Chapter 36 36- Do Not React When He Sniffs You Like You’re The Main Course
LEXI
I rush over and throw the door open.
“Morning!” I sing out. Blake raises an eyebrow.
“How are you today?” He asks, his voice calm, but deadly serious.
“I am one hundred percent, totally good.” I answer honestly. He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he studies my face for a long second, like he’s weighing my words against something internal. Then, very deliberately, he reaches for my hand. He lifts it slowly, carefully. The way he holds it reminds me absurdly of a romance movie, like a prince about to bow over a lady’s hand and kiss it dramatically. Except Blake doesn’t kiss it. He leans closer, his focus shifting entirely as he inspects my arm. His fingers are warm as they glide over my skin, slow and careful. He traces along my wrist, up my forearm, over my elbow and higher still, his touch feather-light but thorough. It’s not possessive. It’s clinical. Intentional. Like he’s memorising every inch just to be sure. I can’t help it, I laugh softly.
“Seriously. I’m totally fine. Promise.” I reassure him. He nods, but he doesn’t stop. His hand continues its quiet assessment until he reaches my shoulder, his thumb brushing a spot that still feels a little tender. I have to fight the urge to shiver as awareness sparks under his touch.
“I heard you. And I believe you.” He says finally. But he still looks… Unsettled.
“You say you believe me, and I believe you. Like, I don’t think you think I’m lying. But you still somehow seem very… Unconvinced.” I point out gently. His gaze lifts to meet mine.
“Some things, I need to see with my own eyes.” He says evenly, Then, at last, he seems satisfied. The tension eases from his shoulders. His grip loosens, not releasing me, just shifting from inspection to something more natural. A small smile curves his mouth.
“Morning.” He adds, like it’s only just occurred to him. I laugh.
“Good morning, Blake. Shall we head to breakfast? I’m kind of starving.” I comment.
“Yes. You slept through dinner.” He replies firmly. Without ever letting go of my hand, he tugs me gently closer and slides my fingers over the bend of his arm, settling me there like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Let’s get you fed.”
At breakfast, Blake walks straight past the line.
“Blake! What are you doing?” I hiss as he tugs me along. He doesn’t slow. Doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even look back at me at first.
“Getting you food.” He answers calmly.
“You know that’s not what I meant!” I insist, half-panicked, half-aware of how many people must be watching.
“I know. But I don’t feel like waiting today. Besides, who’s going to say anything?” He challenges me. This time, he does glance back. The line is full. And yet, somehow, silent. No protests. No glares. No whispered complaints. Just a very deliberate effort from everyone behind us to suddenly find anything else worth paying attention to. Someone checks their phone. Someone else studies the floor. A third pretends they’ve forgotten how doors work. No one moves. No one stops us. And that’s when I realise this isn’t new anymore. This isn’t a one-off. They expect this now. They expect him to do this kind of thing, and for me to be beside him when he does. I open my mouth to argue again… Then stop. Because a few people back in line, I spot Mallory’s lab partner from potions. I remember the look on her face when Mallory ‘tripped.’ The way she froze. The way she didn’t say a word afterward. The way no one did. The knot of guilt in my chest loosens. Just a little. These people haven’t exactly gone out of their way to make things easier for me. I let out a slow breath.
“…Yeah. Okay.” I agree. Blake’s mouth curves into a satisfied, almost lazy smile. For a fleeting second, I consider turning around and walking back to the end of the line. Just to prove I still could. Just to prove I’m not the kind of person who cuts corners because it’s convenient. But I don’t. Partly because I’m starving. And partly, if I’m honest, because I chose to stand next to him, and this is part of what that choice means. We reach the front and start loading our plates. I take my usual portion, but the moment I’m done, Blake smoothly slides the plate out of my hands. Before I can object, he adds another piece of toast. Then another fried egg. I raise an eyebrow.
“You’re hungry. If you don’t finish it, I will.” He says, like it’s a fact beyond debate. I laugh softly.
“You just want extra breakfast.” I tease. He winks, utterly unbothered, and carries both plates toward the table that has very clearly become ours. We sit there every morning now. The same spot. The same rhythm. I’m fairly sure other students avoid the table entirely now, not because he’s ever chased anyone off, but because no one wants to test whether sitting there would count as a challenge. I definitely suspect that other people are starting to avoid it, just in case they piss Blake off by sitting there. It’s funny because I don’t think he would care. They all seem to think that he is very hot tempered, and sure when he IS angry it’s pretty intense. But with how everyone treats him I don’t think they realise just how patient he actually is with them. Well… Except for when it comes to waiting in line. As I pick up my fork, I glance back at the line one last time. I guess that isn’t some big crime. But it’s not something I would have done a week ago, and I am really not sure how I feel about that.
Once I am done shoveling food into my mouth as fast as possible, not leaving even a single bite for Blake to steal, so I guess he was right about how much food I would want, I finally slow down enough to breathe. I lean back slightly in my chair, satisfied and warm, the edge of my hunger finally dulled. Then I turn on Blake.
“So, now I really do want you to catch me up on what I missed out on in classes yesterday.” I say, fixing him with a look I can practically feel his sigh it’s so heavy, like it drags straight out of his chest and settles between us.
“We didn’t do much in basic spellcasting.” He starts, clearly resigned.
“The instructor basically read out chapter two from the textbook, then explained it again with some really badly drawn diagrams.” He grumbles. I raise an eyebrow, skeptical.
“I mean it. They were really bad drawings. I could do better.” He adds immediately, irritation creeping into his voice.
“You draw?” I ask, surprised despite myself. He shrugs, suddenly very focused on his plate.
“Sometimes.” He answers vaguely. Something about that answer makes me narrow my eyes. It doesn’t sit right. It doesn’t feel like a lie exactly, but it definitely doesn’t feel like the whole truth either.
“I think you draw more than sometimes.” I prod. He shrugs again, this time smaller, shoulders rounding just a little.
“I suppose I spend a lot of time by myself. Drawing is something to do.” He mumbles. There’s a hint of embarrassment there, subtle but unmistakable, like he hadn’t meant to admit even that much. It’s strangely endearing.
“Can I see?” I ask eagerly, leaning forward without even thinking about it.
“No.” He answers. Flat. Immediate. Absolute. Not defensive. Not annoyed. Just final. And worse, I can tell he means it. Completely. At least for now. I huff.
“Spoil sport. But fine.” I wave it off, even though I’m already mentally filing it away to revisit later.
“If you won’t show me your drawings, you can tell me about what happened in Shifter Basics.” I request. He relaxes a fraction, clearly grateful for the subject change.
“Basically people just took turns demonstrating their shifts.” He says.
“Almost the entire class took a turn. It was fairly dull.” He pauses, then snorts.
“Also, there is one guy who turned into a pig.” He comments with a laugh. I shrug.
“I quite like pigs. They’re cute, and they’re meant to be really smart.” I answer. Then I think about it properly.
“Still… It sounds like it wasn’t a bad thing that I missed class if that’s what was happening. Since I couldn’t have joined in. Did you shift?” I ask. Blake lets out a short, amused snort.
“Hell no. They didn’t ask and I didn’t offer. Besides, classrooms are a little small to be in my dragon form.” He points out. I nod along, but there’s an unexpected sense of relief that settles in my chest. I hadn’t realised I was bracing for something until it eases. I don’t love the idea of everyone else having seen him like that when I haven’t. I know it’s irrational, but the feeling is still there. Blake misreads my quiet response.
“You don’t need to worry too much about shifting.” He says, his tone gentler now.
“Plenty of people struggled with their shift or only half managed it. Once we figure out what you are, you’ll have plenty of time to catch up.” He reasons.
“And I’ll help you.” He adds. The certainty in his voice leaves no room for argument. I smile.
“Thanks Blake.”