LEXI
45
I’m jolted awake by a soft chiming sound. It’s pretty, delicate, almost musical and definitely not my phone alarm. For one confused second I lie perfectly still, blinking into the dim morning light spilling through the curtains. Then curiosity wins. I throw my blankets off and push myself upright. The moment my feet hit the floor, the chiming cuts off mid–note, like someone pressed pause on the world.
“Okay, creepy.” I mutter. I check my phone anyway. Alarm: Off. Not snoozed. Not dismissed. Just… Off. Did the Academy turn off my alarm for me? Is that allowed? Is that normal? Probably yes, probably yes, and probably I should stop asking questions before the walls start answering. I glance at the clock, seven a.m. sharp. The exact time printed on my schedule. Speaking of which… My schedule is sitting neatly on my bedside table. Not where I left it last night. Not even the same paper. Just a new, crisp sheet waiting for me like it has expectations.
Schedule- Alexis Elle
Daily schedules can be found on the table by bed each morning. Please carry it with you at all times. Schedule may change at any time.
TUESDAY
7am – Wake Up / Get Ready
8am – Breakfast
9am – Basic Potion Making
10:30am – Basic Spellcasting
12pm Shifter Basics
1:30pm- Lunch Break
2:30pm- Medicinal Mugle
4pm Free Time / Individual Study
.
7pm Dinner / With Blake Nyvas
Academy Gates are locked at midnight. They will not open again until seven am for any reason
I stare at the last part. My eyebrows climb hallway up my forehead. I meant to ask him. I was planning to ask him. But the Academy apparently decided that wasn’t fast enough and went ahead and booked it on my behalf. Should I he Battered? Concerned? Both?
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10:15 Thu, Mar 26
Chapter 17 17- Do Not Let Him Give You Gifts
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“Convenient… Mostly. Probably.” I mumble, rubbing my face. Because sure, it saves me the awkward ‘Hey do you want to eat together again?‘ conversation… But also, who gave the Academy permission to manage my social calendar? Did it read my mind? Did it monitor last night’s vibe? Did it see us laughing on my bed and think, ‘Yes, excellent, recurring dinner slot confirmed?‘ I sigh and head toward the shower. Day two at Magic School. Woken by a ghost alarm. Schedule updated by an invisible personal assistant. Dinner automatically booked with a dragon guy who has already offered to commit arson for me. Yeah. Totally normal.
1 jump in the shower, letting the warm water chase away the remnants of sleep, then check my closet again. As expected, the academy has decided what I’m wearing today. A pale pink fitted long–sleeve top. Soft blue jeans. White wedge heels. Heels? For a full day of classes? Normally I would never pick these unless I was trying to impress someone, or torture myself, but when I slip them on, they’re… Comfortable. Suspiciously comfortable. Like memory foam marshmallows strapped to my feet.
“Alright, academy, I’ll trust your fashion sense. But if these betray me on the stairs, we are breaking up.” I mutter at my closet. For a
moment I swear I get the impression of laughter. But I’m fairly sure that it’s just my imagination. Mostly sure… I move over to check my
appearance. My reflection in the mirror looks surprisingly put–together for someone who woke up twenty minutes ago. The pink brings
out the natural blush in my lips and cheeks. My complexion looks clearer than usual, thank you magical humidity control or whatever is
going on in this building. I blow dry my hair until it’s damp instead of dripping and add a touch of mascara to make my eyes pop.
Nothing fancy. Just enough that I look like I tried. I slip my dorm key necklace over my head and give a final approving nod to myself in
the mirror. I’m brushing the last tangles out of my damp hair when someone knocks on my door. The brush is halfway stuck in my hair as
I pull the door open. Blake stands there. He looks… Good. Unfairly good for this hour of the morning. His dark blue jeans fit him a little
too well, and his grey shirt clings in ways that should be illegal. His hair is damp like mine, messy in a way that suggests either a rushed
morning or natural perfection. Probably both.
“Morning!” I chirp automatically, yanking the brush free and nearly taking out a chunk of hair with it. He gives a small nod.
“Good morning.” His voice is low and rough edged. Morning voice? Murderous–before–breakfast voice? No idea, but something about it sends a warm fizz down my spine. I turn back into my room to finish brushing my hair.
“Come on in.” I invite. Blake steps inside and settles in the same chair he claimed last night. He sits differently today, upright, alert, like he’s evaluating the space again. Or maybe just me. Hard to tell.
“I’ll be just a minute, then we can go for breakfast.” I say, smoothing out my hair and adjusting my part.
“I didn’t even ask about breakfast yet, though.” He points out. I pause mid–brush and glance at him in the mirror. He looks completely calm… But something in his tone doesn’t match. Almost too quick. Too neutral. I laugh lightly, pretending not to notice the weirdness. No point interrogating him, it feels like pushing would make him shut down.
“Well unless you’re planning to skip breakfast, we might as well go together. That is why you stopped by, tight I say cheerfully. There’s
the tiniest hitch, barely noticeable, before he nods.
“Yes.” He answers. It’s not teclinically a lie. But definitely not the whole truth either. I decide to let it go. It he wants to tell me more, he will. Blake doesn’t strike me as someone who likes being messed I grab my bag, double check my key necklace, and turn to him with a
smile.
“Ready to go?” I ask.
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10:15 Thu, Mar 26
Chapter 17 17- Do Not Let Him Give You Gifts
🙂)
45
Blake stands, but he doesn’t turn toward the door yet. Instead, he takes a single, deliberate step closer. My smile doesn’t falter, but every prey–instinct 1 apparently have sits bolt upright. He steps closer again. He isn’t looming or posturing or doing anything technically threatening, but… Well… He’s a dragon. A creature built out of silent power and predatory grace. Plus he’s a lot bigger than I am. And right now, he’s moving like he’s stalking something. Me. I force myself not to shift back. Not after the mess with Aaron. Not after telling myself I wouldn’t let anyone intimidate me here. So I hold my ground, tilt my chin up, and meet Blake’s gaze head–on. He stops just out of arm’s reach. Close enough that I can feel the faint warmth radiating from him, but not close enough to actually touch. Suddenly, he
thrusts his hand forward.
“Here. This is for you.” He says bluntly. I blink.
“What…?” 1 mumble. I reach out on instinct, and something small and cool drops into my palm. A bracelet. A delicate gold chain dotted with tiny pink stones, each one catching the light like… Sunrise on water. It’s beautiful, glittering and impossibly elegant. The kind of thing you’d find in a glass case at a jewellery store, not something someone just… Gives you.
“It’s stunning.” I breathe, still staring at it.
“But… Why are you giving this to me exactly?” I ask. Blake shrugs, but it’s stiff, too casual to be casual.
“Because I want to. I had it in my hoard. I thought you might like it.” He answers. My eyes snap up to his. From his hoard? His actual hoard? Yesterday he practically snarled about burning down villages over stolen treasure, and now he’s just… Handing a piece of it to me?
“That’s… I mean… Blake.” I stammer.
“You said dragons are possessive of their treasures. Obsessive, even. Why would you give something from your hoard to me?” I question. The question hangs between us, heavy and confusing. And Blake… Well he just stares at me with that unreadable, molten–gold gaze, expression carved from something sincere and careful, like he’s waiting to see whether I keep the gift or drop it. I feel like the answer
matters. A lot.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
