Chapter 2-Sten
I couldn’t stop the laugh.
Low. Quiet. Unintended.
It slipped out anyway as I watched her.
The curvy little Witch stood just outside the lecture hall, clutching that ridiculous parchment like it might rearrange itself if she stared hard enough.
Her lips moved as she read, brow furrowed, shoulders drawn inward like she was bracing for impact.
Gods.
Franco had done it again.
Professor Alfonso Renaldi Franco, Master of Astronomy and self-proclaimed architect of celestial romance, had just handed another desperate student his infamous extra credit assignment.
A love quest.
At a graduate institute built on intersecting ley lines and unstable magic.
Brilliant.
Absolutely unhinged.
And yet, entirely on brand.
I leaned back against the cold stone column, folding my arms as I watched her read it again.
The aurora glow from the high arched windows cast shifting light across her face, catching in her eyes, illuminating the slow horror settling there.
She didn’t belong in that moment.
Not because she was weak.
Because she was honest.
And Runevald did not reward honesty.
It devoured it.
I could chart celestial paths through collapsed realms with my eyes closed.
I could map the movement of constellations across dimensional planes without lifting a pen.
It was instinct.
Inheritance.
Burden.
If my control didn’t slip, I could do my fucking job and be done with this place.
If it did—well then that would be that.
Black holes weren’t theoretical in my case.
They were reality.
Incidents with severe consequences.
I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand across my jaw as I watched her shift her weight, still reading, still trying to understand something she clearly didn’t believe in.
And yet—she hadn’t walked away.
That was what caught my attention.
Not the curves.
Well, not her curves at first.
Though to be clear—they did not go unnoticed.
Not even close.
The Witch had a body that demanded attention whether she wanted it or not.
Soft where others were sharp.
Full where others carved themselves down to fit whatever ideal they chased.
Ass that curved like sin.
Thighs that pressed together when she walked.
A softness that would wreck a man if he wasn’t careful.
And I was not careful.
Not tonight.
Because it wasn’t just the physical I found so appealing about her.
It was just her.
The way she tried to disappear into spaces that refused to hide her.
The way she folded herself inward in lecture halls, hunched over her notes, doodling in the margins when she thought no one was looking.
I noticed.
I always noticed.
Because I did the same thing.
Stayed to the edges.
Stayed unseen.
The difference?
I chose it.
But her? She endured it.
And, for some reason, that mattered.
In class, she never lied when called out.
Never deflected.
Never spun some clever excuse to cover her lack of attention.
She simply… admitted it.
“Yes, Professor. I wasn’t listening.”
Calm.
Blunt.
Honest.
And the room would snicker.
Every fucking time.
I hated that.
More than I should have.
If those ancient, dust-choked lecturers wanted attention, they could earn it.
Command it.
Demand it.
Not drone until even the gods would have tuned them out.
But her?
She sat there and took it.
Owned it.
Apologized for it.
And that right there?
That was where my interest began.
Not mere curiosity.
Recognition.
Dangerous in its own way.
No.
A voice slid through my mind—sharp, familiar, unwelcome.
Don’t.
I stilled.
Jaw tightening.
Once—once, I might have followed that instinct.
Might have stepped forward.
Spoken.
Taken the risk.
Now?
Now I knew better.
My power was unstable.
Volatile.
A threat not just to myself, but to the structure of the realms themselves.
A misstep.
A lapse.
And I could tear a hole through reality wide enough to swallow entire worlds.
Not a metaphor.
Not an exaggeration.
This was a fact.
And the only thing that could stabilize it was a mate.
I exhaled sharply, pushing away from the column.
No, I would not think about that.
Not here.
Not now.
Not her.
Because that path led to one conclusion.
A claiming.
A bond.
A tether strong enough to ground something as chaotic as lunar power.
And I had already made my decision.
I would not subject anyone to that.
Not again.
Not after—I cut that thought off too.
Hard.
Brutal.
Final.
Because if I lingered there—I would remember.
And remembering was a luxury I could no longer afford.
Especially not when the alternative waiting for me was far worse.
The binding ceremony.
A slow, deliberate severing of everything that made me what I was.
Power drained.
Connection cut.
Life extinguished piece by piece until nothing remained.
A mercy.
That is what they called it.
I called it an execution.
There’s still time to find her.
The thought whispered again.
Hope filled me, and I grimaced.
Foolish.
Unwelcome.
Dangerous.
I crushed it.
Because hope led to expectation.
Expectation led to failure.
And failure—failure would cost more than my life.
My gaze flicked back to her.
Still reading.
Still trying to comprehend what the professor was asking of her.
Still here.
A soft, fleeting thing.
A butterfly.
And I—I was the night.
She would not survive me.
Would not survive what I would become.
So I would stay away.
Simple.
Logical.
Necessary.
“Sten.”
The voice cut through my thoughts.
Deep.
Gravel-edged.
Familiar.
I turned.
The Draugr approached, his presence shifting the air around him in ways most failed to notice. Power clung to him now—different than before.
Quieter.
But no less dangerous.
“Draugr,” I returned.
We did not speak often.
We did not need to.
Shared ancestry carried its own understanding.
He knew what I was.
And I knew what he had nearly become.
Until—my gaze shifted.
Followed the line of his body to where his hand rested.
On her.
A small, dark-haired female—human, but not—stood at his side, her fingers threaded through his like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Like he wasn’t a creature built from hunger and death.
Like he wasn’t—holy shit.
“What the fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
“This is Serena,” he said. “My mate.”
Mate.
The word hit like a strike.
Final.
Irrefutable.
“Your name is Sten?” Serena asked.
I inclined my head slightly.
No hand offered.
That platonic touch, which was so common amongst normals, was not welcome here.
I would not even try it.
I mean, I wasn’t suicidal.
My eyes flicked—instinctively—back to where the Witch had stood.
Gone.
Of course.
“Damn,” I muttered.
“What are you doing in the corner?” Draugr asked.
“Nothing,” I snapped.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
I didn’t need him noticing.
Didn’t need anyone noticing.
Because Amrin Cordoza was invisible.
More invisible than I was.
And I intended to keep it that way.
“Okayyy—well, I guess we’ll be seeing you,” he said, guiding his mate away.
My gaze followed them—along with that little metaphorical green-eyed monster on my shoulder—but fuck that.
I wasn’t the kind of Monster to envy another.
Still, I watched the ease of it.
Their connection.
The way she looked at him.
Like he was something more than what he was.
Something worth trusting.
Something worth choosing.
A cold sensation twisted low in my gut.
Sharp.
Unfamiliar.
Ugly.
Fuck.
It was definitely jealousy.
I didn’t like it.
Didn’t understand it.
And it put me in a foul mood instantly.
I pushed off the wall.
I needed to get out of there, so I did.
I moved.
Fast.
Because I needed air.
Distance.
Control.
“Oh, look. Our resident Hobgoblin.”
Motherfucking shit.
It was Gunner.
Of course, it was.
His hand came down hard-on my shoulder.
I stilled.
Barely.
Every instinct in my body screamed to break him.
“Great. Gunner,” I said coolly. “Just back from a game of fetch?”
He snarled.
Predictable.
Tedious.
There was no end to the doggy related insults I could hurl at the moronic Wolf Shifter.
“Watch it, Blue Boy.”
“Did you just invite me to put my balls in your mouth?” I tilted my head. “Sorry, Fido, I’m really not interested.”
He lunged—I moved left.
And then—a voice.
“Excuse me—”
It cut through everything.
Soft.
Quiet.
Careful.
Hers.
I turned.
And there she was.
Up close and personal.
Amrin Cordoza.
She was closer than she had ever been.
Big eyes bright with emotion.
Nerves? Or just uncertainty.
She was looking directly at me.
At me.
“What is it?” I asked, harsher than intended.
“Well, if you’re about to kill each other,” she said, holding up a notebook, “could you maybe take a look at this first? I was told you have the best Astronomy grades.”
Heat filled me.
Unexpected.
Unwelcome.
But there.
Inside my chest.
On my face.
“Yo, fatty, do you mind? We got unfinished—” Gunner started.
That was it.
Done.
I moved before the thought finished forming.
My tail snapped out, wrapping tight around his throat as I lifted him clean off the ground.
His eyes bulged.
His hairy face drained of color.
Good.
“Say that again to her, and I’ll rip your lungs out of your chest,” I said softly.
He choked.
Struggled.
I squeezed.
Just enough.
Then I threw him.
Hard.
He hit the far wall with a crack that echoed down the corridor.
Silence followed.
Brief.
Unimportant.
“Wow,” she whispered.
I turned back to her.
Composed.
Controlled.
Untouched.
Even as something inside me remained very, very aware of her.
“Sorry,” I said, voice steady. “Um, what did you just ask me?”
And for the first time in a long time—I didn’t walk away.