Chapter 3-Amrin
Holy fucking shit.
Did that really just happen?
I stood there, heart pounding, lungs burning like I’d forgotten how to breathe, staring at the spot where Gunner had just been thrown across the corridor like he weighed nothing at all.
The sound of his body hitting the wall still echoed faintly through the stone halls of the Asgarheim Runevald Institute, swallowed quickly by the usual chaos of this place—students arguing, laughing, casting, existing like violence wasn’t just another language spoken here.
But I had seen it.
Felt it.
And gods help me… I think I kinda liked it.
Not the violence itself.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
But something shifted inside me when he called me fatty—something tired, something worn thin from years of being the easy target, the quiet one, the one no one defended.
And then—Sten had moved.
Fast.
Precise.
Controlled.
Like he had every right in the world to end that moment.
And for the first time in a very long time, I hadn’t felt small.
Maybe that was it.
Or maybe—my gaze drifted back to him.
No.
It wasn’t just that.
Because now that I was really looking—really seeing—I had no idea how I’d missed it before.
He wasn’t just tall.
He was huge.
Not bulky.
Not clumsy.
But powerful in a way that felt intentional—like every line of muscle beneath his black-on-black clothes had been carved there for a purpose.
His shoulders stretched the fabric of his hoodie.
His arms—oh my freaking goddess.
The way they moved when he’d lifted Gunner?
It was better than reading about the boy aquarium—er, I mean hockey romance of course.
Sten’s strength?
Effortless.
Terrifying.
And beautiful.
My stomach flipped.
Which was ridiculous.
Because I did not get flustered over men—or Monsters.
Not like that.
Not ever.
And yet…
“How did I not notice this before?” I muttered under my breath.
“Notice what?”
His voice snapped me out of it.
Deep.
Rough.
And way too close.
“Huh?”
I blinked.
Very articulate, Amrin.
“You didn’t notice what?”
Realizing—belatedly—that I was staring at him like a complete idiot.
Mouth open.
Brain offline.
“Sorry?” I murmured.
“Fuck. Okay,” he said again, impatience threading through his tone. “What did you want?”
Right.
Yes.
That.
The reason I was here, interrupting him.
Not whatever the hell this completely impulsive reaction was.
“I—” I scrambled for words as he turned slightly, already looking like he was about to walk away.
Panic spiked.
No.
No, no, no—he was not getting away.
Not after that.
Not when I needed him.
“I’m failing Astronomy,” I blurted, rushing after him.
Super smooth, Amrin.
Very dignified.
I winced internally as I hurried to keep up with his long strides.
Really?
Was it not enough that he looked like some sort of devastatingly attractive celestial war machine?
Did he also have to walk like the ground wasn’t even worth his time?
“Then get a tutor,” he said without looking back.
“I’m trying!” I snapped, breath already coming faster as I struggled to match his pace. “But you keep walking away!”
That got his attention.
He stopped.
Abruptly.
And I walked straight into him.
Of course I did.
I grabbed his arm to steady myself.
Bad move.
Very bad move.
His gaze dropped instantly to where my fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeve.
And something in his expression—something sharp and barely controlled, something that felt like a warning—had me trembling in my boots.
“Don’t,” he said, voice low, controlled in a way that made my skin prickle. “Touch me again.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
Not loud.
Not cruel.
Just final.
I let go immediately, heat flooding my face.
“Sorry,” I muttered, taking a step back. “Your legs are, um, excessively long, and I’d prefer not to pass out mid-conversation trying to keep up with you.”
Fucking hell.
Why did I say things like that?
Why was I like this?
I pressed my lips together, trying to recover some shred of composure.
Too late.
Always too late.
“I’m Amrin,” I added, because silence was worse.
We started walking again—slower this time—and I noticed it.
That he had adjusted his stride for me had me paying attention to him in a way I knew I shouldn’t.
But I couldn’t seem to help myself.
A small, ridiculous flicker of satisfaction sparked in my chest.
“I know your name,” he said.
Of course he did.
Everyone knew everyone here.
Even if they pretended not to.
“Okay, good,” I said, pulling out the wrinkled parchment from my bag. “So you already know I’m failing.”
“Obvious.”
I shot him a look.
“That’s really helpful.”
“It’s really accurate.”
Fair.
Annoying.
But fair.
“My mother is going to lose her mind if I have to repeat this course,” I said, more quietly now. “She already thinks I’m lacking.”
That was the polite version.
The controlled version.
The version that didn’t say disappointment.
Or embarrassment.
Or why can’t you be more like your sisters.
He didn’t respond.
Didn’t offer sympathy.
Didn’t soften.
Good.
I didn’t want that.
“I just need to pass,” I continued. “And Professor Franco’s extra credit assignment is my only option.”
“That ridiculous thing?” he asked, finally glancing at the paper.
“Yes,” I said. “That ridiculous thing.”
We turned off the main path.
Or rather—he did.
And I followed.
Immediately regretting it.
The path narrowed, twisting away from the well-lit courtyard into something darker.
Quieter.
Wrong.
“I’ve never seen this trail before,” I said cautiously.
“You wouldn’t have,” he replied.
That was so not reassuring.
The air changed.
It felt cooler.
Heavier.
The ley lines beneath Runevald pulsed faintly here, threading through the ground and rising into the sky like veins of light only he seemed able to follow.
It was like the darkness moved with him.
Like it made space.
Like it obeyed.
I shivered.
“Sten—”
“I’m busy, Luna.”
“Amrin,” I corrected.
He paused.
Just slightly.
Then, quieter—he murmured, “Amrin with the moon in her eyes.”
The words barely reached me.
But they did.
And that same something inside me that started paying attention before—that small, fragile something—lifted.
It felt lighter at his words.
Amrin with the moon in her eyes.
That was the first time anyone had ever said anything like that to me.
Considering I was thirty years old, that was saying something.
How many times had I cursed my stupid, oversized, too-pale eyes?
The ones my sisters mocked.
The ones my mother dismissed.
But here—for one impossible second—they didn’t feel like a mistake.
Not wrong or cartoonish.
Here, with him, they felt right. And I suddenly felt seen.
Dangerous, Amrin. Very dangerous.
I swallowed.
Hard.
Then I shoved the paper at him before I could overthink it.
He took it.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
Not touching me.
Not even accidentally.
Sten leaned against a tree.
And I blinked.
When had we reached the forest?
And where the heck were we exactly?
Oh.
Right.
We’d somehow trekked to the forbidden part of the forest—the one Professor Kenna warned us about in all the onboarding literature for the Institute.
Fantastic.
Lightning split the sky above us.
Thunder rolled.
And the storm broke.
Rain came down hard—cold, relentless, soaking through my thin shirt instantly.
I grabbed at my white shirt, trying to pull it away from my body, suddenly hyper-aware of everything.
My size.
My shape.
The way I filled space.
There was no hiding it now.
Not that there ever really was.
“So, let me get this straight. You want me to pretend to be your star-crossed love?” he said sharply, blue eyes glowing unnaturally in the storm light.
I lifted my chin.
Defensive.
Determined.
“I want you to help me pass,” I corrected. “Which includes charting a course and showing up with me at the festival.”
“That’s not required.”
“It literally says I need to bring my date,” I snapped.
“Then use your boyfriend.”
I laughed.
A short, humorless sound.
“Bold of you to assume I have one.”
He didn’t reply.
Just watched me.
Evaluating.
Weighing.
Like I was a problem he hadn’t decided to solve yet.
“No,” he said finally.
My stomach dropped.
Of course.
Of course he would say no.
Why wouldn’t he?
Why would someone like him agree to something like this?
“Look,” I said quickly, stepping closer despite myself, despite the warning still ringing in my ears. “If you help me—if you do this—I will—”
I hesitated.
Then pushed forward anyway.
“I will do anything you want.”
The words hung between us.
Heavy.
Charged.
The storm raged louder overhead.
“What?” he asked slowly.
“You heard me,” I said, louder now, competing with the thunder, and forcing the words out before I could take them back. “I will do anything you want. Just ask!”
Desperation?
Yes.
Absolutely.
But also—something else.
Because the way he was looking at me now—it wasn’t dismissive.
He didn’t seem disgusted either. Or even bored.
Sten looked focused.
Sharp.
Hungry in a way I didn’t understand.
His gaze dragged slowly over me.
Head to toe.
Taking in everything I had tried—and failed—to hide.
And instead of shrinking—instead of apologizing for existing—I simply stood there.
Letting him look.
Letting him see.
Because I had nothing left to lose.
A slow smile curved at the edge of his mouth.
Dangerous.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
“Anything?” he repeated.
And this time—it didn’t sound like a question.
It sounded like a promise.