Camille made a deliberate effort to avoid Vikron.
But the moment she opened her door-before she could even take a single step toward the academy, his door opened too.
He stood there, tall, quiet, unreadable, as if he'd been listening for her footsteps all morning.
She lowered her gaze immediately, bowing stiffly.
"Still angry at me?" he asked-soft, low, a voice threaded with guilt.
She didn't answer.
He hadn't told her what Melinda revealed, nor why he'd looked so torn that night. Whatever he suspected, he kept it locked behind those cold, silver eyes.
Yet one thing remained true.
Witch or wolf... he didn't care.
Whatever she was-she was his.
He stepped behind her-close enough that her breath caught, close enough that she felt the heat of his chest along her back.
He didn't tou
