Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Back to Nova’s POV
Iknock on Professor Harmon's door at exactly seven and wait. He's had other professors cover the last two sessions so I'm half expecting someone else to answer, but it's his voice that calls out.
"Enter."
There's surprise mixed with the familiar nerves when I realize he's actually here. I push the door open and step inside.
Julian is at his desk with his head down, pen moving across papers in those exact strokes that somehow manage to look elegant despite being utterly practical. He doesn't look up when I enter, doesn't acknowledge my presence for several long seconds that stretch out uncomfortably.
The air in his office feels different tonight.
Heavier. My skin is already too warm from the heat that still hasn't fully released its grip on me, and being in this small space with him makes it worse.
I can smell cedar and old books and something underneath that's just him, and my body responds in ways I'm trying hard to ignore.
"Sit, Miss Bardot."
I sit and pull out my notebook, trying to ignore how my pulse is racing just from being in the same room as him.
He sets down his pen but keeps his eyes on the papers in front of him. "Chapter twelve through sixteen. Territorial disputes following the 1847 reforms. I want a comprehensive analysis of the economic factors driving the consolidation patterns. Due tomorrow."
I wait for him to continue, to explain the assignment or give me the usual resources. When he doesn't, I realize what he's saying. "That's five chapters in one night."
"Is that a problem, Miss Bardot?"
"That's not possible. Not if you want comprehensive analysis."
"Then I suggest you prioritize your time more efficiently." He picks up his pen again like the conversation is over. "The library has additional resources if you need them."
I stare at him, trying to understand what's happening.
He still hasn't looked directly at me. His jaw is clenched tight and I can see a muscle jumping there.
This isn't his usual cold professionalism.
This is something else. This is intent cruelty, assigning work he knows I can't complete just to watch me struggle.
And he won't look at me because if he does, I think something is going to break.
"What did I do wrong?"
The pen stops moving. "Excuse me?"
"You've been avoiding me for days and now you're..." I don't know how to finish that sentence. Now you're punishing me? Now you're being cruel? "Why are you doing this?"
He finally looks at me and his expression is so carefully blank it must be taking enormous effort to maintain. But I can see the tension in his shoulders, can see his breathing has gone slightly uneven. The air between us feels thick with things neither of us is saying.
"I'm your professor, not your confidant, Miss Bardot. If you find the workload challenging, perhaps you should reconsider whether you're suited for advanced studies at this Academy."
The words land like physical blows. I've survived the Dominion trials, Nico's betrayal, public humiliation in front of the entire student body.
But somehow this is worse. Because Julian was the one person who made me feel like I might be worth the space I occupy, and now he's looking at me like I'm just another struggling student he's already written off.
"You didn't used to look at me like that." The words come out quieter than I intended.
His jaw tightens but he doesn't break eye contact. "Like what?"
"Like I'm nothing. Like I don't matter."
The silence that follows feels endless. I can hear the clock ticking on the wall, can hear my own heartbeat in my ears. He's gripping his pen hard enough that his knuckles have gone white.
"You matter, Miss Bardot." His voice comes out rougher than usual, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will. "That's the problem."
The admission hits me harder than I expected.
He just said I matter. Professor Julian Harmon, who maintains perfect professional distance with everyone, just admitted that I matter to him and somehow that's a problem.
My heart is doing something complicated in my chest and I don't know if I should feel relieved or terrified.
"How is that a problem?"
"Because I'm not supposed to care whether you matter or not. I'm supposed to teach you history and maintain professional boundaries and..." He stops himself, shaking his head.
"And what?"
"That's enough. The session is over. You can leave now."
"No."
His head snaps up and I see genuine shock cross his face before he can hide it. Students don't refuse Professor Harmon. Especially not students who should be grateful he's giving them any attention at all.
"Miss Bardot, I'm telling you to leave."
"And I'm telling you I'm not going anywhere until you explain why you've been avoiding me." I lean forward slightly. "You said everything about me is your concern. You said that. So explain to me why you won't even look at me."
He stands abruptly, the movement sharp enough that his chair scrapes against the floor. He turns away from me to face the bookshelf behind his desk, and I can see the tension radiating through his entire body. His hands have curled into fists at his sides and his shoulders are rigid.
The heat makes me hyperaware of everything. The sound of his breathing. The scent of cedar that gets stronger when he moves. The distance between us that feels both too much and not nearly enough.
"You don't understand what you're asking," he says eventually.
"Then help me understand."
"I refuse to." His voice is rough and strained. "You need to leave. Now. Just go."
I should listen. I should pick up my bag and walk out and stop pushing him. But I can't. I need to understand why the one person who made me feel seen is now trying to pretend I don't exist.
He turns around and the look on his face stops whatever I was going to say next. There's no professional mask anymore. No careful control. Just raw honesty that looks almost painful.
"I'm trying to forget all the reasons why I can't have you," he says quietly. "And you being in this room isn't helping."
I watch his breathing come too fast, watch the muscle jump in his jaw. Whatever control he usually maintains has been pushed to its absolute limit.
He closes his eyes like the words hurt. When he opens them again, some of that control has returned. "Please go, Miss Bardot. Please."
The please breaks something in me. I pick up my bag and walk to the door, but I can't leave without saying one more thing. My hand rests on the handle and I turn back to look at him.
"I'm not afraid of you, you know."
He closes his eyes like the words hurt. When he opens them again, they're darker than I've ever seen them. Not quite his wolf but close enough that I can see the amber bleeding through the brown. The air between us feels charged with something dangerous.
"You should be afraid of what I might do if you stay."
The words send a shiver through me that has nothing to do with fear.
His eyes are still dark, still watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
I can feel something pulling at me, the same way I felt it with Caspian in the hallway, that invisible thread trying to connect us.
The heat makes it worse, makes everything feel too intense, too raw.
I force myself to turn away before I do something stupid like walk back to him.
I leave, then close the door behind me and lean against the wall in the corridor, trying to catch my breath.
My whole body feels like it's been electrified.
I can still smell cedar and old books, can still see the look on his face when he said he can't have me.
Something is happening between us that I don't fully understand, but I know it's forbidden and dangerous, and I know that we're both losing the fight to stay away from each other.
I make it back to my dorm without really seeing the path I take. Lily is already asleep, which is good because I don't want to explain why my hands are shaking.
I change into sleep clothes and get into bed, but sleep is impossible.
My body is too restless, the heat symptoms flaring back up with a vengeance after days of leveling off.
I lie there staring at the ceiling and replaying Julian's words over and over.
I'm trying to forget all the reasons why I can't have you.
That's when the pain hits.
It's sharp and sudden, like someone drove a hook under my sternum and yanked hard.
I gasp and sit up, clutching my chest as the pain intensifies and spreads through my ribs.
There's something pulling at me, something trying to connect to something else, and I know instinctively what this is even though I don't want to know.
"Nova?" Lily's voice cuts through the pain. "What's wrong?"
I can't answer because I can't breathe properly. The pulling sensation is so strong now that I know exactly where it's coming from. The boys' dormitory. Nico.
No. Not him. Anyone but him.
But my body doesn't ask permission. Something shifts under my ribs with a sensation like a door swinging shut and locking, and I can feel him.
Nico. Somewhere in the building, aware of me just as I'm now aware of him.
But this isn't a bond completing. It's a bond refusing to let go, half-formed and wrong, lodged in my chest like a splinter that won't come free.
It doesn't feel like the soft pull toward Julian or the magnetic draw toward Caspian.
This feels contaminated. Like the connection tried to form and got twisted somehow, building on broken trust, and now it just sits there, present, permanent, and poisoned.
I curl around the pain, gasping. It feels like a wound that won't close.
"I'm getting the healer." Lily is already out of bed.
"No." I force the word out through clenched teeth. "Just cramps. I'm fine."
"Nova, that's not..."
"Please." I look at her and whatever she sees in my face makes her hesitate. "I just need to sleep. It'll pass."
She gets back into bed slowly, but I can feel her watching me in the dark.
I lie there curled around the pain as it slowly shifts from sharp to a constant deep ache.
The bond is there now whether I want it or not, and through it I can feel Nico feeling the same thing.
Can feel his relief that it formed, his guilt over what he did, his desperate hope that maybe this means I'll forgive him.
I hate it. Hate that I'm connected to him now without my consent. Hate that the bond formed just because my body decided he was a mate regardless of what my heart knows about his betrayal.
The books I read didn't mention this. That bonds could form wrong. That they could feel like infection instead of connection.
Eventually the sharp pain fades to something bearable. I uncurl slightly, trying to find a position that doesn't make the ache worse. Through the bond I can feel Nico somewhere in the building, probably in his own room, experiencing this same painful connection.
I close my eyes and try to breathe through it. The bond sits under my ribs like broken glass, and I know with absolute certainty that this is permanent. I'm bound to him now. Partially. Painfully. Whether I want it or not.