My shoulders pull back before I think about it. Chin lifting.
He looks at my face first.
Not the bag at my feet. Not the van. Not the driver still hovering nearby.
My face.
His gaze holds there a second longer than it needs to.
Not long enough to be obvious, but long enough.
No one here knows what he is to me.
The bond runs warm and steady between us as he crosses the distance, closing it without hesitation, without checking.
He stops close. Not quite touching.
"Let me show you where you'll be staying," he says.
Not are you okay. Not how was the drive.
Just forward.
His hand brushes mine when he reaches for my bag.
Accidental.
Not accidental.
He doesn’t look at it.
Doesn’t acknowledge it.
Just takes the weight like it was always his to carry and turns, already moving.
I follow.
***
"Frosthaven is an old institution," he says, once we're clear of the quad. "University level. Students recruited on athletic and academic merit. The admissions process screens for latent wolves before they present — they don't know that's what it's doing."
I look at the buildings as we pass. Stone and dark wood up close, older than they look from a distance. A door with a large window, warm light spilling out into the cold. Someone's coffee going cold on a window ledge.
A girl on the path ahead glances up, checks me over, looks away. Not hostile.
"And me," I say.
"Specialized therapeutic placement. Separate residential, limited integration with the main student body." A beat. "You're not a typical Frosthaven student. You’re starting here late. And you're not staff. Most of them won't have a category for you."
"So everyone will have a theory about the new girl."
The path curves toward the edge of the grounds where the trees press close and the buildings get smaller. The cottage sitshalf-screened by old growth — stone exterior, a real door, a light already on inside. Dalton opens it and steps back.
I walk in.
It smells like him.
Not overwhelmingly. Just the trace of him in an enclosed space, faint enough that it takes a second to place. He's been here long enough to leave a mark and the room holds it.
