Page 11 of Beasts of Shadows #1

“Come now, Harper,” he murmurs. “You can’t tell me you’re not curious. A contest. Not for marks or medals. For something real. Blood. Breath. What’s left after pride burns away.”

Reema has gone still again.

“Is this an actual duel?” I ask, wary. “Like… sanctioned?”

He smiles slowly, like I’ve gifted him something.

“Delightfully old school. Let’s call it Bonfire Night tradition. You and me.”

“Hells to the no,” Cat blurts, grabbing my wrist.

But I don’t move. My bones lock into place. Rooted. Ready. Maybe I’m reckless—or maybe I’m just tired of letting men like him rewrite the rules.

“If I win?” I ask.

“Nari—,” Reema hisses.

“We could settle this now,” I say, ignoring her. The idea flares like oxygen in my chest. Let him underestimate me. Let him think I’m soft. Then I’ll gut the myth of him and salt the ashes.

Nikolai’s smile falters—for the first time. Just for a beat.

“He wouldn’t dare,” Reema says. “Fatal combat outside the full moon has consequences.”

“But it’s totally fine for them to try and kill us in the middle of the night?” I snap.

My fists tighten. In—seven seconds. Out—eleven. Don’t throw the first punch unless you’re ready to end it.

His eyes never leave mine. Not mocking now. Not amused. Something slower. Deeper.

“If I win,” he says softly, “you’ll belong to me.”

“You mean a slave.”

“No,” he murmurs. “You’d be… mine. Indebted, yes. But not chained. I don’t break things I value.”

That lands wrong. Or right. I don’t know. I hate that I want to know what it means.

“And if I win?” I ask, voice steadier than I feel.

He bows slightly, a dark courtier.

“Then I’ll bow. I’ll bleed. I’ll obey.”

My pulse skips. He says it like a vow, not a threat. And his smile when he sees my reaction—it’s poison-wrapped honey.

“You’d bind yourself to me?” I ask.

“If you can beat me ? I wouldn’t have a choice.”

My breath catches.

I should walk away. I should. I should laugh in his face and call him the unhinged nephilim he is.

But in a place like this—where monsters hide behind pretty faces and half the school would rather see me dead than graduated—a bound creature like Nikolai?

At least I’d have power over something. Someone. Just once.

Might not be the worst thing.

“I’ll think about it,” I say.

He smirks. “Don’t think too long. Bonfire Night comes fast.”

Then he vanishes into the crowd, leaving a dozen new questions… and a knot of fire burning in my chest.

I don’t realize how tight my fists are until Cat pries one open.

“You’re not actually thinking about binding him to you, are you?” she mutters. “That’s not a power move. That’s a death wish.”

But I don’t answer. I can’t. Because part of me is.

∞∞∞

The door to the common room creaks open.

Reema strides in, balancing a stack of folders and a binder stuffed with hand-colored diagrams. Her satchel’s sliding off one shoulder, and there’s a crease between her brows that says “don’t talk to me unless it’s life or death.

” Her hair’s pinned in its glossy ponytail that somehow hasn’t moved despite what looks like a full day buried in books.

She spots me and makes a beeline for the couch, dropping her materials on the table with a soft thump.

“The cataloging system in the east wing is still a disaster,” she mutters, smoothing her skirt as she sits.

“I spent twenty minutes looking for one entry on shadowborne muscular reflex patterns. It was misfiled under ‘Cursed Beasts.’ Honestly.”

She flips open her binder and scans the pages like she’s memorizing them by osmosis. “Here. If the bogeys give you a hard time again. Don’t aim for center mass. Shadows don’t even register that kind of hit unless you’re using divine steel.”

She flips to a page and nudges it toward me. It’s covered in highlighter and precise annotations in her tidy handwriting.

“Go for the throat or the upper thigh. Sever the right muscle and you’ll drop them fast.”

I nod, but I’m not really looking. My thoughts are elsewhere.

“And Sumner? Any idea who he is and why he wanted me dead?”

“The first part’s easy to answer. He only works with upper years—students on advanced tracks. Strategy, operations, sometimes live missions. He’s…eclectic. Doesn’t venture out from the training compound often.”

“Is that normal?” I ask.

She gives a dry smile. “Nothing here is normal. Some people think he sleeps under the War Room and only comes up when someone’s failed hard enough to need a cautionary tale.”

Her voice lowers a notch. “But no, you’re not supposed to see him. It’s odd that he would even know who you are. It’s possible the bogeys mistook you for someone else.”

I shift. I doubt that, though I don’t see the point in arguing.

Reema doesn’t push. She reopens her binder and slides a new page toward me.

“Well.” She hands me a pen. “You can spiral over cryptic professors later. For now, you’ve got two creature types left to memorize, and Cat would have my neck if I let you fail simply because you can’t tell the difference between a frostshade and a nightcleaver. We need to get you out of last place.

“Come on. Page fifty-four.”