The storm rolled in without warning—thunder splitting the night like bone, rain hammering the city until streets turned into rivers.
Campus alerts lit up Ayan's phone: Shelter in place. Lockdown active.
Perfect.
He was already trapped inside his own body.
The suppressant had stopped working hours ago.
Now, every step felt like walking through fire, every breath a drag of glass.
Heat crawled over his skin, thick and merciless, and the empty hallway stretched like a fever dream.
He made it to the far end—an old classroom, door unlocked, lights dead from the blackout. He slipped inside, shut it behind him, and pressed his forehead to the cool wall.
Just until it passes.
Just until—
> "Ayan."
The voice slid through the dark, low and steady, and every cell in his body went rigid.
Not now.
Not him.
He turned, slow, heartbeat pounding like fists against his ribs.
Kairo stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his hair, shirt clinging to every line of muscle like a sin. Shadows curled around him, storm-light flashing at his back like he'd dragged the night inside.
> "What the hell are you doing here?" Ayan's voice was rough, frayed at the edges.
Kairo didn't answer right away.
Just looked at him—long, too long, eyes dark and deep like the part of the ocean where light goes to die.
When he spoke, it was almost soft.
> "You look like hell."
> "Leave."
The word cracked like ice breaking under weight.
Kairo stepped in.
Slow. Measured.
> "Not happening."
Ayan backed up until his spine hit the desk, heat rolling off him in waves he couldn't hide anymore. The air between them thickened, sharp, something feral threading through the silence.
Kairo's gaze flicked down—his breath stilled for half a second, like instinct had slammed a hand around his throat.
> "What—"
He stopped himself, jaw tightening hard.
The distance between them collapsed one step at a time until Kairo stood close enough that Ayan could feel the heat of his body against his own fever.
Close enough that the storm outside felt like a whisper compared to the one between their lungs.
> "You're burning up." His voice was a rasp now, low and rough like gravel.
"Don't."
Ayan's hands curled against the desk edge, white-knuckled, every muscle screaming not to fold, not to give.
"Don't what?" Kairo leaned in, not touching, just breathing against his skin like smoke curling through cracks.
"Don't tell you what I already know?"
Lightning split the sky outside. Thunder rolled like a drumbeat to their silence.
Ayan's scent spiked—raw, sharp, sweet enough to gut—and Kairo's breath caught hard.
Not human.
Not normal.
Something wild and buried just ripped the leash.
And then—
The door slammed open somewhere down the hall. Voices.
The moment shattered like glass.
Kairo stepped back slow, like it took effort. His jaw was a blade, his eyes black fire.
> "Run all you want, ice prince."
He turned, shadows swallowing him whole.
"You're almost out of road."
And then he was gone, leaving Ayan braced against the desk, shaking like a sinner in church, the storm still raging inside his skin.
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