“Don’t ever do that again,” he slurs. The sharp scent of alcohol and mint hits me, dizzying.
“Do what?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
“Scare me,” Kai mutters, gaze half-lidded but sharp, too sharp. The words hang there, and I can’t help but replay them.
Scare me.
I look away, feeling guilty. “It’s not like I did it on purpose,” the words come out quieter than I intended. The silence that follows presses in, and the familiar weight creeps back in, to be a burden once again, to betoo much.
Kai studies me. Then, slow and deliberately, he nods. “Alright… I’ll let it slide. For a fair price.”
I tense.
“A kiss,” Brackwell says, voice low and even. “Forscaringme to death.”
My breath catches, and the room stills; neither of us moves. Locked there, frozen in the space between impulse and regret. And just like that, I remember who he is, and that he won’t remember this when he’s sobered up. Or worse, he will, and he’ll turn it into a joke, pretend it never meant anything, and I don’t have the energy for that. I’ve got enough to carry without adding Kai to the weight. But with his hands on me, there’s something magnetic in his touch. Something that pins me here, in this moment, nothing else exists. It’s so foreign from what I felt with Victor or anyone before, really.
And somehow... It feelsright, even if I know better.
“Stop,” Kai murmurs, voice low, brushing over me like a breeze. “Stop thinking. You’re smart. Hella smart, Vi. But you think too damn much.”
Vi? The way he says it, familiar. As if it’s something he’s said a thousand times before, as if it belongs to him. I study him, cautious, curious.
“You’re drunk.”
“I know,” he whispers, no fight in his tone.
“And consent doesn’t count when you’re drunk.” I push up, trying to get some distance. But his hands slide to my hips, firm,deliberate, pulling me back to him, as if he’s trying to hold the moment in place, burning it into both of us.
“I’ll ask again when I’m sober,” Kai says, voice steadier now, cutting through the haze. “And next time, there will be no hiding. No escaping,” Eyes sharper, he says it as fact, making my breath catch. Except by the time it takes to blink, I remember what’s at stake.
“I’m not running, Kai,” I say, eyes locked on him. “But I’m not here to play games either.” Something shifts in him, a flicker of something real. Something I’m not sure either of us is ready for. He leans in, close enough to taste the words on my lips.
“Keep telling yourself that, Princess,” he murmurs. “But your body’s already in the game. I smell it on you.” His voice drops lower, into a gravelly tone. “And it’s fuckingaddicting.” His grip tightens just slightly, a warning, a thrill. Kai’s eyes shift, glowing with that wild, untamed edge, the telltale shimmer of his lycan side.
I am fairly certain my lungs have stopped working. Then, slowly, he rises with me still in his arms, effortless, not minding the handful that’s my ass. Heat coils between us as he slowly lets me slide down his body, letting go only when my feet touch the ground. But Brackwell doesn’t move away; instead, Kai leans in, breathing me in, deeply before turning away. Silently walking out of my room, no glance back, no clever remark, just the echo of his presence and the sound of my own heartbeat crashing like a drum in my ears.
The first lightof morning filters through the sky, casting a soft gold glow across my room. I haven’t slept; it’s not like I needed rest, no,of coursenot.
I pull on my uniform: black, fitted, functional, a cropped zip-up jacket, long sleeves, tight pants that move with me, and I slide one of the blades against my thigh, just in case. After everything I’ve seen, everything Ifeltin that vision. I know better than to leave the house unprepared. Trouble doesn’t knock, it breaks in, uninvited.
I braid my hair in two, tight and quick. A few stubborn curls frame my face, and I let them; not every battle is worth fighting. Which automatically pulls me to the wreckage of my dreams, the part I can’t shake, the one that I always found so disturbing, I can’t remember their faces.
My brother or my friend? All that’s left is the weight of their presence and the echo of their laughter. Not their features, not their voices. Just the sense of them, like a song you almost remember but can’t quite place. It slips through my mind as smoke between my fingers. It should scare me more than it does. But fear takes energy, and mine’s already running thin.
The silence in the estate wraps around everything as a second skin, as if the house itself knows more than it’s telling, which wouldn’t surprise me. Stepping into the kitchen, the light is soft, catching dust in the air frozen mid-fall. I grab three apples from the bowl. Not bothering with breakfast, never really been my thing, but I owe Skyfire a few treats, and I like to keep my promises.
Stepping outside, I pull the gate shut behind me with a click. The morning air hits me, crisp and edged with the last bites of autumn. I close my eyes, just for a moment, and let the air breathe into me. Instinct takes over as I exhale slowly, letting the noise in my head quiet to a manageable pace.
My boots crunch over fallen leaves, dry and curled at the edges. The scent of earth and something faintly sweet like bloomed flowers fills my nose. I can’t believe I’ve been here for three weeks now. Not because it feels foreign, on the contrary, it feels like a well-known melody.
My transition went as smoothly as anyone could hope, I suppose. I started in the beginners’ class, just to assess my level. I was placed with teenagers who hadn’t been fully enrolled yet, and that was when I realized why they were so eager to trap me here. We were what, six students total?
Two boys who looked like they hadn’t had a proper meal in days. Tall, but too thin, eyes hollowed out with shadows. Brothers, from the look of it. I caught whispers that they accepted enrollment because they needed the money. The others agreed, two girls and a younger boy. Something twisted in my chest. It hit me then; I wasn’t the only one who had to grow up too fast.
Luckily, the Elgarian education system is pretty similar to the one in the Mundane World, and the semester had only just begun. Still, like any academy, exceptions were made based on a student’s progress. My mind doesn’t remember this life, but my body clearly does. So I poured all my spare time into memorizing the runes. Casting them came naturally; all it took was intention, but I needed the words, the language of the Gods.
I made flashcards and sat at my desk under candlelight, a blunt between my fingers, repeating the words over and over until they carved themselves into my brain.
