MOONBOUND: THE HUMAN HEART

Chapter 6 – The First Kiss

I should have run.

Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to turn around, to flee, to put as much distance between Lukas and myself as possible. But my legs wouldn't move. My feet were rooted to the floor, my hand frozen on the door handle, my eyes locked on his.

Mate with me.

The words echoed in my skull, bouncing off the walls of my brain like bullets in a chamber.

"No," I said.

Lukas's smile didn't waver. "No?"

"That's what I said." I forced my legs to move, turned the handle, pulled the door open. "I'm not mating with anyone. I'm not a prize to be won. I'm not a weapon to be used."

"Ela—"

"I said no."

I stepped into the hallway.

And Lukas followed.

He caught up to me in three strides.

His hand closed around my arm—not gentle this time. Firm. Demanding. He pulled me back toward his door, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to bruise.

"Let go of me."

"Not until you hear me out."

"I heard you. I said no."

"Ela, please." His voice cracked on the word. For a moment, the mask slipped, and I saw something underneath. Something desperate. Something almost... scared. "You don't understand what's coming. The others—they won't ask. They'll just take. I'm trying to give you a choice."

"By forcing me?"

He flinched.

I yanked my arm free. "That's not a choice, Lukas. That's just a different kind of cage."

His green eyes darkened. The softness I'd glimpsed vanished, replaced by something harder. Sharper. More dangerous.

"You think Nikolai will be different?" he asked, his voice low. "You think Kai will ask politely? Thorne?" He laughed—a hollow, bitter sound. "They're wolves, Ela. We're all wolves. And wolves don't ask permission."

"Then maybe I should stay away from all of you."

"Too late for that."

He stepped toward me.

I stepped back.

He stepped forward again, and suddenly my back hit the wall. The cold stone pressed against my spine, and Lukas's body blocked out everything else—the light, the air, the possibility of escape.

"Lukas, don't—"

"I'm sorry."

He kissed me.

It wasn't gentle.

It wasn't the kind of kiss you see in movies, the kind that makes your heart flutter and your toes curl. It was hard. Demanding. His lips crushed against mine, and one hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back, while the other pressed against my hip, pinning me to the wall.

I couldn't breathe.

Couldn't think.

Couldn't do anything but feel—his mouth on mine, his body against mine, the heat of him seeping through my clothes like fire.

And for one terrible, shameful second, I didn't push him away.

Because no one had ever kissed me before.

No one had ever looked at me like I was something worth wanting. Worth fighting for. Worth taking.

But that second passed.

And then I was pushing. Shoving. My hands against his chest, my nails digging in, my teeth closing on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

Lukas pulled back with a hiss.

His lip was bleeding. A thin line of red traced down his chin, and he touched it with his fingers, staring at the blood like he couldn't believe what had just happened.

"You bit me," he said.

"You kissed me without permission."

"I told you. Wolves don't ask."

"Then maybe you should learn."

I shoved past him, stumbling down the hallway, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. My lips were still tingling. My skin was still burning where he'd touched me.

And somewhere deep in my chest, something was waking up. Something dark. Something hungry.

Something that had liked being kissed.

I hated myself for that.

I made it to the staircase before I heard the growl.

Not Lukas. Someone else.

I turned.

Nikolai was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his ice-blue eyes fixed on my face. On my lips. On the way my hands were shaking.

"What happened?" His voice was flat. Controlled. But his hands—his hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and I could see the veins standing out in his neck.

"Nothing."

"Your lipstick is smeared. Your hair is a mess. And you smell like—" He stopped. Inhaled. His whole body went rigid. "You smell like him."

"Nikolai, please—"

"Did he touch you?"

"It doesn't matter—"

"Did he touch you?"

The words came out as a roar. The walls shook. Dust rained down from the ceiling. And Nikolai's eyes—his ice-blue eyes—were no longer blue.

They were gold.

Burning, furious, ancient gold.

I took a step back. "Nikolai, calm down—"

"Answer me."

"He kissed me." The words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other. "I didn't want him to. I pushed him away. I bit him. I—"

Nikolai moved.

I didn't see him go. One moment he was at the bottom of the stairs. The next, he was gone, and I heard a crash from somewhere above me—the sound of a door being ripped off its hinges, wood splintering, glass shattering.

I ran after him.

By the time I reached Lukas's quarters, the door was in pieces.

Nikolai had Lukas pinned against the wall, one hand around his throat, the other drawn back in a fist that was already bloodied. Lukas's nose was broken. His lip was split open again. But he was smiling.

"That's it," Lukas choked out. "Show everyone what you really are."

Nikolai punched him.

The sound was sickening—flesh against flesh, bone against bone. Lukas's head snapped back, and blood sprayed across the wall.

"Stop!" I screamed.

Neither of them listened.

Nikolai hit him again. And again. And again. Each blow landed with a wet crunch, and Lukas took every one of them, still smiling, still bleeding, still enjoying it.

"You're going to kill him!"

"Good."

"Nikolai, stop!"

I threw myself between them.

For a moment, everything froze.

Nikolai's fist was inches from my face. His chest was heaving. His eyes—still gold, still burning—stared down at me with an intensity that made my bones ache.

"Move," he said.

"No."

"Ela, move."

"You're going to kill him."

"Yes."

"Then I'm not moving."

We stood there, locked in a standoff, my body pressed against his, his fist raised, Lukas's blood dripping onto the floor between us.

Slowly, so slowly, Nikolai lowered his arm.

His hands were shaking.

"Why?" he asked. His voice cracked. "Why do you protect him?"

"Because I don't want anyone else to die for me."

Something in his face shifted. The gold faded from his eyes, replaced by blue—ice-blue, cold-blue, the blue of glaciers and frozen seas. But underneath the cold, there was something else.

Pain.

"Fine," he said. He grabbed my wrist. "You're coming with me."

"Where—"

"Somewhere safe."

He pulled me out of the room, past Lukas's broken body, past the shattered door, down the stairs, through hallways I didn't recognize, past students who scattered like leaves before a storm.

I stumbled after him, trying to keep up, my wrist burning where he held me.

"Nikolai, slow down—"

"No."

"My room is the other way—"

"You're not going to your room."

"Then where?"

He didn't answer.

His room was at the top of the north tower.

I'd never been inside before. I'd never even seen this part of the academy—the narrow spiral staircase, the iron door, the symbols carved into the stone that glowed faintly in the dark.

Nikolai pushed the door open and pulled me inside.

The room was huge. A bed big enough for four people dominated one wall, covered in dark furs. Bookshelves lined another wall, filled with old texts and strange artifacts. A fireplace crackled in the corner, throwing warm light across the floor.

But I barely noticed any of it.

Because Nikolai had let go of my wrist.

And now he was pacing.

Back and forth. Back and forth. His hands raking through his white-blonde hair, his jaw clenched, his whole body vibrating with barely contained fury.

"You shouldn't have gone to his dinner," he said.

"You told me that."

"I told you not to trust him."

"I don't trust him."

"Then why did you go?"

I didn't have an answer.

Nikolai stopped pacing. Turned to face me. His eyes—those impossible ice-blue eyes—locked onto mine.

"He kissed you," he said.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"What?"

"Where did he kiss you?" He was in front of me suddenly, too close, his body radiating heat. "Here?" His fingers brushed my jaw. "Or here?" They traced my lower lip.

I couldn't breathe.

"Nikolai—"

"Answer me."

"Both," I whispered.

His hand dropped.

He stepped back. Turned away. Pressed his palms against the wall, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking.

"I should have killed him," he said quietly.

"You shouldn't have."

"He touched you."

"I'm not yours, Nikolai."

He spun around. "That's where you're wrong."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and electric.

I stared at him. He stared at me.

"What did you say?" I asked.

Nikolai's chest rose and fell. His hands were still pressed against the wall, his knuckles white, his whole body trembling.

"I said," he repeated slowly, "that you're wrong. About not being mine."

"I'm not—"

"You are." He pushed off the wall and walked toward me. Slowly this time. Carefully. Like he was approaching a wounded animal. "You've been mine since the moment you stepped onto this campus. Since the moment I smelled you. Since the moment I saw you."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It doesn't have to." He stopped in front of me. Reached out. Touched my face—my cheek, my jaw, the corner of my mouth where Lukas's lips had been. "Fate doesn't make sense, Ela. It just is."

"Fate?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he turned away again. Walked to the door. And locked it.

Three bolts. A chain. And something else—something that glowed silver when his hand touched it, sealing the door shut with a pulse of light.

"What are you doing?" My voice came out higher than I wanted.

Nikolai turned to face me.

"You're staying here tonight," he said.

"What? No. I'm going back to my room."

"You're staying here."

"You can't just—"

"Ela." His voice was soft now. Almost gentle. "Lukas isn't going to stop. He's not going to forget. And after tonight, he's going to be angrier than ever." He took a step toward me. "Your room isn't safe. The hallways aren't safe. Nowhere is safe except here."

"With you?"

"With me."

I looked at the locked door. At the glowing seal. At the man standing between me and freedom.

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

Nikolai's jaw tightened.

"No," he said. "You don't."

He walked to the bed. Pulled back the furs. Grabbed a blanket and threw it on the floor in front of the fireplace.

"You can sleep there," he said. "I'll take the bed."

"Generous."

"I'm not a monster, Ela. I'm just trying to keep you alive."

He lay down on the bed, his back to me, his body rigid.

I stood in the middle of the room, my arms wrapped around myself, my heart racing.

He locked me in.

He's keeping me here.

And I don't know if I should be terrified or grateful.

I lay down on the floor. The blanket was soft. The fire was warm. And despite everything—despite the fear, the confusion, the chaos—I felt something I hadn't felt since I'd arrived at Silvermoon Academy.

Safe.

"Goodnight, Ela," Nikolai said from the bed.

"Goodnight, Nikolai."

"This doesn't change anything," he said quietly. "You're still not safe. Not really. But tonight... tonight you are."

I closed my eyes.

And for the first time in days, I slept.