Chapter 5
Aurora
"Sounds…intense." I said, pocketing the small metal key that had come in my welcome packet.
"Everything here is," Riven murmured without looking up from her book.
I stepped into the hallway, breathing a little easier now that I was alone. For the first time since I arrived, I felt like I could actually take a moment and think.
Werewolves.
Lycans.
Prince freaking Zayn.
I shook my head, muttering under my breath. "This can't be real."
I walked toward the bathroom Mira had mentioned. The hallway was narrower here, lined with old portraits whose eyes seemed a little too aware for comfort. I kept my gaze down, feeling the cool stone under my feet even through my socks. I reached for the doorknob to the shower room, only to realize I had passed it. There was a second door farther down—half open.
And that's when I turned and collided with a wall of heat and muscle.
„Ow––„ I stumbled back a step, my toiletry bag nearly slipping from my fingers. "Sorry, I didn't—"
The words caught in my throat.
It was him.
Zayn.
The lycan prince.
Of course it was.
His shirt was damp and clinging to his chest—like he'd just come in from training or a run. His hair, too, was slightly tousled and darker at the ends, and his eyes…those storm-gray eyes pinned me to the spot.
I stared up at him, heart racing. He stared back, mouth tight, jaw tense.
We stood there in silence—longer than comfortable.
„You again,“ he said flatly.
„Me again,“ I muttered, trying to sound less breathless than I was.
He didn't move. Didn't even blink.
"Why are you on this floor?" he asked, voice quiet but sharp.
I blinked. "Because it's my dorm?"
"No." His eyes narrowed. "This wing is off-limits."
I looked behind me at the half-open bathroom door. "I'm not trying to break rules. One of my roommates said this was where the showers were"
His eyes flicked to the toiletry bag in my hand. Then back to my face.
His nostrils flared slightly—like he was smelling me again.
I took a step back instinctively. "Look, I'm just trying to take a shower and survive my first day without getting eaten."
His gaze sharpened. "Funny."
"Wasn't trying to be," I muttered.
Another moment of silence.
Then, finally, his shoulders dropped a fraction.
"You're not like the others," he said. Not a question. More like a statement he was testing out loud.
I swallowed. "Yeah, I've been getting that vibe."
He leaned forward a little, just enough that I caught the faintest trace of something—cedarwood, smoke, and rain. A scent that wasn't cologne but still something stuck in the air.
"You don't belong here," he said softly.
I felt that like a punch to the chest.
But I lifted my chin. "Maybe not. But I'm here anyway."
Zayn's eyes locked with mine, something flickering behind them—frustration, maybe. Or curiosity. Or both.
"Just…stay out of trouble," he said finally, voice gruff.
"Define trouble." He gave a short, humorless breath—half laugh, half warning.
Then, without another word, he brushed past me, the heat of him lingering in the narrow hall like a spark that hadn't quite gone out.
I stood there long after he was gone.
Because for a moment, in his voice—in his stare—I hadn't felt invisible.
I had felt seen.
And I wasn't sure if that was better…or worse.
The shower was old but blessedly hot. I stood under the stream, letting it beat against the back of my neck, hoping it would wash away the entire day—the stares, the whispers, the crash into Zayn, and the way his words echoed like thunder in my mind.
You don't belong here
I knew that already.
But hearing it from him—him, the Lycan Prince with the storm-gray eyes and the world balanced on his shoulders—it stung more than I wanted to admit.
I leaned my forehead against the cool tile, eyes closed.
What was I even doing here?
My parents had said this move was for a 'fresh start,' but they clearly had no idea what kind of school they were sending me to. Or maybe they did and didn't believe it. Maybe they'd laughed off the whole 'species declaration' thing on the forms. I mean, who even asks that? Werewolves weren't real. Magic wasn't real.
Except…it was.
And I was standing in the middle of it, trying not to drown.
After a while, the water began to cool, and my fingers pruned. I turned the handle off and stepped out, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel I brought with me. The warmth clung to my skin, but it couldn't chase away the ache growing in my chest.
Back in my clothes—just a hoodie and leggings—I rubbed my hair with the towel and made my way toward the hallway, hoping I could make it to bed without any more surprises.
But of course, I couldn't be that lucky.
Because standing right outside the bathroom door, arms crossed, leaning against the wall like she was waiting for someone, was a girl with icy silver-blonde hair and a look that could cut glass.
I stopped short.
She didn't move.
Didn't smile.
Didn't blink.
Charlotte.
I didn't need anyone to tell me. I just knew.
She was too perfect—sleek and tall and effortlessly terrifying. Her clothes were designer, her aura was sharp, and those piercing violet-gray eyes locked onto me like I was a stain on her floor.
"You're Aurora," she said, her voice smooth and cool as silk.
I nodded slowly. "Uh… yeah. That's me."
"I'm Charlotte," she smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Zayn's mate." I didn't know what to say to that.
Was I supposed to congratulate her?
Run?
Charlotte pushed off the wall and took a single step forward. Not threatening. Not quite. But there was something in her posture—something that made my instincts scream, 'Don't turn your back.'
"I saw you talking to him," she said calmly. "In the hall."
"I bumped into him." I corrected, swallowing the knot in my throat. "Literally. It wasn't a conversation."
She tilted her head. "Mhm. I'm sure."
My hands curled around the edges of my towel, still damp in my arms.
Charlotte took another step closer.