Chapter 17-Draugr
I should not be here.
And yet, that thought had not stopped me once.
The Asgarheim Runevald Institute slept in layers.
The lower halls still murmured with late study sessions and whispered spellwork, but the upper corridors—the older ones, carved before the current age of structure and discipline—belonged to shadow.
To silence.
To things that watched and were not always seen.
I moved through those shadows as I always had.
Unseen.
Unheard.
Unwelcome.
My wings did not manifest within the wards, but I felt them anyway—a phantom weight along my spine, twitching with restless instinct.
The runes embedded in the stone resisted my more primal nature, forcing me into control.
Control.
The word had become a mockery.
Because no matter how tightly I held it—she unraveled it.
Serena Notte.
I watched her from the far end of the corridor as she stepped out of a lecture hall, books clutched to her chest, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Her hair was pulled back loosely, strands escaping to frame her face.
She looked so damned normal.
So fragile.
Too normal for someone who had stood on a cliff and commanded death itself.
For someone who had turned her face up to mine and asked me not to leave.
My throat tightened.
The hunger stirred.
Not the mindless kind.
Not the wild, devouring frenzy that had ruled me for centuries.
No.
This was worse.
This was precise.
Focused.
Refined.
It did not scream for blood.
It snarled and begged for her.
I pressed myself deeper into shadow, forcing my breath to steady.
Stay hidden.
Stay away.
You will ruin her.
The thought had become a constant refrain, etched into my bones with the same permanence as the curse I carried.
Because I knew what I was.
I knew what I became when hunger overtook reason.
I had seen it.
Felt it threatening to take over.
Woken with the taste of iron thick on my tongue and no memory of how it had gotten there.
And now—now she was tied to me.
The moment I had spoken the truth aloud—the moment I told her she was my fated mate—something had broken.
Or perhaps something had finally snapped into place.
The floodgates had opened.
I could feel her now.
Not always clearly.
Not always consciously.
But she was there.
A presence beneath my own.
A second heart beneath my breastbone.
A thread pulled taut between us.
When she laughed, something in my chest eased.
When she grew frustrated, my jaw tightened in response.
When she was afraid—Gods be damned.
When she was afraid, my entire being sharpened into violence.
I had nearly torn a second-year Air Witch apart yesterday for raising his voice at her.
He had not touched her.
Had not even stepped too close.
But Serena had flinched.
And that had been enough.
Mine.
The word rose again, unbidden.
Possessive.
Ancient.
Terrible.
I crushed it down.
She is not yours to claim.
She is not yours to break.
She is not yours to bind to your curse.
Serena shifted her books and started down the corridor.
Toward me.
My muscles locked.
The bond flared instantly.
Awareness.
Recognition.
She slowed.
Just slightly.
Her gaze flicked to the shadows where I stood.
Did she—no.
She couldn’t see me.
Not fully.
But maybe she felt me.
Of course she did.
The thread between us pulsed like a living thing.
Her breath hitched.
Just barely.
And my restraint snapped tight in response.
Leave.
Now.
Before she finds you.
Before you step out.
Before you forget why you’re staying away.
I forced myself backward, melting further into the alcove carved into the ancient stone.
She stopped.
Not moving.
Listening.
My hunger surged.
Her pulse—damn me—I could hear it.
Soft.
Steady.
Alive.
Too alive.
It called to me in ways I did not trust.
Not anymore.
Because the hunger no longer wanted to take from her.
It wanted to keep her.
To anchor her.
To hold.
To protect.
To claim.
And that—that was the most dangerous thing of all.
“I know you’re there,” she said softly.
The words cut through the corridor.
Through me.
I froze.
Do not answer.
Do not step forward.
Do not let her see what you become when you are close to her.
Silence stretched.
Then—she exhaled slowly.
“I can feel you.”
My hands curled into fists.
Of course she could.
The bond was no longer subtle.
It had grown stronger with every hour I denied it.
With every step I took away from her.
Distance did not weaken it.
It sharpened it.
Made it ache.
“I don’t understand it,” she continued, voice quieter now, raising her hand to her chest. “But it’s right here. I can feel you right here.”
She thumped her hand once upon her breast and fuck me, my knees almost buckled.
Yes, I wanted to scream.
Yes, it is right there.
And it will ruin us both.
I closed my eyes instead.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough to gather the strength to leave.
Because if I stayed—if I stepped out, if I looked at her the way I wanted to—there would be no going back.
I had already told her.
Already marked the path.
Fated mate.
The words had sealed something ancient.
Irreversible.
And I—I did not trust myself to survive it.
Or her.
I turned.
Silently.
Stepping away from the corridor.
From her.
From the pull that threatened to drag me back.
“You know, if you’re going to hide from me, maybe you shouldn’t follow me,” she shouted at my back loudly and suddenly.
I stopped.
Damn her.
Damn the way she knew.
“I’m trying not to,” I answered before I could stop myself.
The words slipped through shadow.
Low.
Rough.
Too honest.
Silence fell again.
“Why did you say you wouldn’t leave when it sure as fuck feels like you already did? And why are you following me if you already made that choice?”
Because I cannot stop.
Because every instinct I have is tied to you now.
Because I am already lost.
I did not answer.
I couldn’t.
Because the truth would undo everything.
Instead, I stepped fully into the deeper corridors, letting the shadows swallow me whole.
The bond stretched painfully as I moved farther away.
Her presence dimmed—but never disappeared.
Never would.
That was the real curse.
Not the hunger.
Not the blood.
Not the centuries of restraint.
This.
This connection.
This need.
This impossible, fragile, living thing tied to something as broken as me.
I braced my hands against the cold stone wall and bowed my head.
“You are doomed,” I muttered to myself.
Because I knew the truth.
I could stay away.
I could hide.
I could pretend this was control.
But sooner or later—the hunger would win.
And when it did—it would not be blood I craved most.
It would be her.