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54

Summer

“ S o, Carmelina is sleeping with Joylee and Henderson?” Connor asks, his gaze firmly glued to the laptop screen.

I may end up regretting this. After Connor and I feasted on one another, enjoying our dessert first, we curled up in bed to eat dinner. I just pulled up the show that Alice likes for some background noise, but Connor took to it like duck to water and is already completely invested.

“I think so, but Carmelina is also sleeping with her stepsister, Hilly.”

Connor blinks. “How does she have the time?”

I scoff. “Please, I know all about your player history, Connor Morningstar, so-called angel.”

Connor sputters, finally dragging his attention away from the screen. “Excuse me. I was not a player. I just enjoyed…”

My lips twitch as I wait for him to continue, enjoying watching him struggle to justify his slutty, slutty past. I burst out laughing as I watch him scramble. “Chill out, Con. I’m joking.”

Connor narrows his eyes at me, pouting his lips in that insanely adorable way he does. I’m still laughing as I climb out of bed and pull on my silk robe. I collect the takeout containers and take them into the kitchen. Noticing that the trash can is full, I decide to take it out now instead of putting off the grim job until morning when it’ll smell worse, and I’ll be even less inclined to do it.

I tighten the ties of my robe, grab the trash bag, and slip quietly out of the dorm. The quad is eerily beautiful at night. The street lamps cast white, almost magical puddles on the path, but I find the shadows thriving between the pools of light infinitely more interesting. I start down the small sidewalk, heading for the communal trash cans around the back of Kelpie. There is the slightest hint of a breeze, but apart from that, the night is calm and cool, making it all the more startling when something brushes a lock of my hair from my forehead. Startled, I yelp and jump, throwing the garbage bag into the air and scattering trash everywhere.

There is a slight shift in the air, something as casual as the brush of a stranger’s hand as you pass by. Slowly, the trash disappears from view, disintegrating to nothing before my eyes.

I am not alone. I am not alone. I am not alone.

I feel the start of a shiver trickling down my spine. I slowly lift my hand, reaching forward as I did in the school corridor. My breath catches in my throat when my fingers meet hard muscles, and I can feel a faint, steady thud of a beating heart.

I tilt my head, and the being becomes a little less translucent, a solid piece of the shadows detaching from the night. He is still barely visible, but I can definitely see an outline. It’s definitely a male. His shoulders are broad, and even in this form, I can tell how muscular he is. As my eyes roam his silhouette, I feel his heart beat a little faster. My gaze flicks up, locating the outline of his head and focusing on where I imagine his eyes would be. I’m once again surprised at how at ease I feel, especially given the circumstances.

“You’re back,” I say, my voice soft. He lifts his arm slowly, as if trying not to spook me, and carefully wraps his hand around my wrist. His touch feels like a cool breeze against my skin, but I can faintly feel the calluses on his palm and fingers. He lifts my hand and gently presses my palm to his cheek. He nods, finding a way to communicate with me even in this form. Can he not always talk? It does take a tremendous amount of power to do so, but he could do it the other day.

I slowly lower my hand, my fingers brushing against his mostly translucent form. “H-hi,” I stutter out, looking up at him.

I should be running. Why am I not running?

He tilts his head, watching me. I can’t see his eyes, but I can feel them fixed on me. Occasionally, his form flickers in the shadows, integrating with them. There is something so familiar about the feel of his gaze but also so foreign, and I stare at him as I try to sort through my thoughts. My gut instinct tells me I don’t need to run, which makes no sense. There is a murderer on the loose who seems desperate to hack me to pieces and a fae hunter from my past, desperate to find and weaponize me. Yet here I am, standing with the fucking blustery Bigfoot. Okay, that’s a bit harsh. He seems to be a good deal less hairy than Bigfoot.

So, while my instincts aren’t screaming at me to run, I can’t put my finger on why, and that is infinitely scarier. Could this be a ruse? A trick? A spell? I sort through the possibilities, trying to think of any runes that might have the power to grant the wearer the ability to twist another’s thoughts, feelings, and worries, but I keep coming up empty. All I can think of are runes to make myself more fearless, which I certainly have not used on myself. I make enough bad decisions without adding faux recklessness into the mix.

I back up a step, wanting to see what he will do, but he just continues to watch me. At least, I think he’s watching. I can feel those eyes on me, but there is something unnerving about not being able to see them. While my face heats under the alleged scrutiny of the stranger, I can’t tell where he’s focusing his attention. I back up again, still not feeling that fight-or-flight response, but simply forced survival instincts. While I don’t feel like I’m in danger, there is no disputing that I’m in a vulnerable position. If anything, my lack of reaction is causing me more concern than the actual shadow male standing four feet away from me.

I take another step back, and another until my back hits the door of my dorm, and I hurry inside. Once within the safety of Kelpie Hall, the instincts I was waiting for finally kick-in, and my heart pounds in my chest. I pant and lean against the door.

Fuck.

I turn, peeking through the peephole, but see nothing there. Even the breeze seems to have stilled. I press my back against the door and close my eyes, taking a moment to consider what the fuck just happened.