Chapter 14
Fourteen
L osing herself in the music was divine. Heavy bass reverberated through the room, the dance floor packed with swarming bodies. Some moved loosely in groups while others gyrated their hips together in time with the beat.
Alaire had no idea how long they’d been dancing.
Her limbs were still shaky from the wine, but she was content to let the music wash over her as each song seamlessly bled into the next.
Warmth clung to her skin, leaving it sticky with sweat.
She caught sight of Archer near a wall of blooming flowers, dressed to impress, and was grateful for the occasional breeze that tickled the back of her neck.
“Want to take a break?” Kaia leaned close, shouting in her ear.
“One more song.” A rare, carefree smile cracked Alaire’s face.
“There she is. I knew underneath all that poise, venom, and snark was something wild. Dance it out, Al.”
Alaire gave her an exaggerated wink.
Kaia grabbed Alaire’s forearm, eyes fixed over her shoulder. “Don’t look now, but a lot of handsome is coming this way.”
“A fae?” Alaire asked.
“No, a flower just sprouted legs.”
Alaire pinched Kaia’s elbow, earning a playful bat in return.
She glanced slyly over her shoulder.
A towering novice with wavy chestnut hair she’d seen before, but never interacted with, strode toward them. Alaire’s eyes narrowed at his approach. She wasn’t in the mood to face off with anyone else tonight. All she wanted was to enjoy the evening with her friend.
“I told you not to look,” Kaia scolded.
“I thought you were lying,” Alaire muttered, still swaying to the beat.
“Listen, if there’s one thing I don’t lie about, it’s breathtaking specimens.”
“Whatever.” Alaire reached up to tighten her ponytail.
“Interested, are we?”
“Shut it, he’ll hear you.” Just because Alaire despised how the fae used humans for their more basic impulses didn’t mean she couldn’t do the same.
Kaia twirled, her hair bouncing with the movement.
The male approached with practiced ease, hands tucked into the pockets of his tan trousers. “May I interrupt?” His eyes locked on Alaire’s.
“Perfect timing,” Kaia said, practically glowing. “I need to figure out where Archer is anyway.”
“I saw him by the ivy trellises. He’s in a navy tunic,” Alaire replied.
Kaia laughed. “Perfect.” She squeezed Alaire’s hand. “Come find us when you’re done.”
She shot the male a sharp look—though it held about as much venom as a butterfly—before disappearing into the crowd.
Alaire turned back to her unexpected companion.
“Alaire, I’m Kole.” His smile was charming, features undeniably handsome, yet something about his smooth expression and the glint in his eye made her uneasy. “I’ve seen you around campus but haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you. May I have this dance?”
It was just a dance, but something in her hesitated.
Kole noticed. His smile widened as if her hesitation was endearing. “From what I can tell, you’re not one to turn down a challenge. Who knows? You might enjoy dancing with me.”
His words were calculated, designed to disarm—something she’d seen plenty of times before. But tonight, she wanted a reprieve. For one dance, she could pretend.
“One dance,” she conceded.
Kole took her hand, pulling her flush against him. He knew his way around a dance floor, but his hand rested a bit too low on her back, and she tensed beneath his touch.
His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “I admire your resolve.” Her hair stood on end for all the wrong reasons. “I can’t imagine how challenging it is for you, being a human here.” His tone was placating.
“Only trying to do my best with the hand the gods dealt me.” She angled her neck away from him.
“A mouse in a den full of vipers without magic to aid you. It can’t be easy. I appreciate that.”
Or did he thrive on it?
His gaze lingered a little too long on the skin visible beneath the sheer fabric of her top.
“I’m not looking for anyone’s pity,” she said frostily, scanning the crowd for Kaia. Kole only pulled her closer.
“Ah, there’s the famed fire I’ve heard about.” He chuckled. “Relax, you’re so stiff. Just enjoy the dance.”
With each passing second, Alaire’s discomfort grew. When the song ended, Kole still didn’t release her. Instead, he leaned in, eyes heavy-lidded.
She suppressed a cringe.
“Let’s go somewhere more private. My dorm isn’t far?—”
“No, thank you,” Alaire said, trying to twist free. His hand only tightened on her hip.
“Come on, don’t be such a tease. All you humans are the same, playing hard to get and waiting for a fae to?—”
“ Enough , Kole,” Alaire snapped, digging her nails into his skin. “I said no. Back off.”
He ignored her, leaning closer, his breath ghosting across her neck.
She pushed against his chest again, but he didn’t budge.
The lingering effects of Nebula’s Brew still clouded her senses, leaving her sluggish.
Everyone was going to stand there and let this happen, because she was just a human, after all.
Ice-cold fear ran through her veins.
His smile became predatory. “You know, Dawson’s little edicts don’t scare me.
He told us all to stay away, to stop threatening you.
” Kole scoffed, eyes raking over her with open contempt.
“What could you possibly offer Aeris Academy? You’re nothing but a warm body taking up space—better served on your knees doing what your kind does best.”
Before she could react, his hand locked around her waist like the manacles at Grimstone, dragging her toward one of the darker corners of the room. No, no, no. She twisted her body and dug her heels in, but her limbs felt like they were moving through molasses. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Kole chuckled, low and manic.
“You’re just a human. What could you possibly do to get away? Go on, fight back. It’s hot.” He caged her against the wall.
Her pulse hammered in her ears. She shoved her forearms against his chest, but it was useless. No one would help her. Alaire was alone, and Kole knew it.
Adrenaline surged, burning away the lingering haze of fae wine. Alaire went pliant in his arms, letting him think she’d given up—just enough to drop his guard while she planned her next move.
He was bigger and stronger—she needed something fast and simple. A kick to the groin, then, with his neck exposed, a hard jab to the larynx. Enough to get away. Enough to reach Kaia and Archer.
She ran through the plan three times in her head. As she swung her leg back, the temperature dropped, an unnatural silence rippling outward. A low current brushed her collarbone, slicing through the staccato of fear.
A torrent of wind slammed into Kole, forcing him to stumble back. Wisps of hair tore loose from her ponytail.
Tall and imposing, Dawson emerged from the shadows, his features carved in cold fury. The mask of indifference he always wore was gone, replaced by something dangerous and deadly. His blazing eyes locked on Kole.
“Let. Her. Go.” Dawson’s roar ripped through the atrium. Winds swirled violently, shaking leaves from pergolas and tearing flowers free in a rainstorm of petals.
Kole dropped her, stepping back with a sneer. “Dawson.” His tone dripped with mockery. “Come to defend the poor, weak human again?”
“Fuck off, Kole.” Dawson stepped between them, shielding her with his body as he gently reached for her.
“Are you hurt?” His voice softened, thumb brushing lightly over the pulse point at her neck. Despite the rage radiating from him, his hand was steady, careful.
Alaire rubbed her arm where Kole’s fingers had dug into her skin. “I’m fine, Dawson.” His eyes lingered on the angry red marks. “I can handle myself.”
“You shouldn’t ever have to handle something like that,” he murmured, even as violence simmered behind his eyes and tension coiled in his shoulders.
His gaze snapped back to Kole. “I have zero tolerance for men who can’t take no for an answer,” he said, voice low and menacing. “She could’ve handled you herself, but I’m a man of my word.”
Alaire suddenly realized the music had stopped.
The party dissolved, replaced by an unfamiliar castle surrounding her—Kole’s illusion.
“You think because your mother is queen, you get to lord over us? Don’t get me started on who she?—”
Dawson struck before the insult could finish, fists flying like lightning—a swift jab followed by a brutal uppercut to Kole’s jaw.
The illusion shattered, the castle breaking apart like glass.
Kole staggered back, clutching his mouth. Alaire hoped a sizable bruise would soon mar those perfect, plastic features. “She’s nothing.” He spat the word, gesturing dismissively at her.
The tempest in Dawson’s eyes flared. His hand clenched, and Kole’s breath hitched, erupting into a litany of coughs as Dawson’s power pressed, heavy and unrelenting, against his chest. Finally, Dawson released him.
Kole gasped for air.
With a flick of his hand, Dawson sent a powerful gust at Kole.
The force rattled nearby tables, glasses clinking as the wind slammed into Kole’s chest, lifting him off his feet and hurling him into the wall with a bone-rattling thud .
The impact reverberated through the room, silencing nearby chatter.
Dawson turned slightly, his gaze sharp and unyielding.
“She’s worth ten of you.”
Kole’s only response was a whimper.
Alaire ignored how her heart seized. Gods, she hated how those five words settled into cracks she’d spent years trying to seal—hated how they made her feel seen.
“You’re lucky I stepped in to save you from her vengeance. Don’t let her beauty fool you—she’s as lethal as she is exquisite.”
Her fingers traced the hollow of her throat. She didn’t know what startled her more: Dawson’s effortless command of his magic or the way his words made her feel. And gods help her, heat coiled low in her stomach, and she despised herself for it.
Dawson lifted his hand, and in strode Caius. “Nothing to see here,” Caius said in an authoritative tone. “Let’s get back to the party.”
From the back of the room, a loud “Hells yeah” broke the tension. The music resumed. As the crowd shifted and laughter cautiously trickled back in, Caius grabbed Kole by the shoulder and dragged him into the shadows.
Dawson turned to face Alaire, his expression unreadable. “Are you alright?”
Alaire met his gaze, her emotions a tangled mess of gratitude and irritation.
“Thank you. But I didn’t need your help.
” The words tasted like a lie. She had needed help, and Dawson had delivered—again.
Worse, the declarations he’d made… gods, her heart rioted in her chest, savoring them.
They’d be burned into her memory for the rest of the night.
Dawson’s lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe not, but I wasn’t about to stand by and watch him harass you.”
Her hands clenched at her sides, knuckles whitening. “And what? Stepping in makes you my hero?”
“No. It’s about making sure that pompous ass knows he can’t get away with treating you—or any other woman—like that.” Dawson crossed his arms, the movement taut with restrained energy. “You’re certainly not the first person he’s felt entitled to.”
“How noble.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her tone.
“That’s not what I?—”
“I’m not a damsel in distress, Dawson.” Every time he interfered, it proved to everyone that she was precisely what they thought: weak and inferior. He couldn’t step in every time she was challenged, partner or not. Because if she couldn’t endure Aeris Academy, she’d have to survive the vampires.
She stepped closer until they were toe-to-toe. “I never have been. I never will be. I’ve always had to take care of myself.”
His eyes darkened. “Trust me, you’ve made it abundantly clear to everyone”—he threw his arm out to the crowd—“that you are not.” His jaw tightened. “But I’m not the type of person who’s going to stand there and watch as?—”
“As what? As I handle my battles? You did more than ‘not watch’ during the match too. You interfered, Dawson. You feel responsible because I’m your partner, but I can handle myself.
Your intervention helps no one. When you’re no longer forced to be my ally, I’ll survive or die on my own merit, just as I always have. Without you .”
He stepped closer, the gap between them now mere inches. “I told them to stay away from you at your request, Alaire. You either want my help, or you don’t. You can’t have it both ways. You’re more than capable of outsmarting them, but?—”
“But nothing,” Alaire interrupted, her voice rising.
“You think that makes me feel better? That makes me feel respected?” She shook her head, ponytail swishing against her shoulders.
“I told you to have them lay off the taunts, not make me more of a target, which is exactly what you keep doing with your savior routine.”
Dawson’s expression softened, anger giving way to something more pained, more earnest. “Alaire, that’s not it. I?—”
She didn’t let him finish. “I have at no point asked for or required a rescuer. All it does is reinforce the belief that I don’t belong here.” She lifted her chin. “And I do.”