NULL.
I should've knocked.
Goddess, I should've freaking knocked!
My brain shut down. I didn't know if I was breathing, blinking, or hallucinating. I just stood there like a glitch in the hallway, staring straight into the apocalypse.
He had sandy-gold hair, soaked and tousled, sticking to his neck in soft waves. A towel hung over one shoulder like he couldn't be bothered to use it properly. The other was scrubbing through his hair while steam drifted off his skin.
He hadn't seen me. Yet.
But I saw everything.
His back was long, lean. Sculpted like someone who didn't train to be strong, like he just was. Every move looked accidental and efficient. His bare skin glowed golden in the light, marred only by a few pale scars across the shoulder blades.
Then he turned.
Not all the way. Just enough for my eyes to land on the deep V carved down his torso.
Don't look. Don't you dare look—
But I looked.
Of course I looked.
And there it was.
All of it.
Swinging like this was his den and the rest of us were prey who should be honored to witness it.
My lungs forgot their job. My mouth opened and closed, a dying fish in oversized boots and a hoodie two sizes too big.
There were no thoughts. Just heat, panic, and whatever happened when a girl pretending to be a boy walked into a steam-soaked room with a boy who didn't believe in towels.
Then he turned fully.
And his face hit me like a third slap.
Bright green eyes. Not the playful kind. The too-sharp kind that looked like they saw everything and filed it under "leverage." A crooked mouth that curled slightly like he knew the effect he had. Skin carved from sunlight and rich-boy soap.
Still no towel.
Still not grabbing one.
Still looking at me like I was the one who barged into his bathhouse and ruined the aesthetic.
"Are you lost?" he asked.
His voice. Goddess.
Low. Lazy. Slightly amused. Like he was already bored with whatever I might say.
I opened my mouth but nothing came out of it, only air.
Then finally—
"I'm room—I mean, Room 1. This is… my room."
His eyes dragged over me, slow, obvious, and absolutely not subtle.
From my badly cut hair to the scuffed boots, to the oversized hoodie hiding the compression band that was currently strangling the life out of me.
He stepped forward and my body locked.
He didn't even flinch about being naked. He didn't grab pants nor looked embarrassed. He was just… walking. Toward me.
With all of it still out.
What the hell is happening. What is this.
Did he figure it out? Does he know that I'm a girl? Was he about to—
My brain short-circuited. I couldn't even finish the thought.
But boys don't run from boys.
So I couldn't either. I wouldn't.
My knees were already weak. My core felt like electricity.
And then, her.
My wolf.
She was stirring. Again. For the third time today.
She wasn't speaking but I could feel her fully awake, pressed against the inside of my ribs like she was watching through my eyes, restless and almost curious.
Why was she reacting like this?
My fingers jumped to the sling on my neck, gripping it so hard it almost snapped. It was still warm.
That means it was still working, right?
He got so close I could smell him.
Crushed mint. Oak bark. Sharp citrus peel.
He smelled unfairly good. So that had to be it. That had to be why my wolf was reacting. Anyone would react at that.
Right?
Just when I thought he was going to collide with me, he simply passed by me instead.
No touch. Just his scent slamming into my chest like a damn wall before he reached behind me and shut the door.
He shut the damn door.
Now it was just us. Inside. With his shameless naked self. One door. No exits.
My body screamed to react but I was stuck, frozen and overheating.
I watched him walk across the room, easy and smooth, like the room belonged to him and of course, it did. His towel slipped off his shoulder and landed on the floor like he couldn't even be bothered.
He moved to the bottom bunk. Of course. Of course that was his bed.
He bent, slow and infuriatingly confident, to pick up a pair of black pants that had been folded on top.
The little tattoos along his ribs shifted as he moved. Silver hoops glittered from his ears. Multiple. One had a red feather. Another a tiny wolf fang.
He pulled the pants on, finally. Then yanked a dark V-neck shirt over his head, the neckline plunging low enough to still show a peek of the V I was trying to erase from my memory.
His chains jingled as he moved, silver and leather cords, beads and charms, all layered around his neck.
"I guess you're one of my roommates," he muttered, like it didn't matter.
He didn't look at me when he said it. He just pulled his sleeves up his arms like he had somewhere better to be.
"I'm Jace."
I blinked. "Uh?"
He turned, amused again.
"You look like you'll die in the first sparring round," he said. "Good luck."
The words stung more than they should have.
I did look weak. Lanky and slim. My posture too hunched. Compared to everyone else, I looked like a mistake.
I hated that he saw it. I hated that he said it.
I dropped my bag beside the single bed. The one in the far corner. Not the bunk. I'd have taken the bottom if I could hide under a top. But this one was isolated. Safer and quieter.
I sat. My hands were shaking so hard I couldn't even unzip the bag without fumbling.
Jace turned to leave. His chains clinked. His sleeves pushed halfway up. His body still humming with that casual, predatory confidence that made it feel like he'd clocked me within seconds.
"You didn't tell me yours," he said, halfway to the door.
I blanked. Again. "Uh?"
He looked over his shoulder, that infuriating smirk in his voice. "Your name?"
"Oh. Uh… Null."
He nodded like he was filing that away. Another label for his mental cabinet.
"Okay, Null. Hope you don't snore."
"I don't," I said too fast.
He stared. Just a second too long.
Then he left.
Like he didn't care who I was.
Or worse, like he already knew.