I reached the point where I couldn’t stay another minute without giving myself away. My breath came shorter, the edge of awareness cutting too deep. So I murmured something about forgetting my gloves, pushing my chair back with measured care. Aster didn’t question it. Noah’s head lifted, his grin softening into something gentler. “Don’t take too long,” he said, voice easy. “We’ll save you a spot on the lift.”
I smiled back, or tried to, even if the shape of it felt foreign. “I’ll be quick.”
The corridor beyond the dining hall was quieter, insulated from the chatter and clinking dishes. Warm air drifted through the narrow space, faintly scented with pine and coffee, the carpet soft beneath my boots, muffling each step. My room was at the far end of the hall, second floor, a space meant for rest, never for the storm gathering inside me. The sounds of other guests leaked faintly from behind closed doors, music, laughter, the hum of a television left too loud.
When I reached my door, I exhaled. I slipped the key into the lock, turned it, and stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind me, and for a moment, the silence felt almost kind.
Then everything shifted.
A hand locked around my wrist, strong and certain, pulling me back before I could breathe. My body collided with heat and shadow, my balance stolen, a gasp catching uselessly in my throat. The world tilted, blurred, and then the adjacent door opened, swift and soundless. I was drawn through it before I could think, the latch snapping closed behind us, cutting off the faint spill of light from the hallway.
My back hit the wall, solid, unyielding, the cold biting through my spine. The air in the room was darker, thinner, laced with the sharp scent of winter still clinging to his clothes.
Hayden.
His name formed in my mind before it reached my lips. He stood close—too close—his hand still wrapped around my wrist, not rough but possessive enough to still the breath in my lungs. The faint light from the window caught his face, carving his features into shadow and definition, his eyes locked on me with that impossible focus that unraveled reason without ever needing a word.
I tried to speak, to demand, to breathe out his name or tell him to let me go, but the air between us was too thick, the silence too dense to cut through. His stillness carried its own gravity, pressing against me until all I could do was feel, the warmth of his palm, the faint drag of his thumb, the electric thrum beneath my skin that had nothing to do with fear.
The space between us was small enough to trap the heat. His breath mingled with mine, quiet and ragged, and the scent of him, threaded with something darker, wrapped itself around me until it was all I could taste.
I knew then, with a clarity that stole whatever courage I thought I had left, that whatever he wanted from me, I wouldn’t stop it. Not this time. Not when every nerve in my bodyhad already decided that surrender was the only language left between us.
Chapter Sixteen
Hayden
Shewasfuckinglaughing.Not the kind of polite laugh people throw around to fill silence, but something soft and real, a sound that moved through the air and settled under my skin until it hurt to breathe. It curled around the room in slow spirals, sweet and careless, and every second of it wasn’t mine.
I stood at the far end of the breakfast hall, still half-drenched from the storm outside, my coat heavy with melting snow, the scent of cold clinging to me like a second skin. The chatter, the scrape of chairs, the clink of mugs, none of it mattered. Because she was there, right in the middle of the noise, the only goddamn thing I could see. Edwina Carter. Head tilted just enough for a strand of hair to fall forward over her shoulder, lips curved around that laugh that shouldn’t have belonged to anyone but me.
And sitting next to her, the boy. The one with the ridiculous smile and the kind of confidence that only came from never having been hit hard enough to lose it. He was grinning, teeth too white, posture too easy, eyes lingering where they shouldn’t. He said something, and she looked at him, that smile softening, her hand lifting just slightly toward his plate.
Something twisted deep in my chest, dark and hot. I watched his hand graze hers, that small, insignificant fucking movement that sent heat tearing through me so fast it felt toxic. My fingers curled inside my coat pocket, every instinct screaming to cross the room, drag him away from her, and make sure he never touched anything again without trembling. I wanted to hear his breath crack under my palm, wanted to see the blood bloom against his lips when I told him to keep his distance.
But I didn’t move. Not yet. I stood there, forcing myself to breathe while my control shredded thin. My jaw was tight enough to ache. My pulse hammered so hard I could feel it in my teeth. The entire hall had turned into white noise, professors murmuring over coffee, students laughing, the smell of burnt toast and sugar thick in the air. It all blurred into nothing.
She was wearing a green sweater, soft and fitted, sleeves pushed up just enough to expose her wrists, the same wrists I’d once imagined beneath my hands, the same wrists that now rested on the table between her and that fucker who didn’t know what he was playing with. Her jeans clung to her hips, and I hated myself for noticing, hated that I couldn’t look away.
I should’ve stayed home. I’d told myself that a hundred times on the drive up here, the snow coming down so thick I could barely see the lines on the road. But I couldn’t stop. The thought of her here, away from the university, surrounded by boys who still thought desire was harmless, had sunk its claws into me until I was already too far gone. I’d packed at two in the goddamn morning, thrown my coat over my shoulders, anddriven through three hours of ice and silence, chasing something I told myself was reason but felt more like need.
And now she was smiling at someone else.
I watched her lean in when he spoke, her shoulder brushing his for a fraction of a second, and something inside me snapped so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. I wanted to grab that table, flip it, drag her out of that fucking chair, press her against the nearest wall, and remind her who she was dealing with. My blood was a steady roar, every muscle wired tight. I could taste her name at the back of my throat, bitter and sweet in equal measure.
Then she looked up.
Our eyes met, and the entire goddamn world froze. That laugh died on her lips, replaced by something smaller, something that made my stomach clench. Surprise. Maybe guilt. Maybe heat. Whatever it was, it hit her hard enough that I felt it from across the room.
Good. Let her feel it. Let her remember who the fuck was standing here watching.
I didn’t smile. I didn’t move. I just stared until the space between us went taut and electric, until I could see her breathing faster, her fingers tightening around her cup, her throat shifting as she swallowed. And then, slowly, I let my gaze drop, to him.
That boy. Noah. That pretty, smiling little piece of shit who thought her attention was his to earn. He was still talking, still oblivious to the way her entire body had changed the second I walked in. His hand was too close to hers, his eyes too bright, his voice too confident. I wanted to break every single one of those things.
She didn’t push him away. That was what gutted me. She didn’t fucking move.
It wasn’t jealousy anymore. It was darker than that. It was something older, meaner, a hunger twisted up in violence. Iwanted to touch her so badly it hurt, but I wanted to hurt him more. I wanted to make him understand that she wasn’t for him. That she was already claimed, even if neither of us had the courage, or the stupidity, to say it out loud.
