking in his face. He wanted a response. He was trying to provoke me into reciprocating. And damned if it wasn't working. My mouth snapped closed and I turned back to my target, flinging the knife at it. It hit dead centre.

My eyes peaked to see Eric's barely contained rage in the stillness of his giant body as he studied my knife. He slowly turned to face me creeping forward until he was just inches away. "You're nothing."

"Eric," Four's voice called from behind us. Eric immediately stepped away from me and strode over to Four.

I heard snickering from beside me and turned to face a devilishly amused Fern.

"Is he mad because you suck in bed?" she asked, crocodile sympathy on her face.

"Why are you so interested about what I do in bed?" I asked, planting another knife in the target. Fern flipped me the bird before focusing on her own target.

For another three hours we threw knife after knife at our targets, with Four telling us to back further and further away from them every half hour. The tiring, but somewhat exhilarating peace was shattered by a strangled cry. At first I thought someone had accidently cut themselves or someone else. But it was much worse.

Patrick had dropped his knives and fallen to his knees. No blood was visible around him. He put his head in his hands, his back shaking with sobs.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, as Henry carefully put a hand on his shoulder. "I just can't do this anymore. Not without her."

It was dead silent in the room as we all watched, not quite sure what to do, until Four strode over. He leaned down and spoke quietly to Patrick before hauling him to his feet and walking him out the room.

My eyes shot to Henry, who looked like he wanted to follow.

"Disgusting," a loud voice rang out. We all turned to face Eric. "See that initiates- that is someone who is weak," he spat, his eyes shooting to me for a brief moment. "Here at Dauntless we only accept the strong. And if you can't make it through stage one, you sure as hell won't make it to stage three." He seemed pleased by the myriad of terrified faces he had just created. Looking at his stopwatch he sighed, "Break for lunch."

We all swarmed together as we flooded the Dining Hall. Everyone, but Henry was talking about Patrick's meltdown. Some people like Ben and Fern were reveling in it with acidic amusement, while others like Marina and myself contained sympathetic neutrality. I was almost angry with myself for feeling more sympathetic towards Henry for losing a friend than Patrick for leaving. Justice and Ian thankfully didn't have much to say seeing as they didn't get to know him all that well.

After lunch we all filed back down to the training room, and reluctantly over to the mats.

My eyes scanned the chalkboard, but I didn't find my name. With my tiredness from my strange sleep and the dramatic events of the morning, being the odd one out from fighting was welcomed.

"Fern, Justice, you're up first," Four exclaimed.

I sat down and let my analytical eyes watched as Fern and Justice took the matt. I studied both their movements and smiled when Justice's bloody, but ruthless face smiled at her victory. And clamped down on my surprise as Marina overtook Ian. But through all of the fights a trickle of awareness informed me that I too was being watched. Unkind eyes from the youngest leader burned me. But I paid them no mind and watched with fascination as Henry took to the mat against Ben. It was a close fight, and magnificent to watch, until Ben whispered something at Henry. My money said it was about Patrick. It enraged him- Ben didn't stand a chance.

And soon enough we were dismissed for dinner, my stiff limbs aching from inactivity as I joined my bloodied peers. Ian was in an absolutely vicious mood since losing to Marina. Overall it had been an eventful day and I was happy that I got to observe the fighting this afternoon. I now knew exactly how my approach should be with almost all of the other fighters.

As I munched on my dinner, I picked up the newspaper lying beside me, and ignored Justice trying to calm down Ian's fuming. The front page had a report on food distribution rates, and I scanned over any articles on Erudite and health care wondering if I would see my mother's name. I didn't, but an article did mention my father's lab working on a new serum for Dauntless…Interesting.

It wasn't until I reached the society pages of the newspaper that shock truly flooded my system. I ignored the article, not interested in its speculating gibberish. A picture did tell a thousand words after all. And whoever took this picture must have got a money load. Printed in black and white was a large picture of Alexander's lips fused to Caroline Lumley's. One bronzed hand gently cupping her golden hair.

I wasn't angry- rage didn't bubble within me. I just felt a deep sense of loss. That this person who meant so much to me- who taught me so much about myself was gone.

"What are you staring at?" Justice asked craning her neck over to look at the newspaper. "Oh him! Such a fine species of man! Did you ever meet him?"

I could feel my head nodding in response but it almost was as if I wasn't in control of it.

Justice let out an annoyed huff as she studied the picture again. "GodI can't believe all that hotness is being wasted on Caroline. She was always such a bitch."

My head snapped over to look at Justice, who was still studying the picture, her lips curled in distaste as she eyed the ink form of the blonde.

"You know Caroline Lumley?"

"Yeah, she was my next door neighbor growing up. One of those girls who are willing to trample on anyone to get what they want. When we were kids she used to say the meanest things to everyone and always got away with it because she was just 'being honest.'"

And with this new information I felt anger simmer within in again. Indignation that Alexander would chose such a viper as my replacement. Indignation at having a fucking replacement. And the anger remained brewing inside me all through the rest of the night. And though I didn't want to be within a mile of him at midnight, I trudged up to the gym, praying that Eric wouldn't be there.

If there was a God, he sure as hell never listened to me.

I opened the door and walked straight to the treadmill, not bothering to acknowledge Eric's hulking frame pulling weights. Surprisingly, he didn't say anything either and I was free to run. I should have known that the peace wouldn't last. After about thirty minutes of my feet hitting the tread, pounding out all of my emotions I finally felt a prickle at the back of my neck. And I literally felt like a little woodland creature that just knew she was being hunted.

A tattooed arm reached around my body and hit the stop button. The tread immediately stooped and I tripped, falling into the sidebar. I shot him an annoyed glare, but stopped when my eyes finally took him in.

Eric's tall form was standing in front of me shirtless. And I couldn't help but let my traitorous eyes roam over the muscled planes of his chest- where each tattoo surged in his skin, from neck to just above his nipples. Corded muscles that radiated power dripped with sweat that trailed down to that delicious v where his black shorts sat low. My mouth felt dry. But when I met his eyes again, I saw smugness and I knew indignation answered in mine.

I cocked my hip and crossed my arms, alarmingly aware that I was only wearing my tight black pants and sports bra. "Yes?"

His blue eyes narrowed at my unspoken defiance, "You didn't show up last night grunt. And here I was thinking you actually wanted to be in Dauntless."

My spine straightened. I cannot be weak. I cannot fail. "I wasn't in the mood to run."

"Running isn't going to help you," Eric snapped. "In Dauntless we don't run away from our problems, we face them."

Shock filtered my system, and I actually considered his words. All of the running I had been doing for the past few months- had it been a release, or was I simply running to chase away my problems? But when my eyes flickered over to Eric, my resolve hardened. It didn't matter why I was running; he was just trying to piss me off.

"I'm here now aren't I?"

Eric tilted his head in consideration, and once again his face seemed completely closed off. "But you came here to run…why?"

"Does it matter?" I deflected.

He smirked, "Not really, I'm just curious."

"Curious?" I said, raising a brow, "How awfully Erudite of you."

He flinched and my hawk eyes caught the movement before he could hide the automatic response. So he wasn't fond of Erudite- that was interesting…

But in the next second Eric's hard face and even harder hand gripped my upper arm and pulled me off the treadmill. "Come on grunt, I'm going to teach you to punch. That way I don't have to watch your pathetic attempts in the ring."

Somehow I felt like this was just a convenient excuse for him to attack me. But then again I would seemingly be able to hit him back with the perfect alibi. My lips stretched in a smile. Thankfully Eric didn't spot it, as he pulled me onto some worn mats. He turned to face me.

"Make a fist," he ordered.

Perhaps it was something about Eric that truly brought out the reckless Dauntless in me because I immediately felt myself wanting to fight back. To yell that I didn't have to listen to his commands. Except that I did. He was helping me after all. So I made a fist.

He grabbed my hand, "Your thumb always has to be on the outside of your fist. Otherwise you break it." He tucked my thumb below my curled fingers and moved away again. "Now hit me."

I didn't need to be told twice. I drew my arm back and hit Eric in the chest. Pain blossomed in my hand. It was like hitting a boulder. Satin skin that was so deceiving as it enveloped steel muscles.

Eric grabbed my arm again, his fingers ghosting from my fist to the inside of my elbow. Shivers danced through my body, but I fought to remain focused.

"Don't punch with the flats of your fingers, use your knuckles. And make sure your wrist is straight. Put all of your weight into it."

"Where should I aim?" I belatedly asked, my eyes already focused on that same patch of skin. If I could at least get it to bruise that would be considered progress.

Eric smirked, "Wherever you want."

I decided that it was my sleep- addled mind that imaged his voice going deeper. I drew my arm back again and this time punched with my whole force. And to my delight, Eric actually stumbled back a step. I couldn't help the proud smile that took over my lips.

"Good," Eric said after righting himself. "But you are going to need to start lifting weights to strengthen your arms and wrists. That was like being hit by a five year old."

And the giddy bubble of success just popped.

"Now we are going to try something different. I am going to attack you from behind, and you are going to do whatever you can think of to throw me off or get away."

He waited for my nod of approval before moving away. And some still sane part of me was yelling 'this is a bad idea'! Because despite his help Eric didn't seem overly fond of me, and this time he was the one potentially throwing the punches. I was so fucked.

When I felt the large hand yank my shoulder, my instincts led me to try and shake him off, when that didn't work I planted my elbow back into his ribs.

Eric swung me around to face him, "Good. That will wind your attacker," he said, sounding slightly out of breath.

He turned me around again and I waited for his next attack. It was agony that I couldn't see where he was coming from. But this time I felt one powerful arm wrap around my middle, caressing the bottom of my breasts, while the other splayed across my hip. And then hot skin pressed into my nearly naked back. I froze.

"You're supposed to be fighting grunt," his hot breath blew against my neck leaving a trail of goosebumps.

My toes curled, my stomach tightened and my breath let out in a whoosh. But my head was screaming at me 'this can't be happening'. It was just like my sex-starved eyes watching Henry bite his lip this morning, just a passing awareness. Because it was simply not possible that I was attracted to Eric. And yet I could feel my nipples straining against the flimsy material of my sports bra, and knew my eyes were pitch black.

Eric slowly turned me around, his fingers burning trails against my skin as they brushed over me, until I faced him. Chest to chest, skin touching skin, and I prayed to every god there was that he couldn't read the absurd arousal my body was displaying. Finally my gaze met his and I almost staggered back at the blatant hunger displayed. His hands dug into my hips, pulling us flush, and I could feel the evidence that I wasn't the only one whose body was reacting.

I sucked in a breath and willed myself not to press my hips further into him. To not rub myself against his heavy erection and make things ten times more complicated for us. My body was pushing me forward, but my mind screamed at me. And with my remaining energy, I stepped back. His burning eyes followed the movement, darkening at the distance.

My mouth felt dry, "Its late. I should get back to bed," my hand gesturing to the door, but my eyes remaining fixed on him. His expression didn't change.

Finally I snapped myself out of the strange trance Eric had lured me into, and rushed to the door. I picked up speed and didn't look back as I rushed through the corridors. My previous thoughts echoing through my head.

I was so fucked.

A/N: Hi everyone, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Things are heating up! But as the description says, this story is a slow burn and will remain a slow burn, despite some heated moments.

Sorry for the long break, but life has gotten busy! Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long, as we have some interesting things about to happen!

Thank you to everyone who had read/reviewed/followed/and favourited, I'm glad people are enjoying reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!

Please review and share your thoughts on the chapter!

- Nyx : )