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“You’re my third—no, fourth.”
“You can stare. All humans do.” His lips curl up into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Your bodies naturally react to our strangeness. You’ll get used to it.”
Heat flares across my frozen cheeks, but I accept his invitation . . . even if I feel like a total creeper.
I move my focus to his hair. It’s cropped shorter on the sides and a little longer on top, showcasing wavy, tousled locks. They’re a shade darker than his eyelashes, a startling midnight blue. I once saw a show about ice caves in Iceland and his hair is the exact color of the darkest part of the ice.
I shiver before remembering that I’ve just been standing here ogling him like a statue. But he’s not a statue, because statues don’t usually have lips that twitch at the corners or eyes that pierce your soul.
Is he about to smile or about to frown? I feel like that’s important to my survival.
He crosses to the railing and peers at something in the distance. I watch him, stunned by how smooth and graceful his movements are. Every muscle, every tendon working in concert to make something as simple as walking seem like a dance.
Maybe it is. Maybe this is how the Fae mesmerize you into their power, like some magical, sexy voodoo. Maybe I should leave and go back to my pathetic little room.
But I don’t want to.
“What are you doing out here?” he drawls, turning to face me. His gaze goes to the army of goosebumps amassed over my skin. His voice is syrupy and slow, but there’s a demand there.
I tug my sleeves down to cover my mark. “I needed air.”
“It’s below freezing,” he points out.
“I’m aware. But fresh air is better than the broom closet they put me in, even if it’s cold as balls.”
His expression shifts, moving in the same fluid way his body does, but I can’t quite read it.
Amusement? Puzzlement? Annoyance? A lovely mix of all three?
“What are you doing on the roof?” I ask like the nosy girl I am.
He half turns to regard me. “It’s quiet here.” He seems to think about his answer for a moment before adding, “No one knows about this place.”
Except me, I almost, but don’t, say. “Are you hiding from someone?”
He blinks, his features hard and cold. This guy really knows how to play it cool. “Perhaps I just like the stars.”
The gravel crunches softly beneath my feet as I shift from boot to boot. “There are no stars, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Pity,” he says without glancing up.
Why am I so close to him? I’ve been inching across the roof toward the very thing I despise, caught in some weird magical Fae orbit.
What is wrong with me? I despise the cold almost as much as I despise the Fae. Yet here I am, in the cold, creeping closer to a Fae like some lunatic.
Am I smiling? Yeah—I’m totally grinning. This Fae must have some powerful magic, something that makes me feel comfortable with him. Is that even a thing? It must be.
I clamp my cold fingers into fists, wincing at the pain. I really should go inside. Instead I say, “Are you a student here?”
He nods, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“I’m a shadow,” I add.
“I’m aware.”
My heart flutters at his voice, and it takes a second to understand he’s turning my words back on me. It also takes a moment to notice that he’s staring at me differently now. And there’s a stillness to him that makes me uneasy. An intensity to his focus that wasn’t there before.
I feel something snap between us. A sharp prickle of electricity. He must feel it too because his eyes widen. Only slightly, but enough to know.
