Chapter 11-Draugr
I paced the narrow infirmary chamber like a caged beast.
Which, in truth, I was.
Asgarheim Runevald Institute’s infirmary was carved from old stone—thick, rune-etched walls that hummed faintly with warding magic.
Glass cabinets lined one side, filled with tinctures, bone-thread sutures, vials of glowing liquids harvested from creatures most students never knew existed.
The scent of herbs hung in the air—sage, rosemary, iron-rich tonics.
And beneath it all—her.
Serena’s scent lingered warm and maddeningly alive in the small room.
Nurse Everly pretended calm, but her fear scraped across my nerves like dull blades.
She moved efficiently around the bed, but her pulse fluttered fast in her throat.
I could hear it.
Could smell the adrenaline.
She was afraid of me.
Good.
She should be.
Ever since I had carried Serena into the infirmary—unconscious, limp in my arms, her dark hair tangled against my chest—I had struggled to maintain control.
My form flickered between my DeathFace and my restrained mien, bone threatening to press through flesh every time my restraint faltered.
The wards reacted to me.
They always did.
Rune-lines along the ceiling pulsed faintly in warning.
I was agitated.
Nervous.
Angry.
Starving.
Possessive.
Terrified.
Feelings I had not allowed myself in centuries.
If she woke now, saw my DeathFace fully unfurled—would she scream?
Would she recoil?
Would she look at me the way the others do?
Then again—she had not run when lightning illuminated me on the cliff.
She had not fled when she saw horns and wings and darkness carved into bone.
She had fought beside me.
A low rumble built in my chest at the memory.
I understood now why she fainted. She’d used her magic.
Serena had commanded a spirit.
For me.
She stirred now.
My Unnasta.
A soft moan slipped from her lips.
I was beside her instantly, nearly knocking Nurse Everly aside.
“Is she alright?” I demanded.
The nurse cleared her throat stiffly.
“Physically, yes. Magical depletion. Severe energy discharge. She needs rest. Professor Kenna has been notified.”
Professor Kenna.
But of course she’d been notified.
The head of the Institute would have felt the surge Serena unleashed. Necromantic command of that magnitude did not pass unnoticed.
“Fuck,” I growled.
Serena’s lashes fluttered.
“Raven?” she murmured.
The sound of my name in her mouth—it unraveled something inside me.
“I am here, Unnasta,” I said quietly, stepping closer without conscious decision.
Nurse Everly shot me a look but scribbled in her chart and retreated toward the door.
“Press the rune-button if you need anything,” she instructed Serena, though her pointed glare was directed at me.
I peeled my lip back slightly—not fully snarling, but enough.
She swallowed and exited.
Good.
Now there was only me and Serena.
She blinked slowly, eyes focusing on me. Violet magic shimmered faintly behind her pupils, like amethyst catching candlelight.
Relief crashed over me so violently my knees nearly weakened.
She was awake.
She was alive.
She was still here.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
She asked about me.
Even now.
She tried to sit upright and immediately swayed. I moved without thinking, sliding an arm behind her back to steady her.
Her skin was warm.
Lush.
Soft.
I grabbed a pillow from the chair and tucked it carefully behind her.
Carefully.
What the fuck was happening to me?
I am the Draugr.
I measure people by vein thickness and blood heat.
I do not arrange pillows.
And yet here I was—adjusting bedding like some besotted mortal.
My hunger had gone quiet since she crossed into this realm.
Then—it hit.
Violent.
Blinding.
Hunger roared back with a vengeance so sharp it forced a growl from my throat.
My runes flared, heat licking beneath my skin like molten chains tightening.
I staggered half a step back.
She was still holding my hand.
Her pulse thrummed beneath her wrist.
“Oh God, I'm starving,” she murmured, moaning and clutching her stomach.
My eyes snapped to hers.
Her gaze was dark.
Heavy-lidded.
Hungry.
No.
Not that hunger.
But—yes, starving all the same.
I swallowed hard.
“Actually, Unnasta, I think that may be me.”
Confession scraped like gravel in my throat.
And with it? A flood of embarrassment.
Me? Embarrassed?
“You never said how you found me?” she asked softly. “You said you were there, but you weren’t at the pub. I would’ve noticed.”
“Would you have noticed me, Little One?”
“I know it sounds dumb, but it’s like I’ve felt you. For days, I’ve felt you,” she whispered.
Felt.
The word landed between us like prophecy.
She felt me.
And I swear on all, the bond tightened ever so slightly at her words.
I could lie.
In fact, I should’ve lied to her.
But she watched me with an unsettling awareness—like she could taste falsehood before it formed.
“I’ve been following you,” I said.
Her brows knit.
“When?”
“Since before you stepped through the gate.”
Her fingers tightened faintly around mine.
“Why?”
Because you are mine.
Because I imprinted.
Because fate twisted its cruel hand and handed me something precious.
Because I am terrified.
“I felt a pull,” I said. “Magnetic. Unavoidable.”
She frowned adorably—and I immediately cursed myself.
Adorably?
Fuck and damn, I am doomed.
“Why didn’t you speak to me before?”
Because I feared I would devour you.
Because my hunger is not civilized.
Because I do not trust myself.
I shook my head, forcing my wings tighter against my back.
Her scent wrapped around me.
Earth.
Rain.
Sweetness beneath grave soil.
My mouth flooded.
Her heartbeat called to me like a war drum.
Claim.
Bite.
Mark.
Make her yours.
Seal it.
“I do not fully understand this compulsion—”
“You’re lying.”
The words were gentle.
Not accusing.
Certain.
I stared at her.
She knew.
She could feel it too.
“I am Draugr,” I muttered, clinging to the armor of title.
She shook her head slowly.
“No, you gave me your name. To me, you’re Raven.”
Raven.
The name pierced straight through the hardened shell I’d built around myself.
Raven was the boy who believed in futures.
The boy who still had a heart.
“Fuck, Serena,” I breathed. “This complicates things.”
“Why? Why can’t it be easy?”
Her magic flickered stronger now.
Violet and lavender currents shimmered faintly around her shoulders.
She touched my forearm.
Voluntarily.
Gods.
The contact sent a violent shudder through me.
A low rumble built in my chest—not warning, not threat.
Possession.
Desire.
Devotion.
“Raven, tell me why it can’t be easy,” she repeated.
She already knew.
I could see it in her eyes.
Sultry, sharp, perceptive little Necromancer.
My Unnasta.
My heart constricted painfully at the thought.
“Because staying away from you is the hardest thing I will ever do,” I said.
There.
Truth.
It sliced between us.
Hurt flickered across her face.
I hated myself for causing it.
But she needed to understand.
She was temptation embodied.
She was blood and hope, and salvation wrapped in soft curves and violet magic.
And I was starving.
Not just for blood.
For her.
For what she represented.
For release from a curse older than memory.
I leaned closer before I could stop myself.
Brushed her hair back from her shoulder.
Her skin was silk beneath my fingers.
Her breath warmed my jaw.
The world narrowed to her mouth.
Her lips parted slightly.
Invitation.
Or imagination.
It did not matter.
Every instinct screamed to kiss her.
To mark her.
To bind her.
To claim what fate had offered.
But beneath that hunger was something steadier.
A vow forming.
Serena was hope.
Hope is fragile.
Hope can be broken.
But I would break the world before I let that happen.
Her fingers slid from my forearm to my chest—over the runes.
They flared faintly beneath her touch.
She inhaled sharply.
“Your heart is racing.”
Because it beats for you.
Because I have not felt it this alive in centuries.
Because I am afraid.
I cupped her jaw gently.
So fucking gently.
Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.
And my mouth watered.
“I could ruin you,” I whispered.
Her gaze did not waver.
“Or you could trust me.”
Trust.
A word I had not allowed in a very long time.
I leaned down and brushed my lips across hers in a whisper of a kiss.
Then I pressed my forehead lightly to hers.
The small contact detonated the fragile bond between us.
Heat surged through my veins—not my normal hunger. Not Bloodlust.
I felt as if my entire life—eons of existence had all been headed towards this one fragile connection.
This thread.
This impossible line between us.
And more than anything, I felt compelled to feed it. To weave.
Seal the bond.
Bite her.
I fought against the desire to claim her.
And yet, it felt like something ancient snapped into alignment.
I saw flashes—her on the cliffs.
Her violet magic exploding outward.
Her tears on her cheeks.
My father’s voice demanding breeding contracts.
My uncle’s voice replacing his.
The Norns watching.
Always watching.
And beneath it all—the one thing I have never had in any of this.
Choice.
I drew back slowly.
“I would not hurt you for all the realms, Serena Notte,” I said quietly.
She swallowed.
“Raven? Please, tell me why I feel this way.”
“What way, Unnasta?” I asked as I breathed her in and cursed myself a fool.
“Like I’ll die if you don’t kiss me,” she murmured.
“No, Little One. Never that, please. I cannot bear to think of you in harm’s way,” I confessed.
“Why? Tell me,” she demanded, and fool that I was I could not deny her an answer.
“Because you have not been called here as merely a Necromancer to attend Asgarheim Runevald Institute.”
Her breath hitched.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the Norns, the Fates have decided to tempt the untemptable.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. But you see, you are the one thing I never believed I would be granted.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
I caressed her throat, unable to help myself. I pressed my thumb over her speeding pulse and allowed the truth to settle between us.
“You are the one thing that should never have crossed my path. You are my fated mate.”
“But that means, I mean, doesn’t that mean we’re supposed to be together?”
I answered with the only rebuttal I could.
I answered her with silence.
Heavy.
Charged.
Dangerous.
“Raven?”
Her eyes started to close. I could feel her exhaustion creeping over her, winning the war she fought between rest and wake.
“You must sleep, Unnasta,” I murmured as she started to fall.
My runes glowed brighter.
My hunger roared.
But it no longer felt like a beast clawing outward.
It felt contained.
Focused.
Devoted.
I would still burn.
I would still hunger.
But I would not be the instrument of her destruction.
I had to walk away.
I should walk away. Right fucking now.
For her sake. And for mine.
But Serena Notte was not a passing fascination. Not a fleeting attraction.
She was fate.
She was the answer to a curse written in blood and bone.
And as I cradled her sleeping form, watching over her while she rested and recharged, I knew that I was doomed because if she chose me back?
If this wondrous, beautiful creature accepted the decree of the Fates and said yes to my claim?
Well, then, gods help anyone who tried to take her from me.