Page 45 of Bound to the Dorm Elf
URGENT: Opportunity for Extra Credit
It’s from Dr. Holt, my sociology professor — the subject line peppered with enough exclamation points to make my overachiever brain twitch. I open it without thinking.
Skylar, please meet me in Classroom 204 at 8 p.m. tonight. I have an urgent opportunity for you that cannot wait until next week.
It’s weird — professors don’t usually do the wholemysterious summons at nightthing — but my first thought is a research project. Maybe even an interview offer. My second thought is, of course, that I could use the extra credit.
I don’t tell Rovax where I’m going. He’s been restless all day, like a panther pacing the edges of a too-small cage, and the last thing I need is him breathing down my neck over something that’s probably just a project pitch.
The building’s mostly dark when I get there. The hall smells faintly of old chalk dust and cleaning solution, the kind that burns your nose if you breathe too deep. My boots squeakagainst the linoleum as I head for Room 204, feeling the low hum of the fluorescent lights overhead.
The door is open a crack. I push it the rest of the way and Dr. Holt isn’t there.
Bill is.
He’s leaning against the edge of the teacher’s desk like he owns it, the overhead light catching on the hard lines of his jaw. That polite smile is back, but it’s not the kind you’d ever actually trust.
“Miss James,” he says, like we’re old friends meeting for coffee instead of a stranger-luring setup. “Thank you for coming.”
I freeze just inside the doorway. “Where’s Dr. Holt?”
“She couldn’t make it.” He gestures vaguely toward a chair in the front row. “But I thought we could talk.”
Every nerve in my body starts screamingnope.“About what?”
“About your… foreign exchange friend.” He says it casually, but the pause before the last word is deliberate, like he’s testing how I’ll react.
I try for a scoff. “If you mean Rovax, I don’t know what you think?—”
Bill cuts in smoothly. “Tall. Unusual accent. Dark hair. Eyes like he’s evaluating every exit in the room. That about cover it?”
My stomach does a slow, uneasy roll. “You’ve been watching him.”
“I’ve been noticing things,” he says, and the smile sharpens. “Like the fact that he arrived here under… unusual circumstances. And that you’ve been spending a lot of time together. That kind of connection can be… dangerous.”
I clench my hands into fists at my sides. “Dangerous for who?”
He tilts his head, studying me like I’m an equation he’s halfway through solving. “That depends. On whether you know what he is.”
My mouth goes dry. I don’t answer. Which, apparently, is an answer in itself, because Bill’s smile turns into something colder.
“You’re smart, Skylar. Smarter than most. Which is why I think you’ll understand the stakes here. People like him?—”
The door slams open hard enough to rattle the glass.
Rovax fills the doorway, his shoulders squared, his height making the room feel suddenly smaller. The glamour’s still there, but it’s… fraying. His skin looks darker than it should under the flickering fluorescent light, a faint shimmer crawling along the lines of his jaw.
His voice is low and sharp, like a blade sliding free of its sheath. “Step away from her.”
Bill straightens but doesn’t move back. “And you must be the man of the hour.”
Rovax takes a single step inside, and the air changes — heavier, charged. My heart kicks against my ribs because I can feel it even from here, the way his presence presses on the space around him.
“I don’t care what game you think you’re playing,” Rovax says, each word precise and cold. “You will leave her alone.”
Bill’s eyes flicker, just for a second, like he’s reassessing his chances in this particular match-up. He recovers fast, but I see it.
“You don’t get to set the rules here,” Bill says, voice still smooth.
