Chapter 28 Lindsay #2
Kael’s hand slides to my waist, the other curling around mine like this is some ancient rite instead of a school dance. His touch is steady. Precise. But there’s heat beneath it.
He doesn’t speak at first. Just studies me as we fall into step, like he’s cataloging every breath I take.
“You look…” He pauses, then finishes softly. “Unexpected.”
My brow arches. “That’s not quite a compliment.”
“It is,” he says. “From me.”
I snort. “Right. From the man that has played the disappearing act since you took that book for safe keeping.”
That earns the faintest flash of teeth. “I’ve been watching.”
My breath catches, and my eyes snap back to his. I shouldn’t be surprised—he always seems to be there, stepping out of the shadows like they obey him. I’m almost certain they do.
“I’m more useful in the dark,” he says with a slight edge. “And you’ve been…occupied. Training with Raiden. Research with Nolan. Preparing for tonight.”
There’s no accusation in his tone. Not exactly. But there is a thread of something beneath them.
“Sounds like someone’s been keeping tabs.” I tilt my chin up, refusing to be the first to look away. “Should I be flattered or worried?”
His mouth curves—flashing his fangs again. “Maybe both.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t quite steady my heartbeat. Not with his hand warm at my waist and his scent wrapped around me like smoke and something darker.
“You like the dress?” I ask, letting the words fall carefully, casually. Like I haven’t been thinking about it since the moment I saw the box on my bed, and I just knew who sent it.
His gaze drops, just slightly, lingering where the shadows and silk cling to my skin. “It suits you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” he agrees, eyes meeting mine again. “It’s not.”
I narrow my eyes, the spin of the dance tightening between us. “You’re not very good at this whole communication thing, are you?”
“I speak when it matters.”
“And what, this doesn’t?” I challenge. “Dropping mystery dresses on girls' beds, vanishing for days, and then showing up like you never played the disappearing act?”
A flicker—barely there—crosses his expression. Almost amusement. Almost guilt.
“You looked like you needed something to remind you of what you are.”
I blink, thrown by the softness in his voice. “And what’s that, exactly?”
He doesn’t answer right away. His fingers shift slightly at my waist, a breath of pressure that’s barely a touch.
“Not what they think you are,” he says at last. “Not what you were told. Not human.”
His words settle over me, and I push them away. I don’t want to face that right now.
“So you’re not denying it,” I say quietly. “You got me the dress.”
Kael’s mouth twitches again. “Would it matter if I did?”
“Maybe. Because then I'd have to wonder what you want from me.”
That earns a full beat of silence. The music fades behind us, or maybe it just dulls under the weight of whatever this is.
He holds my gaze for a beat longer than is strictly polite. Than is safe.
Then, quietly—too quietly—he says, “Wanting something isn’t the same as being allowed to take it.”
The words curl through me, confusing and intimate. Like a confession and a warning all at once.
I swallow. “That’s not an answer either.”
“No,” he says again. “It’s not.”
We move in silence, a few slow steps guided more by instinct than rhythm, and I hate how much I notice everything—the way his fingers flex slightly when I shift, how his chest brushes mine with each turn. How he pretends not to watch me.
“I don’t like games,” I murmur.
Kael’s lips twitch at the corner. “Then stop dancing with monsters.”
The words should scare me. Maybe they do. But I don’t let go.
I lift my chin, the corner of my mouth curling in defiance. “If the monsters are this well-dressed, I might take my chances.”
Kael’s gaze flares, and for a heartbeat, it feels like I’ve surprised him. Maybe even pleased him.
“You don’t scare easy,” he says.
“I do,” I reply, keeping my tone breezy. “I just don’t show it to guys who vanish for days and send cryptic gifts without so much as a note.”
“That would’ve ruined the mystery,” he murmurs, almost amused now.
I narrow my eyes. “You are the mystery.”
“Yet, here I am, dancing with you.”
That shouldn’t make me shiver. But it does.
“Careful,” I say, trying to pretend I’m still the one in control. “You’re starting to sound like you actually like me.”
Kael doesn’t smile. He just says quietly, “Maybe I do.”
The music swells again around us, but I barely hear it. His hand is still at my waist, his breath ghosting across my cheek. And I don’t know whether to lean in or run.
It’s not a confession. Not really. But it cracks something open inside me anyway.
My pulse stumbles. The distance between us is barely there, not even a breath. I sway closer without meaning to, drawn in like a thread tugged too tight. His eyes dip to my mouth. Just a flicker. Just long enough to make my heart riot.
I’m going to kiss him.
Or he’s going to kiss me.
Either way—
The lights flicker.
A sharp pulse of power ripples through the air. The fae lamps overhead surge with light, glowing too bright—then blink out completely.
Gasps echo across the courtyard. The music stutters to a halt.
Then there's nothing but silence.
Stillness.
And then the Veil screams.
A soundless pressure rips through my chest, twisting deep beneath my ribs. My mark flares under my skin, and Kael’s hand tightens on my waist, grounding me as the world tips sideways.
A jagged line of purple light splinters through the sky above us—thin, gleaming, and wrong. A crack in the very air. Like reality is peeling.
“Veil breach,” Kael says.
Around us, students start to panic. Some freeze. Others back away, whispering spells or clutching charms. Professors rush forward from the edges of the Revel, casting shielding wards that ripple blue and gold.
My heart is pounding now for a whole new reason. Kael moves, shifting us slightly so I’m behind him, while keeping the tear in the sky in front of him.
I grip his arm. “No. I’m not hiding.”
He glances back, eyes flicking down to where my mark glows faintly along my arm. His mouth hardens.
“Then stay close.”