Chapter 6

I followed Takoda into the lecture hall with my coffee still warm in my hand, and my dignity somewhere behind me in the hallway; probably dead beneath Professor Smith’s judgment.

Taking my usual seat halfway up the room, I set my bag down and tried very hard not to look toward the back row. I failed almost immediately.

Takoda had already claimed the same seat as he had on Monday, tucked high enough in the room that he could see every entrance, every aisle, and every person moving beneath him. 

One arm rested loosely across the desk while the other hand remained wrapped around his coffee cup, his attention forward like we hadn’t just been standing close enough for me to notice the scent of winter air and smoke clinging to him.

The same thought kept circling through my head anyway; control. Not calm exactly. More like the kind of control that came from learning the hard way what happened when you lost it. Which somehow made him even hotter.

Fantastic.

I dragged my notebook from my bag a little harder than necessary.

“Subtle,” the blonde girl beside me whispered while sliding into her chair.

I glanced sideways as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, amusement already pulling at her mouth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered while uncapping my pen.

“Sure you don’t.” She snorted softly before pulling her laptop from her bag.

At her sarcasm, heat crawled slowly up my neck. I knew exactly what she was talking about.

Thankfully, Professor Smith entered before I could embarrass myself further. He crossed toward the front of the lecture hall carrying the same battered leather satchel from Monday before dropping it onto the desk with a dull thud.

“Good morning,” he greeted while glancing over the room. “Today we begin discussing ritual fear, specifically the way societies decide what is human, what is holy, and what must be hunted.”

My pen stilled briefly against the paper. Hunted…the word settled strangely in my stomach.

Behind me, I heard movement; not sound exactly. But more, a sort of knowing and my shoulders tightened before I could stop them.

Professor Smith turned toward the board and wrote in sharp slanted letters:

THE MONSTER IS OFTEN THE BORDER.

“The monster,” he continued while setting the marker aside, “is rarely just a monster. It becomes a warning label. A symbol. A body placed at the edge of what society refuses to understand.”

I swallowed slowly and copied the sentence into my notebook even though it felt less like class notes and more like something pressing uncomfortably against my ribs.

The blonde girl beside me leaned closer. “That’s creepy.”

“Yeah,” I murmured while underlining the sentence a little too hard.

Professor Smith’s gaze swept the room before landing directly on me. “Miss Dawson.”

Oh, naturally!

I lifted my head. “Yes?”

“What makes a monster useful to society?” he questioned while leaning lightly against the desk.

Every eye in the room suddenly seemed to turn toward me. Including, I knew without looking, his.

Nervously flicking my pen between my forefinger and thumb, I cleared my throat and shifted slightly in my seat. “It gives people somewhere to place their fear,” I answered carefully. “If they can label something dangerous, then they don’t have to question themselves.”

Professor Smith nodded once, looking pleased. “Excellent.”

Heat warmed my face, but something colder moved underneath it, because the second the words left my mouth, I thought of Takoda.

The way he watched doors. The scrape across his knuckles. The warning threaded through nearly everything he said.

People get hurt chasing things they don’t understand.

I lowered my gaze back to my notes while class continued around me. Professor Smith launched into folklore, persecution, and the long history of fear reshaping societies into something uglier.

Normally, I would have loved every second of this lecture. Today my concentration kept drifting backward toward the constant awareness of Takoda sitting behind me.

Which was honestly getting embarrassing at this point, and by the time class finally ended, my nerves felt stretched thin.

Students packed up around me while conversations slowly rose through the room. Chairs scraped against the floor, bags zipped shut, and jackets were pulled on against the cold outside.

I moved slower than usual, pretending to reorganize notes I’d already arranged twice.

Do not look back.

I shoved my pen into my bag.

Do not wait for him.

I zipped the bag closed.

Do not be pathetic.

“Analiese.”

My heart kicked hard enough to annoy me.

I turned before I could pretend not to hear him.

Takoda stood two steps behind me with his bag slung over one shoulder, dark eyes fixed steadily on my face.

The blonde girl beside me glanced between us once before immediately disappearing into the crowd with the speed of someone who sensed drama and preferred surviving it from a safe distance.

Honestly? Respect.

“Hi,” I greeted while pushing the strap of my bag higher onto my shoulder, because apparently all higher brain function had abandoned me.

His gaze flicked briefly toward the crowded aisle before returning to me again. “Walk with me.”

The low command in his voice sent another irritating wave of warmth through my chest.

Naturally, that annoyed me. Naturally, I followed him anyway.

We stepped out into the hallway with students flowing around us in steady waves. Takoda kept a careful distance beside me, close enough that I remained aware of his body heat without his arm brushing mine.

The restraint somehow bothered me more than touching would have, which felt like a personal problem I would unfortunately have to live with.

“You do realize most people ask before issuing commands,” I pointed out while adjusting the strap of my bag higher onto my shoulder.

“I did ask.” His gaze flicked briefly toward a group shoving past us before returning to me again.

I glanced sideways at him. “You said walk with me.”

His mouth shifted faintly. “You walked.”

“That is not the point.” I fought the urge to smile and lost badly.

“No?”

“No,” I answered.

We reached the stairwell where the crowd finally thinned out. Cold gray light spilled through the tall windows behind him, catching briefly in the dark waves of his hair.

For one distracted second, I forgot what I was annoyed about. Then his gaze dropped briefly toward my mouth before lifting again, and my pulse immediately lost what little professionalism it had left.

Wonderful. My nervous system had apparently decided survival instincts were optional now.

“What did you want?” I asked while curling my fingers tighter around my coffee cup.

His expression tightened slightly. “You should be careful around Callum.”

I blinked once. “Who?”

“The guy from the hall.”

“The guy from my literature class?” I clarified while pushing lightly off the railing.

“Yes.”

A short laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “You don’t even know him.”

His jaw shifted slightly. “I know enough.”

“No, you don’t,” I corrected while crossing my arms loosely over my chest. “You watched him talk to me for maybe thirty seconds and decided what? That he’s dangerous?”

Takoda stepped closer, not enough to touch me, but enough that my back brushed lightly against the cold railing behind me anyway.

His eyes held mine steadily, dark and unreadable. “I decided he was too close.”

The words landed low in my stomach, calm enough to feel far more dangerous than if he’d snapped them out in anger.

Heat spread through me so fast it nearly made me dizzy. Which was deeply inconvenient.

I forced my chin upward slightly. “That sounded dangerously close to jealousy.”

Something flickered briefly behind his eyes. “Jealousy is simple.” His voice lowered slightly as he said it.

My heartbeat thudded harder. “And this is?”

His gaze moved slowly across my face, restrained but no longer entirely cold. “Not simple.”

The stairwell suddenly felt way too small for my rapidly deteriorating decision-making skills.

Voices echoed faintly from below while students moved somewhere above us, but all of it seemed distant beneath the weight of his attention.

Takoda lifted his hand slowly, and for one reckless second, I thought he was about to touch me.

Instead, his fingers closed carefully around the strap of my bag where it had slipped lower on my shoulder. He adjusted it slowly, his knuckles brushing the sleeve of my coat in the process.

Barely anything, but my body noticed anyway.

Judging by the slight tightening in his expression, he noticed too.

“You should go,” he murmured while letting his hand fall away.

A softer laugh escaped me this time. “You keep saying that.”

“Because you keep staying.”

I looked up at him, chest tight and thoughts completely wrecked. “Maybe I’m bad at taking warnings.”

His eyes darkened slightly. “That’s what worries me.”

For a long second neither of us moved. Then the door above us opened and several students came clattering noisily down the stairs.

Takoda stepped back immediately, putting space between us so fast it almost felt practiced.

The sudden loss of warmth irritated me more than it should have. Which also felt like a personal problem.

I adjusted my bag slowly, fingers tightening briefly around the strap where his hand had been.

“I’ll see you Friday,” I told him while stepping backward toward the stairs.

His gaze stayed fixed on mine. “You shouldn’t.”

A small smile tugged briefly at my mouth despite myself. “But I will.”

Walking away from him took more effort than I wanted to admit. I made it halfway down the stairs before glancing back.

Takoda remained standing on the landing, still as stone, watching me leave with the same dangerous focus he seemed to bring to everything around him. And the worst part? Some reckless little part of me wanted to turn around and walk right back to him.