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“This is bullshit,” Adrian spits, still trying to twist out of the other man’s grip. “Get off me. I said get the fuck off me⁠—”

“Careful,” I call after him, still smiling. “You’ve already made enough of a scene.”

That earns me a look promising absolutely nothing good, and fuck me if I don’t hope somebody caught the whole thing on camera.

Damaris watches Adrian go with a look of absolute horror on his face. “Should I⁠—”

“Don’t worry, baby boy.” Lucan tosses his bike keys into the air and catches them again. “I’ll take you home.”

“I don’t need a ride from a stranger.” Damaris pockets the last of his winnings, chin up. “I have a bike.”

“You have a friend being folded into a car by the Voss family’s cleanup man, and no way to follow.” Lucan’s grin holds. “Consider me an upgrade.”

Damaris opens his mouth, finds nothing to argue with, and closes it again.

Lucan looks ridiculously pleased with himself as Damaris blinks at him.

Cocky bastard.

I can still hear Adrian shouting after the door closes behind him. Judging by the scene he just made, tonight’s only going to get worse for him.

And I plan on enjoying every second of it.

6

ROWAN

Iwake up thinking about his mouth.

It's barely five in the morning, and he's already here.

His body at my back while I played. His hand around my throat. The heat of him behind me. The brush of his mouth near my ear. His voice so close I felt it before I really heard it.

The stupid thing is that I keep replaying it, turning the memory over and over like if I look at it long enough, it'll stop meaning so much.

It shouldn't. It was one conversation, one song, one stupid moment.

So why does it feel like something I've been missing?

Rain taps against the dorm windows as I slip out of bed. Damaris is out cold beside me with one arm over his face and his curls crushed flat on one side. I stand there for a second, stupidly grateful he's here, then pull on my clothes and slip into the empty corridor beyond.

I start walking. And because apparently my brain hates me, it circles right back to him.

What would it feel like if he actually kissed me?

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Good Light. This is exactly why I got up.

Not because of Ciaran. Definitely not because of Ciaran.

Because sometime around four-thirty, staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping, I remembered something Halvern mentioned during intake.

Most of Sero's historical archives were digitized decades ago, but access isn't public. Caervast maintained one of the largest academic collections on the planet, which hadn't meant much to me until now.

Now, after finding Black Chapel, finding Ciaran Virel, and spending half the night wondering whether any of it connects back to Sola, it feels worth checking.

Anything is better than lying awake thinking about him.