Page 50 of Bound to the Dorm Elf
She blinks, caught off guard. “That’s… kind of intense.”
I shrug one shoulder. “It’s true.”
Her gaze lingers on me, searching for the edges of the words I’m not saying. Then she leans back into me, her head finding that same place on my shoulder as if it belongs there.
We watch the moon climb higher. The cold deepens, but neither of us moves. My hand twitches once, then settles against the small of her back, fingers splayed lightly over the curve of her coat. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away.
The night stretches, the world narrowing to the rhythm of her breathing and the steady pull of the tide. I’ve fought battles that lasted days without rest, stared down blades inches from my throat without blinking.
But here, with her against me and the quiet around us, I feel… still.
CHAPTER 18
SKYLAR
By the time we’re back on campus, the buzz from the lakeshore has faded into a knot of unease in my stomach. The air is sharp, our breath puffing out in little clouds as we cross the quad. It’s late, the kind of late where even the library lights have gone out, but I’m still watching him out of the corner of my eye.
And that’s when I see it — just a flicker, like a bad camera frame. One moment his face is its usual “exchange student with intense posture” mask, and the next there’s a flash of molten red in his eyes, a faint shadow over his cheekbones that looks… wrong. Not human wrong.
“Rovax,” I hiss, glancing around to make sure we’re alone.
He stops, brows lifting like I’m being overly dramatic. “What?”
“You’re… slipping.” I point vaguely at my own face, hoping he gets it. “The glamour. It’s not holding all the time anymore.”
For a second he actually looks puzzled, like he hasn’t even noticed. Then that little half-smirk tugs at his mouth. “It’s fine. I can control it.”
“Control it?” My voice jumps higher than I mean it to. “I just saw your eyes flash like a freaking demon in the middle of the quad!”
He tilts his head, all calm authority, like I’m the one being ridiculous. “And did anyone else see?”
“No, but?—”
“Then there’s no problem.”
I stop walking, the cold seeping through my sneakers as I plant myself in front of him. “That’s not the point, Rovax. You can’t just gamble on no one noticing. If even one person sees something they can’t explain, you’re not just in trouble — we’re in trouble.”
His expression stays maddeningly neutral, but I catch the faintest twitch in his jaw. “You worry too much about the eyes of strangers,” he says. “On my world, showing what you are makes others think twice before crossing you.”
“This isn’t your world,” I snap. “Here, showing what you are gets you locked up, dissected, or—” I bite the rest off before it comes out too real.
He studies me, I guess deciding if I’m worth arguing with. “I told you,” he says finally, “I can control it.”
But it’s not confidence I hear in his voice. It’s… something else. Something heavier.
“You mean you don’t care,” I say quietly.
That makes him blink. Just once, but it’s enough. I’ve hit closer to the truth than he wanted me to.
We start walking again, slower now. My brain won’t stop chewing on the idea — that maybe it’s not about skill or magic at all. Maybe, piece by piece, he’s stopped giving a damn who sees him for what he really is.
I’m not sure if that’s because he’s getting more comfortable here… or because he’s stopped imagining a future where he needs to hide.
The echo of my sneakers on the gym’s concrete walkway is the only sound until Johnson steps out from behind the vending machines like some low-budget movie villain.
“Well, well,” he says, arms crossed, leaning just far enough forward that I smell the sour bite of energy drink on his breath. “Skylar ‘too busy’ Jameson. Or should I call you Skylar ‘mysteriously hanging out with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Alien’?”
My stomach drops, but my annoyance flares hotter. “Wow, subtle as ever. Do you lurk in shadows professionally, or is this a hobby?”
