Chapter 9: Leftover Ash and a Sharp Kind of Thirst
Skylar
This morning, Equilibrium didn’t feel like a magic school; it felt like a cage full of starving predators.
Iven, the wolf in my head, was still letting out a low howl, mourning the loss of physical contact with Michael.
It was bloody revolting. I hated how easily my animal instincts could betray my own common sense.
I spent an extra hour under a freezing shower this morning, trying to scrub away the lingering memory of Michael’s lips—rough, demanding, and far too much.
But it was no use. The heat buzzing under my skin—what Elroth called my first "fertile cycle"—couldn't be put out by a bit of cold water.
Luckily, I didn’t have any Werewolf 101 classes today. My only focus was keeping my dodgy magic under control.
Seeing Michael or any other wolf right now would probably just make my powers go nuclear again.
I was busy shoving heavy textbooks into my locker when a shadow fell over me. I jumped, nearly letting a spark of electricity fly from my fingertips.
"Skylar! Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a fright," a soft, anxious voice said.
It was Gils. He looked peaky, with dark circles under his eyes.
He held out a cup of hot chocolate, the sweet steam curling into the air.
"Cheers, Gils," I whispered, taking the cup.
Our hands brushed for a second, and I felt a different kind of jolt—not my magic, but my body reacting to him. Gils gasped, his pale face turning beet-red all the way to his ears.
"I... I couldn't sleep a wink last night," Gils started, his voice wobbling with massive guilt. "Seeing you shivering under that cold water... I felt like a total coward. Elroth was right; I just stood there while Michael treated you like that. I should’ve had your back, Skylar. Not just stood there like a complete muppet."
"Thanks for caring. Honestly, I should be the one apologising for snapping at you last night. You know how it is... otherwise, my room would’ve ended up looking like a pile of ancient ruins."
He cracked a smile, and I was glad for at least one positive thing this morning.
He’d always been the calm in the storm since I got to this tip, the only person who didn't look at my magic like it was some curse or "monster."
But today, something felt off. Gils’ scent, usually like fresh-cut grass, smelled... sweeter. More inviting.
"You don't owe me protection, Gils," I said, taking a deliberate step back so my wolf instincts wouldn't go mental. "Michael is my mate, according to Iven anyway. There’s nothing you can do to stop that stupid bond."
"But I want to!" Gils blurted out, a bit too loud for the busy corridor.
He looked shocked by his own outburst.
"I don't give a toss about some wolf bond. You’re Skylar. And seeing them all treat you like some trophy to be won... it makes me sick."
He looked at me with such pure longing that it actually made my chest tight.
I thought Gils was under my spell. And the worst part? I was starting to crave the attention he was giving me.
I can’t do this. He’s my mate (the friend kind, not the wolf kind). I can't use him.
"I’ve got to get to class. Thanks for the choccie."
"See ya."
I left Gils at the lockers after promising to meet him in the library later. But as I headed through the North Wing for Magic History, the temperature suddenly plummeted.
Irlan was there, leaning against a stone pillar with a kind of deadly elegance.
His uniform was mint, but his usual ‘cool as a cucumber’ mask was cracking.
As I got closer, his jaw clenched so hard I could practically hear his teeth grinding.
I tried to breeze past him, but his scent—ice and peaches—hit me like a freight train.
It was such a sharp contrast to the fire in my blood.
I wanted that cold.
"Stop right there, Skylar," Irlan’s voice sounded like a blade scraping on silver. Cold, sharp, and threatening.
I stopped, meeting his eyes, which had darkened to a deep, bruised sapphire.
"What now, Irlan? Want to slag me off again? Call me a beast with no self-control?"
Irlan moved so fast he was a blur. In a heartbeat, he was right in my face, pinning me against the freezing stone wall.
He didn't touch me, but he was close enough that I could feel the chill radiating off his vampire skin.
He took a sharp, jagged breath near the crook of my neck. I could see the faint veins around his eyes starting to pop.
He wasn't looking at me with love; he was looking at me like I was the only drop of water in a desert.
"You really haven't got a clue how dangerous your scent is right now, have you?" Irlan whispered, his voice thick with thirst.
"Stop talking rubbish, Irlan. Get lost."
Funnily enough, "getting lost" was the last thing I actually wanted him to do.
"Michael might want you as his mate, but every cell in my body wants you as... prey. Your blood... it’s..."
I froze, but it was because of the weird shiver crawling down my spine. "Want my claws to find your throat first?"
Irlan let out a low, bitter laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "That’s the problem. I’ve been parched since last night."
"Ha, pull the other one. You're being a right prick to me just because you’re thirsty? Doesn't the school give you blood bags or whatever?"
"They do, but it doesn't matter. Your blood smells stronger."
My shoulders dropped. I didn't feel weak exactly, but I let out a dry chuckle.
He sounded like he was joking, but his stiff expression actually made me feel a bit sorry for him.
"Could you actually snap my neck, Skylar?"
"No, but I could give you a massive shock."
He leaned in an inch closer, his nose almost brushing my skin. I could feel his fangs lengthening, throbbing behind his lips.
For a second, I thought he was actually going to bite me right there in the hallway.
My hand was already level with his throat, ready for whatever.
"I'd better hold back. Just stay away from me!" Irlan hissed, his eyes flashing with hatred—mostly at himself.
He turned on his heel and stormed off without looking back, leaving me standing there completely baffled.
Two guys, total opposites, and I'd managed to survive both before lunch.
"Two points for Skylar. They didn't make your life a total misery... yet."
After History, I finally made it to the library, my usual hiding spot. But today, the silence between the dusty shelves felt heavy.
In the quiet, I couldn't stop thinking about what that Incubus lad had said.
Elroth was right about one thing: I wasn't just some failure who couldn't handle her magic anymore.
I was the eye of a storm involving a dominant Alpha, a loyal friend who was becoming obsessed, and a posh vampire who was starving for my blood.
I looked at my palm, where Azazel’s sigil was faintly etched. Little sparks were still dancing there.
Honestly, that Incubus guy was doing my head in—always talking in riddles and breathing all over me to wind up my wolf side.
I looked left and right, making sure he wasn't about to pop up out of thin air like a typical demon.
The second I sat down, my peace was wrecked again.
Iven started howling in my head again—not for Michael this time, but out of pure confusion.
We were wolves, but we were something else too. In a school full of randy teens and strict hierarchies, I’d just become the most wanted target—and the most dangerous.
"You look a proper mess, Little Wolf," a familiar voice chirped from behind a bookshelf.
"Bloody hell! You actually showed up."
"Wow, I’m flattered I was on your mind."
He was always there, wasn't he? Watching the chaos he'd helped create with that smug grin.
"Jog on, Elroth," I said, exhausted. "I’m not in the mood for your games. I want to read."
"Oh, this isn't a game, Skylar. It’s a heads-up," he stepped forward, eyes glittering with secrets. "You think Michael is your biggest headache because he’s your mate? Have a look around. Gils is losing his marbles because of his 'pure' love, and Irlan... that stuck-up vampire is going to realize his thirst isn't about hunger. It’s because you’re the only thing that makes him feel alive."
I balled my fists, feeling the power surging inside me. "Will you shut it?"
"We'll see how long you can hold out, darling," Elroth chuckled, then vanished into the shadows of the stacks, leaving me in a very lonely, very suffocating silence.