JADE
Logan’s braced above me,one hand planted beside my head, the other wrapped around my waist. His weight cages me in, the heat of his body sinking into mine, anchoring me as the forest spins.
The ground is damp beneath my back, twigs digging into my skin. But all I can focus on is the searing imprint of Logan’s hand at my hip, flexing against my waist like he’s fighting the urge to either pull me closer or push me away—maybe both. And his eyes… they aren’t cold anymore. They’re wild and haunted, like he’s seeing something he thought he lost, like I’m a ghost who came back to life.
“You’re alive,” he breathes, the relief in his voice not matching his original stone-cold warrior persona at all.
“You saved me.” My words come out as a whisper, barely audible over the blood rushing in my ears. “That thing—its teeth—they weren’t protected like they were supposed to be. You saw it, too, right?”
“I did.” His grip tightens on my waist, then loosens, then tightens again in the exact same spot. For a second, his eyes lack focus, like he’s internally calculating something. And suddenlyI’m aware of every point of contact—his palm burning through my clothes, his arm brushing my face, and his thighs pinning me down.
Maybe it’s the adrenaline. Maybe it’s the fact that I almost died and he appeared out of nowhere like an avenging angel. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me like I’m something fragile and precious he almost lost. Maybe it’s the way his entire body vibrates with barely contained energy, like he’s one wrong move away from combusting. Or maybe it’s because he’s the first person in my life who’s looked at me like I matter—not my last name, not my connections, but justme.
I don’t think. I just move.
My hand finds the back of his neck, and I pull him down, crashing my lips against his.
His body goes rigid, then relaxes, then goes rigid again, and for a terrifying second, I think I made a horrible mistake. That I misread everything. That he’s going to shove me away and?—
A sound tears from his throat, something between a growl and surrender. And then his hand’s sliding into my hair, his fingers finding the spot at the nape of my neck that makes me shiver, the kiss deepening with desperate urgency. It’s messy and consuming, like we’re trying to prove we’re alive, that this moment is real, that monsters and magic and near-death aren’t enough to stop whatever spark ignited between us. For what must be well over a minute, we’re all desperate hands, racing hearts, and barely controlled power that makes the air around us shimmer with heat?—
Then he rips himself away so suddenly I gasp, cold air rushing in where his warmth had been seconds before.
“No.” He’s on his feet in a heartbeat, backing away as if I tried to kill him instead of kiss him. His chest heaves, his hands shake slightly before he clenches them into fists, and he’s watching me like he committed an unforgivable crime.
“Logan?” I push myself up on my elbows and force myself to stand. “What’s wrong?”
He drags both hands through his hair, pacing in a tight circle like a caged animal. “Nothing. Everything. I shouldn’t have—” He cuts himself off, pressing his palms into his eyes. When he drops them, there’s something in his expression that looks like defeat. “That was a mistake.”
The words slice through me like ice water. “A mistake?”
“Adrenaline. Near-death experiences. It’s a common physiological response.” The words come out too fast, like he’s reciting them from a textbook. “Forget it happened.”
“That wasn’t just adrenaline?—”
“Yes, it was. Almost two solid minutes of it.” The words are cold and final, and he practically sprints toward the clearing, through the shimmering walls which apparently only work one way, leaving me standing in his wake with my lips tingling and my mind spinning.
Because what the hell? He’s as insane as the others. A different brand of insane, but insane, nonetheless.
Not knowing what else to do, I hurry after him, anger burning through the confusion. By the time we reach the others, I’m ready to grab him and demand answers, but the scene in front of us stops me short.
The Hydra lies in pieces, all heads severed and cauterized. Kieran stands among the carnage like a statue, arms crossed, his gaze locked on Logan with lethal precision.
“You interfered.” Kieran’s voice is quiet. Dangerously quiet.
Logan’s shoulders tense, but his reply is steady. “The wards on its teeth malfunctioned.”
“The wards don’t malfunction.”
“They did today.” He stiffens, his eyes fixed on Kieran. “Check for yourself.”
Kieran gives Logan a look that implies he’s about to prove him wrong, strolls over to the Hydra’s head that nearly killed me, and pulls its massive lip up to reveal its teeth. His eyes harden as he examines what’s in front of him. Then, slowly, he reaches forward and touches one of the teeth, his head tilting like he’s analyzing a science experiment.
Finally, he releases the lip and turns back to Logan. “The wards malfunctioned,” he confirms. “Good work. A promising first day as proctor.”
Logan nods in response, refusing to look at me.
The dismissal stings my soul.
