CHAPTER 2

The classroom felt different after that first glance.

Not loud. Not obvious. Just… off.

Every time I looked up from my notes, I felt it—his eyes on me. Not staring exactly. Not the careless kind of attention students gave when they were bored. This was deliberate. Quiet. Like he was observing me without needing to move.

I tried to ignore it at first.

I focused on the board. The markers. The familiar routine that usually grounded me. Attendance. Notes. The steady sound of my own voice as I spoke. But the feeling didn’t fade. If anything, it settled deeper, curling low in my chest.

When I glanced in his direction again, Kael was leaning slightly forward in his seat. One arm rested casually on the desk, fingers relaxed, posture loose.

Too loose. He looked comfortable in a way that didn’t match a lecture hall. Like this space belonged to him as much as it did to me.

His gaze met mine for half a second.

I looked away first.

That alone annoyed me.

This wasn’t polite curiosity. It wasn’t admiration or interest like I’d seen before. It was heavier than that. Darker. The kind of attention that made you aware of yourself—your movements, your breathing, the way you stood.

My stomach tightened.

I forced myself to continue the lecture, pretending nothing was wrong. My pen moved across the paper. My voice stayed even. Anyone watching would think I was calm.

I wasn’t.

Around him, the room felt tense. Students whispered quietly, glancing in his direction when they thought no one noticed. Some looked nervous. Some looked impressed. A few looked like they were holding their breath.

Kael didn’t react.

If he heard them, he didn’t care. If he noticed the looks, he ignored them. His attention stayed on me, steady and unbroken.

I shifted my weight slightly, adjusting my stance. The movement sent a faint ache through my side. I masked it quickly. No one needed to know.

Certainly not him.

As I spoke, I became painfully aware of how closely he listened. Not writing. Not distracted. Just watching, as if every word mattered. As if I mattered.

That thought unsettled me more than I liked.

The lecture dragged longer than usual. Or maybe it only felt that way because my nerves were stretched thin. When I finally dismissed the class, the relief was immediate.

Chairs scraped against the floor. Conversations picked up. Students gathered their things and filtered toward the exit.

I packed my notes quickly, keeping my head down.

I wanted to leave.

I needed to leave.

But when I reached the door, something made me pause.

Kael stood.

Slowly. Calmly. No rush.

The room seemed to quiet around him, even as people continued to move. His presence filled the space without effort. He didn’t block my path. Didn’t speak. He just watched me.

Waiting.

I felt my heartbeat quicken. My instincts screamed at me to walk faster, to get out, to put distance between us. But I didn’t break into a run. I didn’t even hurry.

I refused to look afraid.

As I stepped past him, his gaze lifted to meet mine. Sharp. Knowing. Unyielding. There was no warmth in it. No hostility either. Just control.

I swallowed.

For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded. Like it was just the two of us standing there, locked in something unspoken.

Then I moved.

I walked out of the room with my back straight and my head high, even though my pulse raced and my thoughts scattered.

Outside the hall, I finally breathed.

I didn’t look back.

But I knew—without a doubt—that this wasn’t the last time I’d feel his eyes on me.

This semester wasn’t just going to test me academically.

It was going to test my control.

And I had a feeling Kael already knew that.