Chapter 75 75- Never Fail To Distinguish Between Purring And
Threatening Rumbles
LEXI
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I practically bounce out of the classroom and straight into Blake. Not metaphorically. Literally. I collide with his chest because I’m not
watching where I’m going.
“I did it! I did a spell properly. And it worked! Professor Matthews even complimented me on it!” I ramble excitedly, bouncing on my toes and tugging on his arm like he might somehow miss the importance of this if I don’t physically emphasise it. Blake smiles immediately, but his eyebrows pull together slightly.
“That’s great. Uh… What spell were you doing in potions class?” He asks, clearly confused. Right. Context. I need to slow down a little.
“Oh… Well… I decided to try a repelling spell…” I say, waving a hand like it was no big deal.
“That way if anyone spilled a potion on me or anything again, it couldn’t hurt me. I wasn’t sure if it would work, but it was worth a try, right?” I explain. It’s not a lie. That IS why I wanted to use the spell. I’m just being a little vague about how likely it was that someone might actually try to spill something on me. Blake gives me a long, curious look. The kind where he’s not just listening to the words, but weighing them. His mouth tightens slightly. I can almost see him replaying the previous potions disaster in his head.
“And… Your spell worked?” He asks slowly. I nod enthusiastically.
“Yep!” I chirp out. I probably look ridiculously pleased with myself. He studies me for a beat longer than necessary.
“Good.” He says. That’s it. Just one word. But his jaw unclenches slightly, and his hand at my arm tightens before relaxing again.
“I’m so happy.” I gush, because I can’t help it.
“I finally got a spell right. Maybe I’ll be able to get another one in basic spellcasting…” I continue. The thought makes me grin even
wider.
“Oh! We should get going or we’re going to be late!” I add suddenly, glancing down the corridor.
“Wouldn’t want that.” Blake mutters dryly. But he still grabs my hand, loops it over his arm, and tugs me a little closer to his side as we start walking in the direction of our next class.
In spellcasting class, the professor doesn’t really say anything to me. Not about potions. Not about barrier spells. Not about anything. Maybe Professor Matthews hasn’t gotten a chance to speak to him yet. That would make sense. It hasn’t been that long. Although honestly… I suspect it has more to do with the fact that Blake is sitting right next to me. The professor’s gaze drifts over us once or twice, but it never lingers. He gives instructions to the room as a whole, gestures broadly, demonstrates once, and then steps back. It dims my excitement a little. Just a little though, because even if the professor isn’t paying me much attention, I have one hundred percent of Blake’s. He leans in slightly when I open my notebook. His shoulder brushes mine. His voice drops low when he reminds me of the steps.
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Chapter 75 75- Never Fail To Distinguish Between Purring And Threatening Rumbles
He doesn’t hover, not exactly, but he’s there. Steady. Focused on me like the rest of the room doesn’t exist. We decide to try the light spell again. Just to see if I can get better results this time. The professor has already moved on to explaining a completely different spell to the class, something more advanced involving layered intention and controlled projection, but I think it’s smarter for me to stick with one thing at a time. If I try to stack too much, I’ll just overwhelm myself. So I focus. Again. The steps are familiar now. The breathing. The gathering. The shaping. This time, when I push the magic outward, it responds more cleanly, Not perfectly, the light flickers for a moment before stabilising, but it holds. It works. I blink at the small orb hovering above my palm. It’s not dazzling. It’s not impressive. But it’s mine. I don’t know if something inside me has clicked, or if I’m just riding the confidence from earlier, but the difference is noticeable. The magic feels less like something I’m wrestling and more like something I’m guiding, I am on a roll. Everything is great. Best day ever. By the time we head to shifter basics, I’m practically walking on air, which is wild, because I usually dread this class. I still haven’t made much progress in shifting. But maybe today is the day. Everything else has been going my way after all. I spend the first half of class doing exactly what I always do, focusing, breathing, trying to reach for whatever part of me is supposed to respond. There’s that familiar pressure behind my eyes. That deep, internal strain, like pushing against a locked door from the inside. My body warms slightly. My pulse quickens. But nothing happens. Except the headache. That dull, aching throb that builds when I push too hard, I ease off before it gets too bad. It’s frustrating. I’ve managed multiple spells today, and they didn’t burn me out nearly as fast as I expected. So maybe it’s not that I’m weak. Maybe it’s just shifting that drains me this quickly. Or maybe I’m still doing it wrong. Midway through class,
I’m about ready to give up for the day. So I am more than a little horrified when Professor Cage claps his hands together.
“For the last half hour, I expect each of you to come to the front and demonstrate your shifts.” He announces, voice booming easily across the room. My stomach drops. Ugh, I hate teachers who expect students to ‘demonstrate for the class.‘ But… Surely he doesn’t mean all of us. Surely he knows some of us can’t. Blake can’t anyway. Dragons are way too big to shift indoors, according to him, and I’m fairly certain Professor Cage enjoys having walls intact. Blake and I are sitting at the back of the room. Which suddenly feels like both a blessing and a curse. Professor Cage starts at the front, calling students up one by one. They shift. Quickly. Almost effortlessly. Some of them are a little shaky, but most manage it within seconds. Fur, feathers, scales. The room fills with movement and magic. Every successful shift makes my stomach twist a little tighter. They make it look so easy. I press my hands against my thighs and try to calm my breathing. Maybe we’ll run out of time. Maybe someone will take longer. Maybe he’ll decide a demonstration isn’t necessary. One by one, he moves down the rows. Closer. Closer. And then he’s standing in front of me.
I sit there, frozen. Like if I don’t move, maybe he’ll forget I exist. Blake doesn’t. He looks up at Professor Cage with an expression that could best be described as unimpressed. Not surprised. Not intimidated. Just… Irritated. Professor Cage pointedly ignores him. His
attention stays on me.
“Well, Miss Elle?” He asks, his tone sharp and faintly mocking. He knows that I don’t know how to do this yet. I fight the urge to flinch. There are too many eyes on me, I can feel them. The weight of them pressing down from every angle.
“Uh… Well… I still… Can’t actually shift yet…” I mumble. The words taste bitter. A few people snigger. It’s quiet, but it’s enough. I feel myself shrink without meaning to. My shoulders curl inward slightly. My hands tighten in my lap. I hate that my voice sounded small. I hate that I’m still stuck here when everyone else can do it. Professor Cage lets out a short, derisive scoff.
“Well, Miss Elle.” He says, voice dripping with condescension.
“Maybe if you spent more time practicing and less time… Socialising… You might have actually made some progress.” He says snidely. His eyes flick meaningfully toward Blake. My jaw drops. Partly because that is wildly inappropriate. Partly because he just said it in front of the entire class. And partly because he said it like that, pointed, deliberate, right in front of Blake. To his face. Blake does not take it well. His eyes flash gold. It’s immediate. A low, dangerous rumble vibrates through his chest as he starts to rise to his feet. The air in the room changes. Professor Cage takes an instinctive step backward. He tries to hide it, but he does. I feel like I’m going to be sick. Everyone is still staring. I feel exposed. Small. Humiliated: And the worst part is that I don’t even have a defence. I CAN’T shift. He’s not wrong
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about that. But that doesn’t make it okay. Blake stands fully now. The rumble in his chest deepens, almost a growl. This is not worth it. It is not worth Blake getting in trouble. It is not worth him fighting a professor. It is not worth another incident. I reach out carefully and place a hand on his arm. His muscles are tight under my fingers. Coiled. He glances down at me. I give the tiniest shake of my head. Just
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.
