Someone like Jace fucking Monroe, who was currently in the next room, probably still inside Aurora, doing things that made her scream loud enough to violate every noise complaint policy this hotel pretended to enforce.

Addison’s hand drifted back between her legs.

She didn’t decide to do it. Her fingers just moved, finding her clit like they had a mind of their own. This was pathetic. She was so fucking pathetic. But her brain was already replaying every detail she’d just witnessed through that cracked door, and her body didn’t give a shit about her dignity.

The way Jace’s hand wrapped around Aurora’s throat. Not rough, but firm, like he owned her. The milk dripping from Aurora’s breasts, white trails down her skin. The absolute confidence in his voice when he told Aurora to come for him. Not asked. Told.

Addison’s free hand found her breast through the lace of her bra, squeezing hard enough to hurt. Her imagination was running wild now, supplying details she hadn’t actually seen. What would those amber eyes look like staring down at her instead? What would his hands feel like gripping her hips with that same casual authority? What would it sound like when he said her name?

She came again. Quieter this time, her back bowing off the mattress while she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. The copper taste mixed with the cherry from her discarded lollipop.

Afterward she just lay there in the darkness, chest heaving, thighs sticky, brain completely fucking offline. She felt wrung out and hollow and vaguely disgusted with herself.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

A text from Aurora.

You back? Hope the club was fun. We’re probably still awake if you want to hang.

Addison stared at the message.

Aurora didn’t know what she’d done. Didn’t know Addison had spent the last twenty minutes in the hallway getting herself off to the sounds of her best friend getting absolutely wrecked. Didn’t know about the mental replay happening on loop in Addison’s brain.

This secret felt like acid in her chest.

But there was no fucking way she was confessing it tonight. Or ever.

She typed back: Club was ass. Going to sleep. Have fun with your boyfriend.

Aurora responded with a string of heart emojis and: He says hi.

Addison threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall with a satisfying crack and bounced onto the carpet.

She rolled onto her stomach and smashed her face into the pillow. Tomorrow she’d wake up and pretend this never happened. She’d be Aurora’s terrifying best friend again. The one who definitely didn’t masturbate to the soundtrack of her best friend’s sex life. The one who didn’t give a shit about some random freshman’s hands or voice or the way he commanded attention without trying.

Tomorrow she’d go back to the academy and train until her body hurt worse than her ego. She’d forget Jace Monroe existed beyond being Aurora’s newest fixation.

Tomorrow she’d be normal.

But tonight, alone in a hotel bed that smelled like sex she wasn’t having, with her hands still slick and her body still humming, Addison let herself acknowledge one thing she’d deny in the morning:

She wanted what Aurora had.

Not the power boost. Not the strategic advantage of having a boyfriend who could make girls stronger through sex. Those were just logistics.

She wanted someone to look at her the way Jace looked at Aurora during dinner. Like she mattered beyond her rank or her ability or how useful she could be in a fight. Like the violence and profanity and goth aesthetic were part of the package instead of problems to fix or ignore.

She wanted someone who could pin her down and fuck her senseless while still making her feel safe enough to show the parts she kept hidden under spikes and leather.

Someone with amber eyes and hands strong enough to make her submit.

Someone who was currently balls-deep in her best friend and making her produce milk like some kind of hentai fever dream.

"Fuck my life," Addison muttered into the pillow.

Her phone buzzed again. Another message from an unknown number.

She grabbed the phone off the floor and squinted at the screen.

This is Jace. Aurora gave me your number. She mentioned you might need a ride back to campus tomorrow. Ferry leaves at 10 if you want to join us for breakfast first.

Addison stared at the message for a full minute.

He was reaching out. Being polite. Treating her like a person instead of an obstacle to his romantic weekend.

Most guys would’ve been annoyed by the third wheel situation. Would’ve tried to ditch her faster. Would’ve made it clear her presence was unwelcome.

Jace was inviting her to breakfast.

Despite knowing she’d interrupted his time with Aurora. Despite her being the intimidating friend who threatened to gut anyone who hurt Aurora. Despite Addison making extremely forward comments about his ass during dinner.

He was being kind.

Addison’s chest did something complicated.

She typed back: Sure. What time?

His response came immediately: 8:30? There’s a place near the boardwalk that Aurora likes.

Fine. Don’t be late.

Wouldn’t dream of it. Sleep well.

Addison dropped the phone again and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling with fresh confusion replacing the previous horniness.

Jace Monroe was either genuinely decent or the most skilled manipulator she’d ever encountered. She couldn’t figure out which option scared her more.

Because if he was decent, that meant Aurora had found someone real. Someone worth keeping. Someone who might actually stick around when things got complicated instead of bailing the first time her chaos became inconvenient.

And if he was a manipulator, that meant he was playing Aurora for a long con. Building a harem of devoted girls who’d do anything for him because he made them feel special.

Either way, Addison needed to know the truth.

She pulled the pillow over her face and groaned into it.

"This is such bullshit."