Page 57 of The Bound Blood
And stars help me, I would if we had more time.
But even now, I hear the shift of footsteps down the corridor. A cough. A door. Something that reminds me the world is still turning. And that we’re not as alone as I want us to be.
Nolan pulls back slowly, panting, eyes glazed and lips kiss-swollen. His glasses are slightly askew and his tie is crooked, and I’ve never seen anything more adorable or more devastatinglyhotin my entire life.
I reach up and straighten his glasses with shaky fingers.
“Definitely real,” I whisper.
He grins, dazed. “Definitely.”
I’m still catching my breath, still trying to wrap my head around what just happened—whatwejust let happen—when a slow, sarcastic clap breaks the moment like a blade through water.
“Touching,” Auron drawls, voice echoing off the stone walls as he steps into view like he’s been waiting for the perfect moment to ruin everything. “Isthatthe reward we get for saving your life, princess? Because I gotta say, I expected at least a thank-you card.”
I groan, head thumping lightly back against the wall. “You didn’t save my life, you insufferable brat. You haven’t helped me at all. As I recall, you ran at the dance.”
Auron tsks and folds his arms, the silver rings on his fingers catching the light. “You sure about that?”
I narrow my eyes.
He flicks a lazy glance at Nolan, clearly enjoying himself. “You want to tell her, or should I?”
Nolan stiffens at my side. “Auron…”
Auron just raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
Nolan sighs, pushes up his glasses, and mutters, “It was his idea to organize the student protest. To rally them. He figured if the Council had to publicly answer for binding you, they’d back off.”
I blink.
Once.
Twice.
And then slowly turn to stare at Auron, who’s clearly reveling in my speechlessness.
“You?” I say finally. “You started that protest?”
Auron shrugs. “Technically, I just lit the match under your nerdy little sidekicks. The student body already hated the Council. I gave them something new to burn.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t like owing him anything, but I also can’t ignore the truth. Hedidhelp. In his own manipulative, opportunistic, completely Auron way.
And now that I’m looking at him—really looking—I see something I didn’t before.
Not softness or kindness. But maybe…motive.
Maybe he’s not the villain I painted him to be. Just a weapon forged by someone else’s hand.
My brain flashes back to the books I used to hide under my blankets and read with a flashlight until dawn. The platinum hair. The sneer. The bruises left by expectation and bloodline and fear.
Draco Malfoy had never really been evil—not in the end. Just…cornered.
And maybe Auron is the same. Not some heartless villain. Just a product of power games and legacy curses and a father who probably thinks love is a weakness.
Maybe not. But the realization shifts something in me anyway.
“You’re still an ass,” I mutter.
