I've never been a fan of loud music.
The bass from the fresher's party thudded against my skull like a war drum, making the drink in my glass vibrate. Still, I poured it down my throat, one shot after another, as if the burn might drown the storm inside me.
Ruan's little toy-- my so-called fate holder --hadn't arrived yet. But the cursed tug on my ring finger told me she was close. Closer than I wanted.
I drank again. Bitter. Didn't care. Drank again anyway.
And then she walked in.
Serie Winston...
Beautifully gorgeous....!!
A black bodycon dress clinging to her curves, the faintest hint of cleavage, her collarbones bare like ivory under the club lights.
Green eyes shimmering like a challenge across the room.
I didn't want to look.
But the bond didn't care.
It yanked my gaze to her like a chain wrapped around my neck. My jaw clenched. My stomach twisted...
I hated it. Hated her. Or maybe hated myself...
Gods !! maybe I was drunk.. Maybe that's why it felt like this....like I wanted to reach for her right now, pull her close, never let go.
Insanity...
She paused at the entrance, just a heartbeat, like something had tugged at her too. Then her friends swept her off toward the food table, occupying a corner far from the crowd.
All I could see now was her bare back, the long fall of her dark brown hair gleaming under the lights.
Ruan slid into the seat next to me, grinning like always. "Hey, I know what you're thinking. This is our time. There she is…"
I knew what he wanted to do. But right now, with the drink and the bond twisting inside me, I couldn't. I needed distraction, not another reminder.
"You go," I muttered, swallowing another mouthful. "I'm drunk. Not in the mood."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah!" Then his gaze shifted across the room and he smirked.
"Your so-called girlfriend's here. Now enjoy."
I frowned. "What?"
"Erina !!..."
My stomach sank. "Oh f**k!! No..., You know she's not..."
Ruan grinned wider. "I don't know, bro. Maybe your future wife then."
"Shut up,"
I said, but he was already on his feet, sauntering toward Serie.
And Erina was right there, standing in front of my table.
"Hey, Kael "
she said softly, her perfume cutting through the stink of alcohol...
"You didn't reply to my messages. I thought we'd come together tonight."
I rubbed my temple. "I was busy...Training."
My eyes betrayed me again, sliding past her shoulder to the corner where Serie sat. Ruan was leaning over her now, saying something too low to catch.
She didn't flinch, but I could feel her fear even from here.
Erina tugged at my hand.
"Let's dance."
I didn't answer...
I needed distraction, anything to kill the burn in my chest.
Erina was the daughter of Walter--the man who wanted me chained to his family.
We'd known each other since we were kids. She wanted me... I didn't.
But when she tugged again, I stood.
Her hand slid into mine. My fingers closed around hers. The bond on my ring finger pulsed. Serie's eyes flicked up across the room, catching me in the act.
For the briefest second, something flickered there--
anger, jealousy, pain? Impossible. She couldn't feel this bond.
I hardened my expression, forcing my gaze back to Erina.
I led her to the dance floor.
Her hands on my shoulders, my hand on her waist. We swayed to the beat, bodies close.
I could feel Serie's stare burning into my back.
I could feel my own pulse answering it, hating myself for it.
Ruan had moved in front of her now, blocking her view, leaning close to whisper in her ear.
My chest burned hotter.
My fingers tightened on Erina's waist without thinking.
"Kael.. ouch!" she hissed, flinching.
I loosened my grip. "Sorry."
Serie's eyes found us again as Ruan stepped aside.
She was watching. She was angry. I could feel it like a pulse through the thread.
And then she turned sharply, stood, and left the party.
Something in me snapped...
I dropped Erina's hand without a word, slipping off the dance floor and into the crowd, letting the shadows swallow me.
Outside, the night air hit my face like a slap. Serie's figure moved ahead, disappearing into the dark path leading away from the hall.
The bond pulsed once, twice. Hotter. Louder...
And before I could stop myself, I followed.
She stood in front of the fruit shop, phone lit in her hand, fingers moving like a small, nervous animal. The mutter of the party was already far behind me, a dull drum.
Out here the night air bit. I should have turned back to the pub, to another glass, another numbing burn.
I wanted to drown the tug. I wanted to stop feeling her.
But my feet wouldn't move...
A first-year boy walked up too polite, too bright, the kind of smile that thinks the world owes him nothing and everything. He started talking to her.
My stomach turned. He laughed at something she said. She laughed back. The sound hit me like a stone.
I felt disgust before I understood why.....
I almost walked into the street, into the neon blur, to force myself to forget. Instead I melted into shadow.
Creating a shadow-bike is easy. The trick is not to feel it as an artifice...to be it. The dark around me thickened, took shape under my will.
A bike, black as empty sky, hummed into being. I rode it soundless, a phantom among late-night shoppers. Shadow lets you be where they can't see.
It lets you watch and take the edge off burning things that still hurt.
They stepped into a car that was not there a moment before
summoned by boy-magic. Smooth leather, quiet engine. I knew at once: trustee blood.
David..
She hesitated only half a breath before climbing in.
That half-second felt like a knife. I didn't mean to, but my hand twitched. The thread tugged, a snare in my chest. I'd sworn I wouldn't let it show. I hadn't planned on feeling her like a live wire through my skin.
The pull was sudden and sharp.
I saw it.
She rubbed his finger with a tiny, automatic motion. The movement was so small I almost missed it. But the thread flared.
Not in me .... in her.
She felt it..
How?
My mind tried to catalogue reasons. Maybe she'd manifested in some little way I didn't understand. Maybe the University wards made rudimentary bonds visible. Maybe..Gods!! ..maybe the bond was different than I thought.
Questions slammed into the edge of panic. I didn't have time for questions.
The shadow-bike ate the distance. I followed them until the city swallowed the car's tail-lights.
My body settled back into human skin two streets from the dorm. Shadow is fast, but you can't stay ghost long, the more you use it, the hungrier it gets. I folded the darkness back into myself, breath loud in my throat like a traitor.
They parked. The boy helped her out with a gentlemanly flair I wanted to rip off.
She walked toward the dorm in the careless way of someone who doesn't know the woods are full of traps.
When they separated to different ways my head almost cleared enough to think straight.
No guy was supposed to be allowed inside south wings girls' room -- Rules. Protocol.
I moved then. Not as shadow now, but as something colder. I slowed my breath, hid behind new angles, and climbed up to her window the way only someone who can fold into shadow knows how: quiet as dusk, hands sure. I slipped through the half-open pane.
Her room no.75
small, not guarded, personal. Books tossed on the floor, a mug half-full on the desk. The bed was unmade in a way that said she didn't bother with order when the world was loud.
It made my chest tighten in a way that was ridiculous and stupid.
I laughed once, low and sharp: the sound of a hunter who hates what he's stalking.
"Weakling !!"
I said aloud, to the empty air..
The word tasted like iron. I stepped to her desk, tore a page free from a notebook, and wrote. The message I put down was simple, ugly:
I warned you before. You still had the guts to come here to see the hell of your life, Serie!! Seriously? -- what a dumb fool. Now get ready to burn..
My hand hesitated.
For a second the room smelled like her shampoo and the city rain and a dozen tiny things that were not mine but made me want to smash things.
The thread pulsed, small and steady, iron-hot beneath my skin, as if it heard my cowardice and mocked it.
I folded the note, I set it on her desk, right where she couldn't miss it.
Footsteps in the corridor hit the boards like a drum. Her approach.
The thread on my ring finger pulsed, tiny and impossible to ignore. I could feel her even before the handle turned.
I didn't wait to watch her face when she read it. I didn't want to see the fear or the questions or whatever soft thing might crawl out of her eyes.
I wanted distance.
I hooked my fingers on the windowsill, felt the cool stone under my palms, and pushed off.
The shadow-bike unfurled beneath me like smoke obeying a command. I slipped into the dark, into everything I'd made myself be.
Behind me, the dorm light clicked on. Somewhere in the room, the paper might shift. The threat sat where I put it --
a promise and a lie, both waiting for her to open them.
I hit the street and melted into night.