Chapter Thirty-Two #3
What the hell is happening right now? She couldn’t even name what she was feeling.
Fear, maybe. Confusion. Awe. A strange, hollow pressure just beneath her ribs, like something had shifted without asking permission.
Her emotions slid past one another too quickly to grab onto, leaving her breath shallow and uneven.
Her mind drifted, unbidden, to Emmett. He found his mate.
Just… like that. As if the universe had tapped him on the shoulder and said here.
And now Celie would be able feel him, his emotions, his reactions, the way his heart moved through the world.
How was Anabelle supposed to explain any of this to him?
To explain that some bonds were shared, some weren’t, that some people felt everything and others felt nothing at all?
Gods, this was complicated. Too complicated. She missed him suddenly, sharply. Missed the ease of talking to him, the way he grounded her without even trying. The ache surprised her with its intensity, swelling behind her sternum until it felt like it might spill over.
And then, the memory rose without warning. The day Kat told her about the marks, and what she had tried to push away to the back of her mind. The one she’d tried not to think about too closely. The one on her inner thigh.
Her stomach dropped. If Emmett’s mark was a bond mark…
Gods.
Her breath hitched, the room tilting just slightly on its axis. Panic surged, hot and fast, flooding her veins before she could stop it. Her heart began to race, each beat loud in her ears, drowning out Liora’s voice, the scrape of chairs, the soft murmurs of the classroom.
Dominik leaned closer, his voice low, urgent. “Ani… are you okay?”
She nodded too quickly. “Yeah,” she lied. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t.
Her thoughts spun tighter and tighter, tangling in on themselves. Does this mean I have a soulmate out there? Or...oh gods...like Kat? Multiple soulmates? The idea made her chest constrict. She wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t ready for any of this.
What if they’re awful? What if they don’t like her? What if she doesn’t like them? The questions stacked, relentless, until something inside her slipped.
She felt it before she saw it, the rush, the sudden loss of grip.
Ether flared, sharp and uncontrolled, responding faster than thought just like she’d been taught that morning.
Her books lifted off the desk, pages fluttering wildly.
Pencils shot outward, clattering and skidding across the room as gasps erupted around her. The sound snapped her back.
Dominik was already half out of his seat, eyes locked on her, worry etched deep into his expression.
“Anabelle,” he whispered urgently, leaning in close.
“I know you’re overwhelmed. I can see you’re panicking about something in that beautiful mind of yours, but you need to rein it in.
” His jaw tightened. “They’re watching.”
Her breath caught. She followed his gaze and looked back. At the monitor. Mounted high on the back wall, its dark lens angled perfectly toward the classroom. Toward her.
Oh gods. Her blood ran cold as the reality sank in. She wasn’t just a student here. She wasn’t just learning. She was being observed, far more closely than she’d realized. And whatever was happening to her? They were already taking notes.
Anabelle swallowed hard and forced her hands to still against the edge of the desk. Her fingers trembled, but she curled them into her palms, nails biting just enough to anchor her back into her body.
Breathe. In. Out. She focused on Dominik’s presence beside her, the solid warmth of his shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest. He didn’t touch her again, not with the monitor watching, but he shifted closer, just enough that she could feel him there. Grounding. Intentional.
The scattered pencils were already being collected by quiet hands across the room. No one said anything, but she could feel the attention anyway, a subtle pressure pressing in from all sides. Curious. Wary. Measuring.
Liora cleared her throat at the front of the class. “Let’s all take a moment,” she said calmly, her tone smooth and practiced. “Loss of control happens, especially early on. That’s why we’re here.”
Her gaze flicked, just briefly, to the back of the room, then returned to Anabelle. Not sharp. Not angry. But knowing. Anabelle’s face burned. She nodded once, muttering a quiet apology that felt too small for the storm still raging inside her.
Ether responds faster than thought, she reminded herself bitterly. Gods, they hadn’t been kidding.
As Liora resumed the lecture, Anabelle kept her eyes fixed on the desk, afraid that if she looked at the board again her mind would spiral right back to marks and bonds and futures she wasn’t ready to face. Her heartbeat slowly began to settle, though the tension never fully left her body.
Dominik leaned in just enough to murmur, “You did good. You pulled it back.”
She shook her head slightly. “Barely.”
“Barely is still enough,” he said, firm but gentle. “For now.”
Her throat tightened at that...for now. Because she knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.