Chapter 15 #3
Dawson’s gaze moved deliberately, tracing the curve of her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, lingering on her lips before snapping back to meet hers.
Her throat suddenly felt as dry as the Scorched Marsh.
His hand shifted, barely a movement, but her pulse jumped.
She froze. Her breath caught somewhere between her ribs, every nerve ending on edge.
The whisper of his fingers against her knuckles was so faint it might’ve been a butterfly’s wing. But it sent a jolt through her, spreading warmth in its wake and stirring something deep within a part of her she guarded fiercely.
Then, in the center of her chest, she felt an indescribable pull—pushing, tipping her toward the celestial.
Dawson’s hand shot out, gripped her waist to steady her.
She tried to ignore it. But the longer she resisted, the more the pull ached and burned.
Taking a step in the opposite direction felt like walking against an unrelenting tide tugging her toward Beck.
What was happening?
Then the pull shifted, dragging her flush against Dawson.
Her fingers flexed at her sides as frustration swelled. Somehow, Alaire knew it was trying to tell her she needed Dawson. It was instinctive. Unexplainable. Undeniable.
You would force me to need his help, wouldn’t you?
Dawson’s gaze flicked between her and Beck, his head tilting slightly as he tried to piece together the situation. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, waiting.
Alaire bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to ask him for anything. But she couldn’t ignore the pull or what it was trying to tell her. Finally, she exhaled sharply, shoving her pride aside.
“So… partner,” she began, the word dripping with reluctant sarcasm, “remember how you said you wanted to help? I need to cash in on that offer.”
His dark brows shot up, a flicker of intrigue and exasperation crossing his face. “Already?” His fingers tapped along the seams of his leathers. “Why am I not surprised? Alright, what do you need?”
Alaire crossed her arms, shifting her weight as if bracing herself. “I need you to fly me somewhere… I think.”
Dawson blinked. “You what ?” he asked incredulously. “Fly you? To where, exactly?”
“Well, see, that’s the interesting part—I’m not quite sure.” She summarized the odd, indescribable feeling pulsing in her chest, and how, for whatever reason, she knew flying was what she needed to do.
“Let me get this straight,” he said slowly. “You think this pull is directing you toward Beck, and that we’re supposed to fly wherever it wants to take us.”
“Essentially, yes. I know it sounds absurd,” Alaire admitted, absently twisting a loose strand of hair between her fingers. Her gaze flicked to the towering flowers surrounding them.
Dawson let out a sharp breath. He crossed his arms over his chest, forearm muscles flexing?—
Which she absolutely did not notice.
“Alright,” he muttered, resigned. Then, with a pointed glance, he added, “But you can’t go like that.” He gestured to her with a quick sweep of his hand, taking in her outfit.
Her brow shot up, hands flying to her hips. “Why not?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re wearing a skirt,” he replied, voice strained. “It’s not practical for flying. And it’s cold up there. You’ll need to be… covered up.”
Alaire’s lips twitched as she leaned slightly closer, her voice dropping to a teasing lilt. “Are you sure it’s not my bare skin bothering you?”
His face twisted as he stared over her shoulder at the atrium, clearly searching for an escape. “It’s not?—”
“I’m kidding,” she interrupted, unable to hide her grin. “Lighten up, Dawson.” Watching his composure falter brought her such unfiltered joy. “I’ll tell Kaia I’m heading back to my room and change into my leathers. Where should I meet you?”
His attention snapped back to her, sharp and focused. “In front of the Serenity Gardens.” His tone was clipped—back to business—but his eyes lingered on her for a beat longer than necessary.
“I’ll be sure to be properly covered up this time,” she quipped, tossing him an exaggerated wink.
Dawson rubbed his temples. “You’re impossible.”
Before she exited the wildflower maze, she glanced over her shoulder. Dawson had leaned his forehead against Beck’s.
It was a quiet, intimate moment between flier and celestial—one she felt like she was intruding on. Slowly, she backed away, allowing them their moment.
The party had long since lost its luster.
The girl who’d lost herself in the beat of the music felt like a lifetime ago.
Alaire found Kaia and let her know she was heading back to the dorms. Kaia offered to come with her, but Alaire declined.
Her friend’s eyes sparkled with mischief when she mentioned Dawson.
“You have to tell me everything tomorrow,” Kaia teased, her grin wide.
Retreating into the solace of the night, Alaire inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air steady her. Above, the stars glimmered, their light spilling across the path back to the castle. The pull had quieted, as if appeased by her decision.
Back in her room, she swapped her skirt for leathers, braiding her hair with steady hands despite the unease twisting in her chest.
Her boots echoed softly against the stone as she approached the Serenity Gardens. Dawson was already there, his dark silhouette sharp against the pale glow of moonlight.
The weight of what lay ahead pressed against her chest. She couldn’t tell if it was fear—or something far more dangerous.