"This isn't over," he says as the music comes to an end.
He releases me then, stepping back and putting proper distance between us. But his eyes are still dark, still watchingme with an intensity that makes it clear he meant what he said. Whatever this is between us, it's not going away just because he walked away from the dance floor.
I stand there trying to catch my breath while he disappears back into the crowd. My whole body feels like it's vibrating at the wrong frequency. I can still feel where his hands were, can still smell him on my skin.
I can't stay here. Can't spend another hour in this ballroom with four males watching me and my body responding to all of them in ways I can't control. I need to leave before I do something stupid, before the heat makes me reckless enough to stop caring about consequences.
I slip out of the ballroom while no one's paying attention, taking the back corridor that leads toward the academic wing. Most of the building is dark this late, but I can see light coming from under one of the office doors.
Julian's office.
I should keep walking. Should go back to my dorm and lock myself in and wait for the heat to pass. But my feet carry me to his door anyway, and before I can talk myself out of it I'm knocking.
There's a pause long enough that I think maybe he won't answer, that maybe I'll be forced to walk away. Then his voice comes through the door, careful and measured.
"Miss Bardot. The ball isn't over yet."
He knew it was me. He didn't need to see through the door to know. "I couldn't stay."
Another pause. "Why not?"
"Caspian."
The door opens. Professor Harmon is standing there with his mask pulled down around his neck, and his eyes find mine immediately, dark and intense. His jaw tightens when I say Caspian's name.
"Come in." He steps back to let me pass. "We can review your Revon essay."
But when I enter he doesn't move toward his desk. He doesn't pick up papers or pull out my assignment. He just stands there in the middle of his office while I stand near the door, and the space between us feels charged with everything we haven't said.
"You're still in heat." He says it like he's stating a fact, not asking a question.
"How do you know?"
"I can smell it. Every male within a hundred feet can smell it." He takes a step closer and I can see his hands are clenched at his sides. "It's been torture staying away from you."
"I didn't know. I didn't mean to..."
"I know you didn't." Another step closer. "But you're here anyway, and I can smell you, and every instinct I have is screaming at me to stop pretending I can resist this."
We're standing too close now. Close enough that I can smell cedar and old books and something underneath that's just him. Close enough that when I speak his name it comes out barely above a whisper.
"Julian."
He inhales sharply like I've hit him. "Don't call me that."
"Why not?"
"Because when you say my name like that I forget every reason why I can't have you." His hands come up slowly, carefully, and cup my face. His thumbs brush against my cheekbones and I can feel him trembling slightly with the effort of holding back. "And there are so many reasons, Nova. So many reasons why this can't happen."
But he's leaning in anyway. His eyes are on my mouth and I can see the exact moment he stops fighting, the exact momenthis control starts to slip. I tilt my face up and he leans down and we're a breath away from crossing a line that can't be uncrossed.
The knock on the door shatters the moment.
We both freeze. His hands are still on my face and mine have somehow ended up fisted in his shirt. We're breathing too hard, standing too close, and someone is on the other side of that door about to discover us.
Another knock. "Harmon? You in there?"
Julian's eyes close briefly and I can see him pulling control back around himself like armor. When he opens them again, the professor is back, measured and careful.
