Chapter 7 Facing Sabine
IRIS
“Three days have already gone by.”
The words leave my lips before I can stop them.
Don’t tell me you’re thinking about him again. Daisy tries to nudge me with her elbow as we walk through campus toward class. The morning is bright and soft on our skin, the halls buzz with noise, but all of it feels distant.
“I just thought he’d say something,” I murmur, keeping my gaze straight ahead. “Anything.”
Daisy sighs. “Iris, they’re Lycan princes. It’s not like they punch a clock and show up to college like the rest of us. They’ve got... stuff. Rogue wars. Council meetings. Training. God knows what else.”
“I know,” I say, but I don’t feel like I know.
Because the truth is, I haven’t just been waiting for Adrian’s help.
I’ve been impatient. Restless.
I wanted to see Darian. So bad that I’ve stopped caring about explanations or logic. I just want to be near him.
It’s like something is pulling me, yanking me closer to him. A magnetic pull that I don’t understand, like my entire being craves his presence, his voice, his scent, him.
And I hate that I can’t explain it. I’m new to this world. To Lycans and wolves and whatever this bond is, and it’s confusing as hell.
We’re just a few steps from the lecture hall when a figure shifts into our path.
Sabine.
Perfect hair, a face full of makeup at 8:45 a.m, and venom in her smirk.
“Well, if it isn’t the Lycan groupie herself,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. Her voice carries just enough to draw the attention of a few lingering students nearby. “Tell me, Iris, how does it feel to whore your way into royal circles?”
She scoffed. “You couldn’t even keep Archer and now you’re whoring around with Adrian? You’re more disgusting than I imagined. One wouldn’t realize you just got your heart broken days ago.”
Daisy stiffens beside me, but I keep my face calm. I’ve heard the whispers over the past few days. That I was seen talking to Adrian the other day. That I’ve somehow ‘hooked’ a McAlister. I haven’t said a word to anyone but apparently, Sabine and her flying monkeys have been busy.
“You know,” she continues, stepping closer, “Adrian might be a McAlister, but he’s still slumming it with you. Don’t mistake that for something more.”
Her tone is acidic, but I hear it. Jealousy. It’s woven beneath every syllable.
“Is that concern I hear?” I tilt my head slightly. “You seem pressed for someone who thinks I’m beneath him. And Archer? He’s just a piece of shit just as you are and you deserve to be together. If you expect me to be miserable because he was shoving his tongue down your throat on the night of our anniversary, then I hate to disappoint you.”
Sabine’s smile flickers.
I step forward now, lowering my voice just enough for only her to hear. “I didn’t hurt you last time, Sabine. But if you try me again…”
I pause, meeting her eyes with a cool stare. “I won’t hesitate.”
Something shifts in her face, arrogance melting into fear for a split second.
Daisy nudges me gently. I push past Sabine without another word, and we enter the lecture hall, the tension still clinging to the air behind us.
Today, I wasn’t the girl who flinched.
And Sabine knows that I’m not just bluffing.
The classroom settles as the professor walks in, his usual stack of papers under one arm and a steaming cup of coffee in the other. He doesn’t waste time.
“Good morning,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “Open your journals. Today we’ll be exploring mythological symbolism in visual art.”
Daisy flips hers open beside me. I try to focus, but my mind’s still buzzing from the run-in with Sabine—and the pit in my stomach that Adrian hasn’t shown up in days.
As if summoned by my thoughts, the door creaks open behind the professor.
Every head turns.
Adrian McAlister steps in, perfectly unbothered. Tousled black hair. Lean build. That lazy confidence he wears like a second skin. My heart forgets how to beat.
The professor doesn’t look surprised. “Class, we have a new addition. Adrian McAlister will be joining us for the remainder of the semester.”
Murmurs spread instantly. A few girls whisper not-so-subtly. Adrian barely glances at anyone—except me.
His gaze lands, holds.
Then he moves. Slow, deliberate.
And chooses the empty seat right behind me.
I stiffen. Daisy raises her brows at me, smirking.
I don’t turn around, but I can feel the weight of him there. His presence hums against my skin.
He’s here. Finally.
Adrian is a literal distraction.
Throughout the lecture, I try to focus on brush strokes and symbolism, but every time he leans back, or shifts in his seat, or laughs under his breath at something someone whispers to him, I lose my grip on reality.
Girls keep turning to glance at him. Some even toss questions his way just to hear him speak. And of course, he plays along, winking, smirking, tossing out lazy replies that make them giggle like children.
The professor calls him out twice.
“Mr. McAlister, unless you have something to contribute about the depiction of power in Renaissance art, I suggest you stop distracting my class.”
Adrian only nods with that crooked smile. “Of course, Professor. I wouldn't dream of it.”
Liar.
I stare hard at my notes, jaw clenched. He hasn’t said a word to me. Not one. But he’s here, just behind me, doing everything but acknowledging me. It’s maddening.
The moment the class ends, I shoot Daisy a quick look. She opens her mouth, probably to warn me not to do anything stupid.
Too late.
Adrian’s already sauntering toward the door.
I leave my bag and push up to my feet.
“Where are you…?” Daisy starts, but I’m already slipping into the aisle, ignoring the students lingering to talk or flirt with him.
I catch him just as he turns into the hallway.
“Adrian.”
He turns, slowly, like he’s been expecting me.
His smile is instant, easy. “Miss. You stalking me now?”
I cross my arms. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He leans against the locker, eyes roaming lazily over my face. “Too late. You’re making it too easy.” When I don’t take the bait, his smirk falters slightly. “What’s on your mind, princess?”
“I asked if you’ve spoken to Darian.”
His gaze sharpens, just a little, but it’s gone in a blink. “Why would I do that?”
“I need to talk to him. You said you’d help-”
“I said nothing of the sort.” He steps forward, close enough for me to catch the faint scent of his cologne. “Tell me, Iris… what’s in it for me?”
My lips part, but no words come out.
“Exactly.”
He chuckles, and starts to turn away.
“Wait,” I say, quickly.
He pauses, brow raised.
“I know you’re taking the art class to fix your GPA,” I say, watching the flicker in his expression. “Let me help you. I’ll tutor you for free.”
A slow grin spreads across his face. “You think you’re that smart?”
“I know I am.”
He studies me for a beat longer, then shrugs. “Deal. But don’t fall for me, sweetheart. I’m the dangerous one.”
He turns and walks off.
Damn it.