The next day, the sun had barely started bleeding through the windows of their shared quarters when Renee turned the lock behind her with a decisive click.

Damien was halfway through buttoning his shirt, hair still damp from a too-quick shower when she leaned her back against the door and crossed her arms.

“Don’t put that on,” she said.

He looked up, brow arched. “We’re going to be late.”

She pushed off the door with a slow step forward. “Only if you say no.”

Damien hesitated. Just enough.

Renee stopped before him, hands sliding under the hem of his half-buttoned shirt. “Come on, just for a minute.”

He caught her wrists gently. “You know who teaches the first period.”

“Sylus?” she smirked. “Even better.”

“Renee…” His voice lowered, almost warning.

“You're not scared of him, are you?”

“Not scared,” Damien said dryly. “I just don’t want to give him another reason to growl through an entire lecture.”

She leaned up and kissed his jaw — soft, warm, lingering long enough.

Damien exhaled like someone losing a battle he’d already planned to fail. “You're dangerous in the mornings.”

“I'm always dangerous,” she whispered, brushing her lips across his neck. “But especially when I’m in the mood, and you’re already half undressed.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “This is emotional manipulation.”

“Correct,” she said, reaching for his waistband. “Now, are we doing this, or should I see if Sasha's free?”

He growled low in his throat, pulling her into him. “You’re evil.”

“And you love it.”

“I do,” he murmured, voice already shifting rough. “Gods, I do.”

He spun her around gently, pressing her toward the wall as her hands braced flat against the surface. His fingers slid down her sides, lifting the hem of her skirt as he leaned in close.

“You’re always like this,” he said into her ear. “The minute I think I’ve had enough of you, you do something like this and set me on fire again.”

The air between them grew hot and fast — whispered things lost in kisses, her soft gasp swallowed against his throat, his voice rough in her ear.

“Gods, you feel like fire under my hands,” Damien murmured, breathless. “You always do.”

“You say that like you’re surprised.”

“I’m never surprised,” he growled softly, turning her and lifting her. “Just ruined. Every time.”

She smirked, lips brushing his jaw. “You like being ruined.”

“By you?” he said, mouth against her ear. “I’d crawl through hell and beg for seconds.”

She laughed — breathy, caught between pleasure and power — and tilted her head. “Then don’t hold back.”

His hands answered before his words did.

Moments slipped into heat, tension wrapped in skin and breath, his name on her lips like a prayer and a dare. Every movement said mine; every moan said yes.

And when the moment passed, they stood together — breathing in sync, foreheads nearly touching.

Damien kissed her temple and whispered, “This day’s already perfect.”

She smiled. “Told you we had time.”

They still weren’t late.

They arrived a little early — thanks to Renee dragging Damien half-jogging down the academy’s back corridor, still fixing her hair.

He stopped just shy of the main hallway. “Go ahead. I need to fix my collar. And maybe remember how to walk.”

She smirked, winked at him, and turned the corner.

And there he was.

Sylus.

Standing in the hall, flipping through a student ledger, posture too still to be casual.

She breezed past him without pause.

“Good morning, Professor Drakareth,” she said sweetly, voice velvety with too much poise.

Sylus looked up — and froze.

It hit him instantly.

The scent.

It wasn’t faint. It wasn’t lingering. It was fresh, bold, impossible to miss.

His jaw clenched. His hand crushed the corner of the page he was holding. Veins rose under the skin of his neck, and his dragon stirred like it had been insulted.

Renee didn’t look back — but she smiled as she walked.

She didn’t have to turn to know precisely what he smelled.

And Sylus couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Every calculated restraint, every self-imposed barrier snapped the moment she vanished around the corner. The hallway noise dulled. The weight of his blood — dragon, and demon both — screamed for release.

He moved.

Silent and decisive.

When he stepped into the women’s restroom, he wasn’t thinking about protocol or rules. The door clicked locked behind him. He stood to the side, not lurking — just waiting.

Not even thirty seconds passed before she stepped out of the stall, quickly drying her hands.

Her gaze lifted, and she froze mid-step.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, tone edged. “You’re in the women’s bathroom.”

Sylus didn’t move. “I am.”

“And you think that’s okay because…?”

“I didn’t come here for politeness,” he said calmly, but his voice was rough beneath the surface. “I came because I can’t do this anymore.”

She crossed her arms, giving him a once-over like he was furniture she didn’t remember ordering. “Do what, Sylus?”

“This game,” he replied. “Where you ignore me, bait me, act like none of this matters. I’m done pretending I don’t feel it. That you don’t.”

Renee narrowed her eyes. “Feel what, exactly? Your endless temper? The way you glare at me like I stabbed your ego in a past life?”

He stepped closer, careful but firm. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Deflect. Mock. Pretend.”

Her arms stayed crossed, but her stance shifted. Less indifference. More tension. “You’re the one making this complicated.”

“I didn’t make the bond,” Sylus said, voice low. “But I damn well feel it. Every time you walk into a room, every time you breathe near me. You’re under my skin, and I’ve barely touched you.”

Her jaw twitched. “You’re just—”

“I’m not just frustrated. I’m dragged toward you like gravity. And I know you feel it, too. Maybe not the same way. Maybe not yet. But it’s there.”

Renee stepped toward the door. “I’m not doing this with you.”

He reached out — not to block her, not this time — but to touch, gently, fingers brushing her wrist.

The moment contact hit, a jolt of energy snapped through them both — sudden and hot, like the crack of lightning inside the chest.

She gasped and jerked her arm back, staring at him like she wasn’t sure whether to slap him or sink into his arms.

“Sylus…”

He stared at her, eyes dark. “Just once. Let me show you what this is.”

And then he kissed her.

Hard.

Her mind screamed one thing, but her body — her soul — responded before she could stop it. She grabbed his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him back, fire meeting fire.

She didn't stop him when his hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the sink counter.

Their mouths moved like they’d done this in dreams or past lives. Her legs bracketed him, pulling him closer, anchoring him there. His hand found the back of her neck; hers curled into his collar. She was heat and resistance, melting and control, and he was nothing but need.

“Gods, you taste like a storm,” he murmured against her lips. “I’ve waited—so long—for this.”

Renee’s breath hitched. “I can’t think.”

“Then stop trying,” he growled softly, kissing down her jaw to her neck.

When his mouth brushed that place beneath her ear—the spot—she moaned without thinking.

“Sylus—”

Her voice saying his name in that tone broke the illusion.

Her eyes flew open.

And with it came reality crashing down like ice water over fire.

She pushed against him. “Stop.”

He did.

No hesitation — he stepped back, breathing hard, hands raised.

She slid down, heart hammering. Her hand found the sink’s edge for balance. Her legs felt like air.

“I need…” she said, unable to finish the sentence. “I need to process this.”

Sylus didn’t move, but his gaze was locked on her. “You felt it.”

She nodded. Barely.

“…Is this real?” she asked, her voice quiet. “We’re mates?”

His voice came back steady but thick with restraint.

“Yes.”

She got out of the bathroom the next second. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound somehow louder than it should’ve been.