Page 30 of Of Shadow and Moon

I don’t need to turn to know who it is.

Tomas.

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, keeping my expression neutral. He’s leaning against the rack beside me, all effortless grace and sharp edged confidence. His silver curls glint under the lights, catching the sheen of sweat on his pale skin. He’s not wearing much, a sleeveless top and tight shorts that stop three inches above his knee, it leaves little to the imagination. His red eyes gleam with amusement, his lips curled in a smirk that promises trouble.

“Shouldn’t you be focusing on your own workout?” I say, my tone cool, though my pulse quickens at his proximity.

“And miss this?” He gestures vaguely to the room, but it’s clear he means me. “Why would I do that?”

I let out a loud sigh slip. Something I feel I will do a lot in his presence. Tomas is a distraction, one I don’t have the luxury of entertaining. But he doesn’t move, his presence a persistent hum at the edge of my awareness.

“You’re holding back,” he says, his voice low, almost teasing. “I can tell.”

I pause, my fingers tightening around thebarbell. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I roll my eyes. “Leave me the fuck alone, vamp.”

“Oh, you do.” He leans in slightly, his breath warm against my ear. “It’s written all over you, Princesa. You’re hiding something.”

The nickname grates against me. I straighten, meeting his gaze head on. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Maybe not.” He admits, his smirk widening. “But I know enough. And I’m curious.” Can he stop saying he’s curious when it comes to me? Gods, how do I get rid of him?

I’m about to retort when movement catches my eye.

Nazriel, watching us from across the room. His expression is colder now, his jaw tight, and for a brief moment, I think I see something flash in his eyes. Jealousy? Disgust? It’s gone too quickly to tell.

Tomas follows my gaze, and his smirk turns into something sharper. “Ah, I see,” he murmurs. “The Ice Prince doesn’t like to share.”

I glare at him, confused by his words, my patience wearing thin. “Go bother someone else, Tomas.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rich, before finally stepping back. “As you wish, Princesa.”

I turn away from him, focusing on the barbell in front of me. My muscles ache, my heart pounds, and my mind races, but I force it all down, channeling the tension into motion. One lift, one breath, one step at a time.

Chapter 17

Selestina

It’s been a couple of weeks since classes started, and somehow, I’ve settled into a strange but oddly comforting routine. Every morning begins the same way, a run along the edge of the academy grounds, the cool air biting at my skin and the quiet hum of the waking world surrounding me. And every morning, without fail, Matheus joins me.

He never says anything, and neither do I. He used to keep a few steps behind, there but not there, like a shadow following me. We now run side by side. There's something stabilizing about it, though I couldn't quite explain why.

We don’t have combat today. Matheus waits just outside of the training grounds while I grab my bag and walk to my dorm, where, like clockwork, he'll finally leave, jogging away toward his own dorm. This happens every time that we don’t have class. It gives me a weird sense of warmth but also dread. It feels protective without getting attached, and for whatever reason, that leaves me with a knot in my throat.

We haven't spoken a word to each other since thatmoment in the library, but every morning, he's there, like the rising of the sun. I keep telling myself it doesn't matter, but inside, I know it does.

I take a step into my dorm. The air's a lot warmer inside, and I'm greeted by a rather unusual sight, Nasarea awake.

She looks up from where she's perched on the edge of her bed, her long black curls tumbling over one shoulder. Her eyes narrow, and without a word, she rises, grabs her bag, and storms past me, slamming the door behind her with a force that rattles the walls.

I scoff, muttering under my breath, “Good morning to you, too.”

Shrugging off the encounter, I grab my clothes and head for the shower. Water scalding, just the way I like it, it chases the lingering chill from my run. The small space quickly fills with steam that curls around me like a warm cocoon. Quickly and methodically, I scrub, the routine a welcome distraction from the ever present hum of thoughts in my head.

Once I'm dressed, I pull on a pair of tights and lace up my boots. The leather wraps my calves, as familiar as it is steady, preparing me for whatever today may hit me with. I turn the last buckle as I swing the door open and stride right into a solid wall of muscle.

The impact jars me, and I stumble back a step, catching myself against the doorframe. “Oh shit. Sorry,” I mumble, looking up. My apology freezes on my tongue when I realize exactly who I've run into.

The fae prince, Rhyker.

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