"Can you please not monitor my bodily functions? It's creepy."

"I am tethered to you, angry human. I sense what you sense, whether I wish to or not. And right now, you are very... sensory."

I ignore him, focusing instead on not losing sight of Raith as he weaves through the less traveled paths of the campus. Pyrin has disappeared again, as elementals often do when not needed, but I can still feel Typhon's presence hovering close by.

He leads me to a small, sheltered alcove beneath one of the stone archways connecting the buildings. It's secluded but not completely private—anyone could pass by, though few do in the dinner rush. When he finally turns to face me, his expression is unreadable as always.

"You're avoiding me," I say, immediately regretting how accusatory it sounds.

One corner of his mouth quirks up. "I'm literally standing in front of you."

"You know what I mean. Since..." I trail off, unsure how to finish. Since he kissed me like the world was ending? Since he made me feel things I'd never felt before?

He takes a step closer, and I have to force myself not to back away—not out of fear, but because the magnetic pull between us is almost overwhelming. Up close, I can see the fine details of his scars, the way they twist across his skin like rivers of frozen fire. The flecks of orange floating in golden eyes.

"I shouldn't have done that," he says, voice rough. "Put my hands on you. It was... reckless."

"I wanted you to," I counter, refusing to let him dismiss what happened between us. "I still do."

His jaw tightens, eyes darkening as they drop to my lips. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Pretty sure I do." I step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. It's always there, that unnatural warmth—like standing near a banked fire. "Did you not want to?"

His laugh is harsh, disbelieving. "Is that what you think? That I didn't want to?"

"How would I know? You kissed me again. And you started avoiding me. Again."

"I've been busy."

"Busy avoiding me."

"Busy trying not to think about you," he growls, and the raw honesty in his voice makes my heart stutter. "Busy trying not to imagine what would have happened if we hadn't stopped that night."

The words hang between us, charged with possibilities. I can't help the way my breath catches, the way my body responds to the images his words conjure—his hands on my skin, his mouth trailing down my neck, my body pressed against his with nothing between us.

"Nessa—" He breaks off, takes a breath. "There are things happening. Dangerous things. I need to stay focused, and you..." He shakes his head. "You're a fucking distraction I can't afford right now."