Chapter 2
Chapter two
Imade it through the day on autopilot.
Classes blurred together—I couldn't tell you what Tomlinson lectured about or whether Boone quizzed us. James kept his hand on my knee during Psychology, grounding me, but my mind was back in Stone's room. His voice. His fear.
If I hurt you, I won't survive it.
By the time the last bell rang, I was already walking toward the Healing Center.
Something was wrong with Stone.
I felt it before I reached the east wing—a heaviness through the bond that made my steps slow. Not the sharp edge of crisis, not the wolf surging toward the surface. Something quieter. Deeper.
Like grief.
The corridor was empty when I arrived. Afternoon light filtered through the high windows, catching dust motes that drifted through the air. My footsteps echoed against the floor, too loud in the silence.
I knocked on Stone's door.
No answer.
"Stone?" I tried the handle. Unlocked. "I'm coming in."
He was sitting on the floor.
Not the bed, not the chair by the window. The floor, in the corner farthest from the door, his back pressed against the wall like he needed something solid behind him. His knees were drawn up, his arms wrapped around them, his head bowed so I couldn't see his face.
When he lifted his head, his eyes were red-rimmed. Exhausted.
"The memories are getting worse."
I closed the door behind me. "Tell me."
"They're not fading like Neal said they might. They're getting clearer. More detailed." His jaw tightened. "I can see the room now. The table. The faces of the people who held me down."
The bond pulsed between us.
"When I'm inside them," he said slowly, "I don't know where I am. I don't know who's in front of me. I don't trust myself."
He met my eyes.
"I don't trust myself around you."
"Stone—"
"I need you to hear this." His voice was steady. Deliberate. "When the memories take over, I'm not here. I'm back in that room. And anyone who touches me becomes one of them."
I understood what he was doing. Protecting me. Being responsible. Making the rational choice to put distance between us before something went wrong.
It was logical. It was also bullshit.
"So what's your plan?" I asked. "Push me away until you're healed? Isolate yourself until the memories stop?"
"If that's what it takes."
"It won't work."
He flinched.
"The bond," I said. "You feel it right now, don't you? Pulling at you. Making everything sharper."
His silence was answer enough.
"This isn't just your trauma, Stone. This is the bond amplifying everything. Every time you push me away, it pulls harder. Every time you try to isolate, it makes you more unstable." I stepped closer. "You're not protecting me. You're making it worse."
His hands clenched on his knees. "You don't know that."
"I feel it. Right now. The bond screaming between us because you keep trying to starve it."
His eyes flashed gold. Anger. Good. Anger was better than that dead, resigned distance.
"So what do you want me to do?" The words came out rough. "Just pretend I'm not dangerous? Let you sit next to me while I relive being strapped to a table?"
"I want you to stop using me as your only anchor."
That hit him. I saw it land—the confusion, the hurt, the flash of something that looked like betrayal.
"Talk to Cal," I said. "He's been where you are. He knows what it's like to come back from the feral dark."
"Cal doesn't—"
"Talk to Neal. He's a healer. He can help you build a framework for this."
"Lumi—"
"Talk to James." I held his gaze. "He's pack. He wants to help. Let him."
Stone's jaw worked. The gold in his eyes flickered—anger, fear, something rawer underneath.
"You're telling me to go to them instead of you."
"I'm telling you to figure out what you need from them so that when you hold me, you're not terrified of what you might do."
The words hung between us.
Stone stared at me. His chest was heaving now, breath coming faster. I felt the war inside him through the bond—the part that wanted to rage, the part that wanted to collapse, the part that was desperately relieved someone had finally told him he couldn't do this alone.
"I don't know how to do that," he said finally. His voice cracked. "I don't know how to need people. I've been surviving alone for so long—"
"You're not alone anymore. That's the whole point." I crouched in front of him so we were eye to eye. "I'm not going anywhere. But I can't be the only person you allow in. It's not fair to either of us."
His throat worked. I watched him swallow.
"What if they can't help?" The question came out raw. Afraid. "What if I talk to them and nothing changes and I'm still—"
"Then we figure out the next thing. Together. With pack." I reached out, let my hand rest on his knee. Felt him shudder at the contact. "But you have to try. You have to let them in."
He didn't answer for a long moment.
When he spoke, his voice was rough. Angry. But not at me.
"I hate this."
"I know."
"I hate that you're right."
"I know that too."
His hand covered mine. Pressed it harder against his knee. The bond hummed between us—still hungry, still demanding, but steadier now. Like something had shifted into place.
"Fine," he said. "I'll talk to Cal. And Neal." A pause. "Maybe James."
"Good."
"But Lumi—" His grip tightened on my hand. His eyes burned into mine. "This doesn't mean I want you less. It doesn't mean I don't need you."
"I know."
"It means I need you so much it scares me." His voice dropped. "And I can't keep being scared. Not of this."
I turned my hand over. Laced my fingers through his.
"Then stop being scared," I said. "And start being pack."
Ivy found me in the quad.
I'd been sitting on a bench for twenty minutes, staring at nothing, trying to process what had just happened. Stone's memories kept flickering through my mind—the white walls, the restraints, the table—fragments that didn't belong to me but felt carved into my skin anyway.
"Hey." Ivy dropped onto the bench beside me. "You look like someone ran over your puppy. What happened?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
How did I explain that my feral mate was remembering being tortured? That his trauma was bleeding through our bond, making me feel echoes of pain I hadn't experienced? That I'd left him alone in his room because he'd asked me to, and I wasn't sure if that was the right choice?
"Stone stuff," I said finally.
"Bad Stone stuff or regular Stone stuff?"
"Is there a difference?"
Ivy considered this. "Fair point." She bumped her shoulder against mine. "Want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
“Want to sit in silence while I make inappropriate comments about passing students?”
Despite everything, I almost smiled. “That sounds… actually kind of perfect.”
“Excellent.” Ivy leaned back, stretching her legs out in front of her. “See that guy by the fountain? The one with the man-bun? I’ve decided he’s secretly a vampire.”
I snorted. “How would you know? If wolves can hide in plain sight, anyone can.”
She squinted at him. “He’s very pale. And I’ve never once seen him eat in the dining hall.” She nodded, satisfied. “Suspicious.”
I let her voice wash over me, not really listening to the words but grateful for the distraction. Ivy had a gift for this—for knowing when to push and when to just be present. For filling silence with nonsense until the silence didn't feel so heavy.
"Okay," she said after a while. "I've given you your moping time. Now we're going to dinner, and you're going to eat actual food, and you're going to pretend to be a functioning human being for at least one hour."
"I'm not hungry."
"Didn't ask if you were hungry." She stood, grabbed my hand, hauled me to my feet. "Come on. I heard they have pie today."
"Pie doesn't fix everything."
"Pie fixes most things." She linked her arm through mine, steering me toward the dining hall. "The rest we figure out after dessert."
Dinner was a blur.
Ivy kept up a steady stream of conversation—gossip about classmates, complaints about professors, wild speculation about the European exchange students who were supposedly arriving next month. I nodded in the right places. Pushed food around my plate. Tried to pretend I was present.
But my mind kept drifting back to Stone.
The white walls. The table. The pain.
I remember being afraid.
"Lumi."
I blinked. "What?"
Ivy was watching me with worried eyes. "You haven't heard a word I've said in the last ten minutes, have you?"
"I'm sorry. I'm just—"
"Somewhere else." She reached across the table, squeezed my hand.
Before I could respond, the bond pulsed.
Not Stone's end—James's. A flare of concern, sharp and sudden, like he'd felt something through our connection that worried him.
I looked up.
He was crossing the dining hall, weaving between tables with focused purpose. His eyes found mine, and I saw the question in them before he reached us.
"Hey." He stopped beside our table, his hand finding my shoulder. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Liar." His voice was gentle but firm. "I felt you through the bond. Something's wrong."
Ivy stood. "I'm going to get more pie. Take your time."
She disappeared before I could stop her.
James slid into her vacated seat, his knee pressing against mine under the table. The contact helped—steadied something that had been spinning loose inside me.
"Talk to me," he said.
So I did.
I told him about Stone. The memories surfacing, the trauma bleeding through the bond, the white rooms and restraints and pain. I told him about sitting on the floor while Stone fell apart, about telling him to ask for help.
James listened without interrupting. His hand found mine under the table, fingers intertwining, anchor and comfort and presence all at once.
When I finished, he was quiet for a moment.
"Come with me," he said.
"Where?"
"My room." He stood, pulled me up with him. "You need to get out of your head for a while. Let me help."
James's room was warm.
He didn't just close the door. He locked it.
"Sit."
I sank onto the edge of the mattress. My legs felt like jelly.
He stepped between my knees, forcing them apart, standing flush against me. Even through his jeans, I could feel him—thick, hard, pressing against my stomach.
My breath hitched.
"You're overthinking." His hands slid into my hair, gripped tight enough to make my eyes flutter. "I can feel your pulse jumping. I can feel how much you're hurting." His voice dropped. "Let me give you something else to feel."
His mouth crashed onto mine.
Not a question. A takeover. His tongue swept inside, demanding and hungry, and I groaned against him. My hands found his ass, pulled him closer. I needed that hardness. Needed something solid and real.
"James." I whined it against his lips. My hips tilted up, seeking him.
"I know." The growl vibrated through his chest. "Want you so damn bad, Lumi."
He pulled back. Yanked my shirt over my head. My bra followed.
His eyes went dark. Pupils blown wide as he stared at me.
"Look at you," he whispered.
He dropped to his knees.
Removing my jeans, his hands slid up my thighs until he reached the lace of my panties. No hesitation. Two fingers slipped beneath the fabric.
I gasped. Sharp. Jagged.
"Soaking for me." His fingers slicked through the heat. "Drowning in it."
He stroked me—thumb working my clit while his fingers slid deep. My back arched. My head fell back. The first wave of pleasure crashed through me, drowning out everything. Stone's pain. The Academy. All of it.
Gone.
There was only James. His mouth on my breast. His tongue swirling around the tip. His fingers stretching me open.
"Please." My voice broke. "James. I need you inside me. Now."
He stood. Stripped his pants and boxers in one motion.
I stared.
He was beautiful. Thick. Heavy. Flushed with the same fever burning through me.
I fell back against the pillows, pulling him down with me. The moment our skin touched, the bond roared to life.
He settled between my thighs. The head of him grazed my entrance, teasing through the wetness. I was slick. Aching. Desperate.
I wrapped my legs around his waist. Locked my ankles behind his back.
"All of me, Lumi." His voice was raw. "Take all of it."
He surged forward.
One thrust. Deep. Soul-shattering.
I cried out. My eyes flew open as he filled every empty space inside me. So big. So solid. The only thing keeping me tethered.
He didn't let me adjust.
He moved. Hard. Relentless. His hips slammed into mine with a rhythm that echoed through the quiet room. Each stroke was a brand. A claiming.
Mine. Ours.
Through the bond, I felt his pleasure. Dark and golden. Fierce possessiveness. The way he loved my walls clenching around him. The way my scent was driving him past reason.
"I've got you." He panted against my neck, teeth grazing my throat. "Don't think. Just break for me."
I did.
The tension snapped. My muscles pulsed around him in frantic waves. I screamed his name. The world narrowed to nothing but him—his body against mine, the blinding white of release tearing through me.
He roared. Went rigid. Spilled himself inside me so hard he shook in my arms.
He held me like I was the only thing keeping him from flying apart.
Our hearts pounded together until the rhythm finally slowed.
For the first time all day, my head was silent.
Afterward, we lay tangled together in the dim light.
My head rested on his chest, his heartbeat steady under my ear. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my back, soothing, grounding.
"Better?" he asked quietly.
I pressed a kiss to his chest. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me for this." His arms tightened around me. "This is what mates mean. We carry each other."
"I know." I lifted my head, met his eyes. "But I'm still grateful. For you."
He kissed me.
"Whatever's happening with Stone," he said against my lips, "we'll figure it out. Together. You don't have to fix him alone."
His hand cupped my face. "You can love him while he learns to fix himself."
My eyes burned.
James held me while the tears came—quiet, exhausted, finally releasing some of the pressure that had been building in my chest. He didn't try to stop them. Just let me cry against his shoulder until the wave passed.
"Sleep here tonight," he said when I finally stilled.
"I should check on Stone—"
"In the morning. He asked for space. Give it to him." His hand stroked my hair. "Let someone take care of you for once."
I was too tired to argue.
I fell asleep in James's arms, the bond between us warm and steady, and for a few hours, the white walls and the pain and the grief all faded away.