Kael
I swallowed a sigh and turned around slowly, and came face to face with Eamon.
Our gazes met and held. His appearance had improved since the last time I saw him.
He looked better. Not like the half-starved, skittish boy I had seen before. Gone were the dirty smudges that had marked his pale skin. His blond hair, which was previously knotted, limp and badly cut, was now properly washed and brushed.
The fresh clothes helped too: a simple, oversized t-shirt and well-fitted jeans that somehow managed to look both practical and appealing.
My eyes moved to his face, noticing how his eyes—a deeper shade of green, like the spring forest after rain—met mine shyly. His nose was small, almost delicate and slightly upturned at the end. His lips were unusually soft-looking and carried a natural tint of pink that seemed almost…
I cleared my throat and finally averted my gaze. What was wrong with me? Since when did I waste time on such trivial observations?
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"I, um… I came to thank you for saving me yesterday. My brother Slater just told me what you did. I-I didn't know. About Marcus. And I wanted you to know how grateful I am that you've been looking out for me."
He extended the coffee cup to me, holding it with both hands. "It's just coffee. But consider it a token of my gratitude."
I stared at the offered cup, then looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. "A cup of coffee?" I scoffed. "For saving you from bullying from your stepbrother and risking my entire status here in the academy by going head-to-head with the Student President? And all I get is coffee?"
His face turned bright red with embarrassment, the colour spreading across his cheeks in a way that I found myself tracking with unwanted fascination.
"This is all I can afford right now," he whispered. "I have very limited funds, and I can't exactly splurge, but in the future, I hope I can buy you a proper expensive meal to show my appreciation."
"How?" I asked dryly. "Are you planning to steal for that? And then expect me to save you from those consequences, too?"
"No! No, of course not. I would never," he said quickly.
Then, in a quick, almost desperate movement that caught me completely off guard, I watched as he unfastened a golden bracelet from his wrist and thrust it toward me with trembling hands.
"This is the most expensive thing I own," he said breathlessly. "But you can have it, so you know my intentions are sincere. I'm not trying to take advantage of your kindness."
Silence stretched between us. I found myself noticing more unnecessary details about him: the way his lips trembled slightly with anxiety, the nervous way he shifted his weight from one foot to another, and the genuine distress in his expression.
The boy's body language screamed of someone who was accustomed to receiving little or no kindness from anyone, and when it came, he believed it must be repaid.
I looked away.
"I don't take my coffee like that," I said dismissively. "I prefer it black."
Eamon blinked and straightened immediately. "I'm sorry—I'll go get you another one then," he said and was already turning toward the door.
Classic response of someone who has suffered from a constant period of both physical and emotional abuse. The constant apology, the urge to always fix things that didn't need to be fixed… despite how bold he seemed, Eamon didn't come from a place where small acts of kindness were prevalent.
I watched him start hurrying to the door, but something-some impulse I couldn't name or understand—made me reach out and catch his arm. My intention was to stop him from going, but I underestimated the brute of my strength, and in the next instant, Eamon was pressed against my chest, his eyes wide with surprise as they stared up at me.
For a few seconds that felt like an eternity, we stood frozen in that position. I was painfully aware of the warmth radiating from the body against mine, the faint scent that had intrigued me from the beginning filling my nostrils. Within me, Black was prancing around with excitement, and it didn't help that Eamon's lips were slightly parted in shock.
My heart thudded loudly, and for a split second, I couldn't look away from his face and somewhere at the back of my mind, I didn't want this to end.
What the hell was happening to me?
I quickly stepped back, snatching the coffee from his hand and pushing him aside with more force than was necessary. I took a long sip of the coffee, wincing at the sugary taste, but I swallowed it anyway, anything to help me ground myself.
Just then, the orientation hall doors opened again, and Rhett Thatcher entered carrying a small wicker basket. When he spotted Eamon standing next to me, his hazel eyes narrowed at me before he rushed forward.
"Eamon? There you are. Slater said I'd find you here. Is he causing you any trouble?" Rhett asked.
"No, no," Eamon said quickly with a gentle smile. "Everything's fine."
Rhett didn't look convinced. He turned Eamon to face him, studying the boy's face and scanning the length of his body as if he were a doctor. After a moment, he relaxed.
"I'm glad you're okay, but you must promise me…" Rhett paused.
"Promise you what?" Eamon asked, slightly puzzled.
"That you would never go anywhere without either Kael, me or your brother nearby. We were the only students from our set, the Student President avoids, and that's the only thing keeping you protected right now."
I hissed. "Don't involve me in whatever little delusion you have, Thatcher. I'm not his bodyguard."
Rhett ignored me completely, turning back to Eamon with his characteristic warm smile. "Don't be afraid of Kael. Underneath that cold shell, he's a really sweet person. He doesn't like sdoesn'tit."
I shot him a"withering look, but before I could respond, Rhett was already gesturing toward the basket he carried, which he had set on the floor a while ago.
"We have about fifteen more minutes before the orientation exercise starts, let's eat first."
Without waiting for my agreement, he was already dragging Eamon with him to one of the tables scattered around the hall. Eamon sat beside Rhett and directly across from me.
Rhett's basketRhett's out to contain an assortment of pastries, fruit and what looked like expensive imported tea. At the academy, he had his own private chef and live-in maids. Despite how carefree he looked, he hated eating alone.
As we ate in relative silence, I found my gaze drifting to Eamon again. He was handling the food more gracefully than an average boy would. The way he chewed thoughtfully, as if he was savouring each bite. And those lips…
"Why are your lips so pink?" The question slipped out of my mouth before I could stop myself.
Both Rhett and Eamon froze as they exchanged a surprised look among themselves. Then Eamon carefully set down his pastry, touching his lips before looking directly at me.
"I was born th"s way," he said soft"y.
My eyes shifted to Rhett, who was watching me with an amused expression. That was when I realized the question must have implied another meaning.
Heat crept up my neck as I processed the implications of what I'd just asked—and more importantly, why I'd been staring at another boy's lips long enough to notice their colour?
I stood up abruptly, wishing I could wipe the smirk off Rhett's face.
"Clean up when"you're finisheyou'resaid curtl". "The orientati"n exercises begin in ten minutes, and I won't toleratewon'tness.
As I walked away, I tried to push down the uncomfortable realisation that was growing in my mind from the master's messenger earlier.
That's called That'stion. The fact that you notice something as specific as his scent should tell you everything you need to know.
But that was impossible. I didn't get disdidn'td by personal attractions. I could make decisions without letting my emotions cloud my judgment.
So why couldn't I stocouldn'tng about his eyes and soft pink lips?
And why did the thought of Eamon being in danger trigger my protective and possessive instinct?
Plus, my wolf, Black, was sending a lot of mixed signals to me, which I didn't understand.
Behind me, I could hear Rhett's warm laughter mixing with Eamon's quieter responses, and I found myself listening for the sound of that particular voice.
This was a problem. A deviation from my mission could compromise everything I'd worked forI'dut I knew it was simply because I didn't believedidn'the was Slater's stepbrother.
It's got to be it.