Chapter 63: His Fangs

Olivia's POV

I reached out from the side and hugged him, pressing myself against Ethan's embrace. My arms locked tight around his waist, face buried in his chest, and I shouted with everything I had, "Ethan!"

My voice was shaking too. I'd never seen Ethan like this before.

But I didn't loosen my hold. Even if he'd lost himself, I knew, deep down, he wouldn't hurt me. He would come back.

After a long while, he finally calmed down and looked down at me. My hands were gripping the clothes on his back, already torn, my fingers pressing directly against the edge of scales on his shoulder blades that hadn't fully receded yet.

The scales burned, hot enough to redden my skin. But I didn't pull my hands away.

My hair brushed against his jaw, my chin pressed against his collarbone. I used every ounce of strength I had, trying to anchor him there, pull him back to human form.

The red light outside still pulsed, but the storm inside him began to recede.

The scales withdrew into his skin one by one. His joints snapped back into place. The ache at his tailbone subsided, leaving behind a hollow ache. The shadows retreated from the floor like a receding tide. The last trace of darkness slid past my feet and shrank back into the soles of his feet.

I didn't notice when those wolves had fled.

I crouched on the floor, gathering the scattered coins, my fingertips trembling.

One coin, into the box. Another, and another. After repeating this countless times, feeling slowly returned to my fingertips.

When I'd hugged him, the scales on his back had been frighteningly hot.

Behind me, Ethan sorted the bookshelf. He didn't say anything, and neither did I. The only sounds were the gentle clinking of coins, the rustling of pages being put back, and the crimson light outside slowly fading.

But the image in my mind wouldn't stay down, what I'd seen when I burst through the door. I'd probably never forget.

Ethan had stood in the middle of the room. The clothes on his back hung in tatters from the shoulder blades down. The scales weren't just a few scattered pieces. They were large patches emerging from beneath his skin, covering his entire spine.

The Scarlet Moon's light struck them, reflecting a cold, hard dark blue. The edges of the scales were rough-hewn, sharp as broken glass.

His right hand was no longer a hand. Every joint had elongated, twisted. His nails had turned to bone-white claws, with blood glistening at the tips.

Three wolves lay sprawled on the ground. One lay pinned under his foot, ankle twisted, curled into a tiny ball, not even daring to cry out.

His shadow wasn't the usual faint gray-black spread on the floor. It was churning like a living thing, spreading outward from his feet, thick as ink.

The shadow coiled around one wolf's waist, climbing upward, pinning everything it touched immobile.

Then he noticed me. His eyes weren't silver-gray anymore. They'd turned molten gold. His pupils had contracted to vertical slits, light burning inside them. I couldn't describe that look. It was like he recognized me, but also like he was trying to identify something very far away.

At that moment, I thought I'd be terrified. But my legs moved faster than my brain. When I rushed forward, I didn't have time to think. Even if he'd changed, even if his dragon had surfaced, he was still the Ethan who'd protected me, comforted me, given me strength.

Now, crouching here gathering coins, my mind replayed everything frame by frame. He'd told me before that during the Scarlet Moon, dragon essence becomes restless and hard to suppress. But he'd said it so calmly, like he was talking about something that didn't have much to do with him.

I'd remembered, but hadn't thought much of it. I'd thought "hard to suppress" meant maybe a bit more temperamental, speaking harshly, not sleeping well at night. No. It hadn't been like that at all.

I didn't dare imagine. If I hadn't chased after him, if I had hesitated one more second at the door, if I hadn't rushed forward, would he have let go?

Those wolves, at least one, would probably be dead by now.

I set down the coin and looked up at him. I wanted to ask if he was okay, but forced the words back.

"If I hadn't chased after you," I asked him, "would you have let go?"

Ethan paused. "You did chase after me. So I let go."

This non-answer. He didn't say yes, didn't say no. He just stated what happened. Because I came, he let go.

But what if I hadn't come? I didn't dare push this question further.

But there wasn't a trace of regret on his face. That's what made my heart run cold.

He'd beaten those three into submission, was pinning one by the ankle, claws hovering above a throat.

He stood in the middle of that mess, his face showing neither anger nor loss of control, but a cold indifference that said he had everything under control.

It felt like he wasn't about to take a life, just clearing out a few creatures that had wandered into his lair.

He really didn't think there was anything wrong with it. At least for those few minutes.

Now he'd shifted back. The scales had retracted, his eyes silver-gray again. He sat quietly across from me, sorting the bookshelf, his movements gentle, as if afraid to wake something.

But he knew what I'd just seen.

Of course he knew. When he'd turned to look at me, those molten gold pupils had reflected my face, my expression, probably also reflected the fear in my eyes. But he didn't say anything, and neither did I.

The red light outside had faded completely. The Scarlet Moon had probably moved behind the tower. Only the wall lamp's small flame flickered.

I stood up and dusted off my knees, walked over and helped him right the tilted desk.

One leg had come loose from the impact. I held the desktop while he crouched to tighten the joint. Together we stabilized the table.

I was about to say we'd done a good job cleaning up when there was a gentle tap at the window, like a bird's beak pecking at glass.

I looked closer. An owl glowing with pale golden light perched on the windowsill, a letter in its beak. The envelope bore the academy's wax seal. Its body was semi-transparent, the feathers at its wing edges constantly dissolving into points of light, then re-forming.

This was no ordinary messenger. It belonged to Headmaster Cedric.

Ethan stood up and opened the window. The owl placed the letter on the windowsill, tilted its head, looked at him with one eye, then looked at me. Then its entire body turned to light mist and dispersed.

The wax seal was dark blue, bearing Headmaster Cedric's crest. Both our names were on the envelope.

Being summoned in the middle of the night, this wouldn't be a small matter.

Ethan opened the envelope, pulled out the letter, and scanned it quickly, then handed it to me.

"The headmaster wants us in his office. Now."