The library smelled of old paper and stale coffee, but all I could sense was Aiden—his smoky scent curling around me like a dare. I sat across from him, my mythology notes open, my heart hammering as I tried to act normal. Last night’s glimpse of his dragon form—wings blazing, fire in his hands—had seared itself into my mind, fueling dreams that left me flushed and restless. My wolf, usually dormant, clawed at my insides, drawn to him in a way that felt both right and catastrophic. He was a dragon prince, and I was an unshifted werewolf, a reject with secrets too dangerous to share. Even though the air between us was brimming with unspoken truths, here we were, acting as though Zeus and Titans were important.

Aiden leaned back, his hoodie stretched tight over his shoulders, his green eyes flicking to me between lazy glances at the textbook. “So, Prometheus gets screwed for helping humans,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing. “You think he regretted it?”

I swallowed, my throat dry. His gaze felt like a touch, and my wolf stirred, urging me closer. “Maybe,” I said, adjusting my glasses to hide my nerves. “But he chose his fate. Sometimes you defy the rules because you have to.” My words hung heavy, laced with the weight of my own defiance—running from Lucius, hiding my nature, sitting here with a dragon who made my blood sing.

He smirked, leaning forward, his elbow brushing mine. The contact sent a jolt through me, heat pooling in my chest. “You sound like you know about breaking rules, Voss.” His tone was playful, but his eyes searched mine, like he was peeling back my layers. Did he know I’d seen him shift? Did he feel this pull too?

I pulled back, focusing on my notes. “Let’s stick to the myths. Prometheus’s punishment—eternal torment. Sound familiar?” I meant it as a jab, but my voice wavered, betraying the ache his nearness sparked. My wolf growled, low and hungry, and I gripped my pen to keep my nails from sharpening.

Aiden’s smirk faded, his expression darkening. “Torment’s not always chains,” he muttered, almost to himself. Before I could press, my phone buzzed, the vibration jarring. I glanced at it, expecting Lucius’s threats, but it was an unknown number.

“You okay?” Aiden’s voice cut through my panic, his hand grazing mine as he reached for my phone. I yanked it back, my skin tingling where he’d touched me. His eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering. “Who’s got you so spooked?”

“Nobody,” I lied, shoving the phone into my pocket. My wolf was restless, my vision sharpening, and I felt the library closing in. Aiden’s scent was overwhelming, fire and power, and my body leaned toward him despite my fear. I stood abruptly, knocking over my water bottle. It spilled across the table, soaking his notes, and I cursed under my breath.

“Chill, it’s just water,” Aiden said, grabbing the papers. He stood, too close, his chest inches from mine. My breath hitched as he reached past me, his arm brushing my shoulder, his scent drowning me. For a moment, our eyes locked, and I swore his pupils flared, ember-bright, like last night. My wolf howled, urging me to close the distance, to taste the fire I knew he hid. But then he stepped back, clearing his throat, and the spell broke.

“Let’s finish this tomorrow,” I mumbled, grabbing my bag. I needed air, needed to escape him and the text and the chaos inside me. But as I turned, a shadow moved outside the library window—tall, silver-haired, unmistakable. Lucius. My heart stopped, and then my vision burned, my eyes glowing amber against my will. Aiden froze, staring at me, his own eyes flashing with recognition.

“Elara,” he said, his voice a growl, “what the hell are you?”