Chapter Twenty-Two
The sound of the room rushes back the instant our lips collide. It swells, closing in until the only thing left is him—the heat radiating off his body, the solid weight of his hand, the taste of him flooding my mouth.
Smoke and something sharper, like burnt sugar laced with old-blood privilege.
I drown in it, bittersweet and lethal, my stomach coiling tight and heavy, and my knees nearly buckle before I can lock them.
What is he doing?
What am I doing?
I should shove him off. Draw a blade, carve a lesson into his ribs. He’s the enemy. An officer. A Veirmont. Why the fuck isn’t my dagger in his gut already?
Because my Threads are empty.
I’m empty.
And his mouth is on mine—and all I can feel is fire. The rasp of his lower lip drags against mine, the scrape of his stubble catching at the corner of my mouth. There’s no gentleness. No hesitation. Just demand. Like he’s set on ripping out the treacherous part of me I only face in my dreams.
And god help me, my ribs lift forward before the rest of me can protest.
This was not the plan. I was supposed to get a new duck, then bait him. Let him think he’d broken through just long enough to get what I needed.
But when I try to shift, to slip away, his hand is quicker, flattening over the curve of my lower back, rough through the thin fabric, before it anchors, pulling me into him.
No escape. Only heat and muscle, and the crush of his mouth, relentless, pressing into me, twisting resistance into something else—something wrong. Because the pulse that follows isn’t fear.
I brace to shift again, but he just catches the back of my neck, fingers drag up into my hair as his lips move across mine, harder, deeper.
A shiver darts down my spine.
It should terrify me.
It should make me shove him away, strike, do something, anything.
But I wasn’t ready for this.
Hell, I don’t even know what this is.
All I know is the taste of him—danger wrapped in secrets—and the way my Threads respond like they’ve been caged, starving, since the moment I saw him in the courtyard, finally sinking their teeth into something they have been forbidden to consume.
Even if I wanted to escape... I can’t.
The Nightrose, its petals finally snapped shut.
And the worst part?
It's even better than my fucking nightmares.
Pressure builds on my back as his fingers curl tighter, dragging me closer. Every inch of him presses into me.
Heat sparks low and races up my front, licking every nerve awake until my breath hitches and something deep inside me breaks loose.
Control—gone.
Nerves knotted so tight I can’t tell where rage ends and seditious hunger begins.
His scent wraps around me as he shifts—utterly in control, each movement of his mouth over mine deliberate and exact—while my heart just stutters, body slips, betraying me, giving in to him as my head tips back on instinct.
I brace my hands against his chest, heat radiating through the thin barrier of his uniform, muscle shifting under my palms with a restrained power that makes my heart trip.
My fingers curl into the soft fabric, gripping for balance and then a slow breath shudders through him, ghosting over my lips, soft, unsteady, and something shifts.
The tight coil in his body unravels an inch, and his grip falters, just slightly, melting to a lingering drag, and instead of pulling me, he leans in. Erasing the last space between us.
So close now, fuck, I feel him everywhere. My heartbeat finds his, thudding so hard I’m sure he can feel it.
What the hell am I doing? What the hell is he doing?
But the thought evaporates as the kiss deepens, his precision giving way to something different, something more unguarded, and my mouth parts before I can stop it—like a moth, lured into the dangerous softness between us, into the sweet, safe petals of a deadly Nightrose.
For a breath, we hover, mouths open, chests rising, the space between us thick with ache.
Then his tongue brushes mine, gentle, delicious in the way something forbidden always is. My knees give, my heart jumps. Sparks rise—
And suddenly a jolt tears through me, sharp and blinding.
I stumble and he’s gone before I can blink.
Ripping himself away as if I’ve burned him, he takes two controlled steps back, every line of him rigid with restraint.
Cold slams into the space between us, sudden and punishing. Knees still unsteady, I drag in a breath that barely makes it past my ribs. My lips burn. My skin prickles. Heat still throbs low, heavy, undeniable.
I don’t know what to think. What to say, what to feel. My gaze lifts to his, as if to find answers.
Across from me, his chest rises once, hard, then lowers as his dark hazel eyes find mine, and for a second, something flickers.
A hitch. Surprise? No... confusion? It’s the same look he gave me in the tunnels when I took that blunt knife from him.
Like he’s studying me, trying to make sense of something that doesn’t quite fit.
But then it’s gone.
His cold mask slams back into place, tight, unreadable and dangerous.
Conversation stutters behind us; a few remaining cadets whisper by the doorway, pretending not to be watching.
I’m still fighting to slow my breath, to drag my heartbeat back under control, to figure out why the fuck he just kissed me, when footsteps echo closer—Merrin’s and Professor Strannt’s, moving in fast.
Talen glances back at them over his shoulder, then turns to me, stepping back in close.
“If you want to stay alive, Bloom...” His voice a command, no mocking curl, no baiting lilt. Just flat, harsh truth. “Play along, keep your mouth shut and never tell anyone that was fake.”
Fake?
The word is still ringing in my head as Professor Strannt, the Weasel’s dad, and Merrin appear in front of me.
Talen shifts, stepping to my side, then his hand slides down the length of my arm until he finds my fingers.
For a second, he lingers there, our hands barely touching, tension sparking where skin meets skin.
Then he moves, grip tightens around mine, not tender.
A hold that feels less like affection and more like a silent order.
“Officer Veirmont.” Professor Strannt, Weasel Senior, says. His tone clipped and assessing, “If you’re quite finished with that very public display of affection, we’ll be removing Cadet Bloom now.”
He shifts his weight on his cane and turns to me. Jaw tight, the same eyes and the same oily, leering grin his son wore when I stepped into that interrogation cell.
Remove me? Shit, shit, shit, I’m being Reassigned.
Oh god, they all saw. They know I interfered.
..Panic flares, tightening everything inside me, twisting something deep in my core.
No. I can’t let Weasel Senior touch me. I can’t let them take me.
I was close—so close. Just a few more weeks, to get the journals, get answers, get home. To Bren...
My pulse stutters hard against Talen’s hold, and my free hand curls into a fist, body tense and ready to strike. But before I can speak or swing, Talen’s hand clamps down harder around mine, not painful, but a clear warning I can’t ignore.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Merrin cuts in, his red robes a bold slash of power against Weasel Senior’s blues. “It appears that Officer Veirmont and Cadet Bloom here are in an open and committed relationship…”
Wait—what?
My head jerks toward Talen, he doesn’t even glance my way, just keeps our hands locked firmly together. But the cold mask has softened, replaced by a smug, satisfied smile that makes my skin prick.
I shift, meaning to yank my hand free, to tell Merrin exactly how wrong he is.
But without so much as a glance, Talen’s grip tightens, not just on my hand, but on my voice.
Without the slightest effort, he takes it; words dissolving on my tongue, stripped away as easily as if they’d always belonged to him.
“You know the rules, High Chancellor.” Weasel Senior turns his head towards Merrin. “Any interference results in immediate Reassignment.”
“True,” Merrin allows, “but you also know the rules, Professor, that when officers or cadets are in a formal, open, committed relationship, the Union Clause is enacted. They cannot be separated. And given that they’re both training within the Air Realm cohort, I see no reason it wouldn’t apply.
” His gaze hardens, head tilting slightly as he slices through Weasel Senior with a look that for a moment, chillingly reminds me of Talen.
What the hell is he saying? What game is this?
I want to demand answers, to make it clear I didn’t agree to any of this, but Talen’s grip is an iron shackle, keeping my hand and my voice pinned exactly where he wants them.
“It’s also a rule,” Merrin adds, “I know you wouldn’t dare break, considering you personally pushed for the amendments last year for, what was it now, stricter reinforcement?
” Weasel Senior’s mouth thins, his eyes narrowing to slits.
“So unless you’re suggesting we Reassign our most prized and skilled officer along with her, we have no alternative, however much I may wish otherwise, but to let her remain. ”
A flicker of ego snaps through Professor Strannt’s weaselly gaze. He wants to bite back, you can see it in the way his jaw locks, in the way resentment grits down into his spine, stiffening every line of him. Still, Merrin's gaze holds, silence stretching between them taut as wire.
Oh shit... It hits all at once—Why the kiss, why the lie, why the warning to keep it quiet. This is it. Talen’s just stopped my Reassignment—stopped them from throwing me to the dragons and death.
Why would he do that?
First the truce, then the dragon, now this?
The thoughts barely finish before the full weight of it crashes through me. Shit. If I call him out, if I tell them it’s not true, I’m finished. But if I don’t, if I stay silent…
I’m his.
My gaze drops to my hand, still locked in his.
Fuck, this was not the plan. I wanted to be trapped, yes, but only once I got a new duck, once I had my magic under control and definitely only long enough to get answers. I didn't want to end up buried so deep I can’t claw my way out.
Still… Reassignment means certain death, and I’ve only got to survive a few more weeks here. Get the journals, get answers, and get out, alive. Home.
I’m so close. Close enough that maybe I can swallow this, play along, follow his lead and make it to the end... I can do this. I have to. This is his game, and the only way I win is by playing it right.
I know what I have to do. God, but I don’t want to...
Looking back up, the silence holds, jaws tick, eyes flicker. The air’s so tight it could splinter in a heartbeat.
“Fine,” Weasel Senior finally grits out through clenched teeth. “The Outerlander stays,” he turns to me. “For now. But I’ll be keeping a very close eye on you.” He drags his gaze over my body before cutting to Talen. “On both of you.”
Beside me, Talen’s head tilts, a shrug, almost apologetic.
“If it amuses you, professor, who am I to object?” His smile hooks wider, crooked and knowing.
“Although I had assumed a man of your ranking had better things to do than assess my more... intimate talents. Feedback’s been flawless so far.
” Then he leans in, the words drip from his tongue as if he can taste every one.
“I’m constantly told I more than exceed expectations. ”
The faintest drag of Talen’s thumb over mine—so light I almost miss it, but it’s enough to send heat climbing my neck and into my cheeks. My knees almost give again, but he shifts fast and catches my weight before anyone notices.
“Good,” Merrin chirps, breaking the tension like it was never there. “If that’s settled, we’re late for the monthly faculty meeting.” He starts for the door, then pauses. “Officer Veirmont, your presence is also requested by the Sovereign Minister.” Then without waiting for a reply, he walks out.
Talen’s gaze is still locked on Weasel Senior, his smile smooth and polite, but there’s a glint of dark delight in it.
He holds just long enough for the professor’s jaw to tighten, then turns to me, leaning in as if to brush my cheek with a soft kiss.
Heat licks up the back of my neck, but his mouth finds my ear instead.
“Remember,” he murmurs, “If you want to survive, play along, not a word this is fake... to anyone.”
The pressure around my hand and mouth vanishes as soon as he moves, falling in behind Merrin without a backwards glance.
Weasel Senior lingers a beat longer, eyes twitching as they rake over me, before he also finally limps after the others, cane tapping against the stone, and I’m left standing there. Alone.
What the fuck was that...
Body locked, I just stand there, don’t move, can’t move. My mind’s a total mess—Ezzy nearly being killed, the kiss, Merrin's words, Talen’s voice in my ear. It’s all jagged shards tumbling over each other, too fast to grab hold.
He saw me interfere, then kissed me, then saved me. Again.
Why? What the hell does he want from me, why does he want me alive?
I thought I was closing in on answers, getting the upper hand. Now I’ve just traded my plan for more questions and a leash I didn’t agree to wear.
And Ezzy, no more lies. That’s what I swore. No more shielding her from the truth. She deserves the whole of it—the danger, the choice, the power to protect herself. I can’t take that away from her again.
But maybe I have to?
Because if anyone finds out, if she finds out, what Talen just did...
I know she helped me through the tunnels that night, and she hasn't said a word since, but still, something about that chatty mouth of hers makes me nervous. And I don't know what he would do if anyone found out.
But maybe, just maybe, if I keep quiet, they don’t need to find out. I can keep the kiss a secret.
Deep inhale, shaking the nerves from my hands, I turn back toward the centre of the mat.
Ezzy and Finn are still in the far corner, but she’s not folded into him anymore.
She’s sitting upright, too upright, and even through the pain twisting her features, I can see it.
As clear as bloody day, shock. And beside her, Finn, mirrors the exact same look, same gape, same frozen what-the-fuck-did-we-just-see stare.
Shit, well, there goes that plan.