“We’ll figure it out. We have time.”
We’ve been back at school for two weeks now, and we haven’t learned anything more about the mating Bond or the lifeforce. Even Professor Ainslyn has been assisting us. I wave goodbye to my running team as I head back to Taeolyn.
The evening breeze cools my heated skin. We’ve been practicing my gifts, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t control when I get hot, and I still can’t summon the light. Every failure feels like I’m letting the entire system down. I can’t figure out what’s holding me back; I feel fine. I’ve accepted that I have some strange bloodline that makes me Elven, or whatever, and I’ve accepted that my unnaturally long life is gone. But I can’t find a light within me to summon.
The wards cling to my skin the moment I step into the Executive Yard—cool, invisible threads weaving over my arms, curling around my throat, brushing across my spine like a spiderweb laced with static. A whisper of ancient magic pulses against my senses, alive and alert. I doubt I’ll ever stop feeling them—like they’re watching, weighing, waiting.
After opening up to our friends, I learned no one else feels them. No one…except Ryker.
My mate.
I still don’t know what that means.
But I like saying it.My mate.
I reach the steps of Taeolyn and freeze when a sudden, icy shock drenches me from head to toe. The gasp sticks in my throat as something thick and wet coats my skin. I blink through the blur, vision swimming in crimson. My power stirs, drawn from its well like a blade unsheathed—primed to defend. I swipe at my eyes, but my hands come away slick, glistening red.
The crowd around me erupts in laughter and whispers. Students press in, delighted, horrified, their Prisms already recording. At the center of it all stands Sienna. Her smile is all teeth and malice, her icy blue eyes locked on me. She hoists an empty paint bucket like a trophy.
She lifts a brow before saying in a melodic, cruel voice, “Did you know that when you have sex for the first time, you bleed?” Her head cocks to the side. “Oh, but you wouldn’t know that. Don’t worry, it’s not a lot.” She steps toward me, her boots making the paint squelch on the stone steps. “A little birdie told me you’re still untouched. Still intact.”
The laughter grows around me as Sienna takes another step. “Shame. I really thought he was into you. Guess not.”
I steady my breathing and look around. My voice is razor-thin and shaking. “Why—Why are you even here?”
My fists curl so tightly at my sides, my nails bite into my palms. Heat surges through me, a wildfire under my skin.
Hold it together,I scream inwardly.Not here. Not now.
The paint slides down my body in thick, mocking streaks—hot,nearly scalding. My pink running top and shorts are destroyed. My hair drips red like blood.
And still, I stand there. Burning.
Sienna laughs—low and sharp. “You know why.” She takes the final step, her smile turning into a cruel, vicious thing. “And I’m not giving up. It’s only a matter of time before he tosses you aside. You don’t know him like I do.”
I swallow down my insecurities.Mate. He’s my mate. We’re fated to Bond. “I know him better than you think.” I take a shuddering breath. “All of this over something you have no control over? Like I said, desperate.”
The words come out smooth despite the shakiness I feel. My anger flares the longer I stand here, the longer everyone stands here recording my humiliation.
“I’d call you a whore,” she sneers, “but I guess you can’t be if you’re a frigid little prude.”
More laughter bursts from the sidelines.
I smile, slow and sharp. “No. That title already belongs to you.” Her face contorts. She shrieks and lunges, fist swinging. It never connects. Trysten’s training takes over. She swings again, and I twist, sweeping her leg and stepping back, laughing. This time, the crowd laughs with me; something in my veins sings.
Sienna launches herself at me, knocking us both into the dirt. I hit the ground hard but roll, flipping us so I’m on top, pinning her down. “Stop embarrassing yourself!” I yell. Her wrists are trapped above her head, and she’s thrashing, screaming. Trysten shouts behind me, but he’s distant, muted. All I hear is the power rising—slamming into me like a wave breaking on stone. “He doesn’t want you,” I seethe.
Sienna’s screams turn feral as she writhes beneath me, but it’s not until I glance down that I understand why. Blisters bloom where my hands are pinning her wrists—angry, red, bubbling beneath my touch.
A jolt of panic snaps through me. I try to let go, but my body doesn’t respond. My limbs are locked, frozen in place by something far greater than will.
Move. Move.
My chest heaves in shallow gasps. There’s no air—only fire. The same searing flood that overtook me in Sgya rushes through my veins now, scorching, unrelenting. The crowd behind me vanishes into silence.
And then, I feel it—an instant shift in the air. A heartbeat later, Ryker is there. He drops to his knees and wraps himself around me, shielding my body with his own. He hisses at the contact, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, his power meets mine—cool, steady, and sure. It flows into me like water over a flame, dousing the inferno inside.
I gasp as my muscles finally release, and Sienna slips from my grip, rolling over, attempting to push off the ground but collapsing into the dirt, half-conscious and gasping for breath. Ryker stands, lifting me into his arms like I weigh nothing. I can’t stop staring at her. At what I did.
