Lyrana was late. The bell for the afternoon History of Magic class had rung five minutes prior, and the low murmur of the professor's lecture had already begun. She stood outside the door, clutching her books precariously against her chest.
Her left arm was throbbing with a deep, sickening ache. After Kael had violently pushed her away in the gymnasium yesterday, she hadn't realized the severity of the landing until she tried to lift her books this morning.
A visit to the non-magical district's clinic confirmed her fear: a hairline fracture near the wrist. She had wrapped it tightly in a stiff, homemade brace, knowing she couldn't afford the luxury of professional healing.
Taking a deep breath, Lyrana slid the classroom door open and stepped inside, hoping to slip unnoticed into the back row.
The movement immediately drew attention. The professor, an ancient, hawk-like Vampire named Dr. Silas, stopped mid-sentence, his silver eyes fixed on her.
"Miss Aquamarine, you are late," Dr. Silas stated, his voice a dry, echoing censure. "And what, precisely, is that appalling mess on your left arm?"
Lyrana felt the familiar heat of shame creep up her neck. Every student in the room, including Kael, seated in the far corner with his pack, was staring.
She clutched her books tighter with her good arm, which sent a fresh wave of blinding pain up the fractured limb. "I apologize, Professor. I... I had an accident."
"An accident?" Dr. Silas sneered, his gaze sweeping over her disheveled state. "In this institution? Our halls are not built for clumsiness, Miss Aquamarine. Let me see that."
Lyrana reluctantly extended her arm. Dr. Silas, without an ounce of gentleness, prodded the thick, improvised wrap. Lyrana gasped, biting back a cry, and instinctively flinched away.
"A fracture," the professor observed dryly. "How remarkable. Did you fall into a particularly strong puddle, Nymph? Tell us what happened, child."
Lyrana knew she couldn't tell the truth. To admit that the Alpha heir had injured her in a fit of rage would be suicide. It would be a challenge to his power, and Kael would destroy her.
She lowered her gaze, unable to meet the Professor's eyes. "I... I do not recall, Professor. It happened quickly."
A few students tittered at the obvious lie. Lyrana stood mute, her silence confirming her utter powerlessness.
Across the room, Kael's massive frame was absolutely still. He was watching Lyrana, his golden eyes narrowed. He hadn't needed her confession; the moment he saw her staggering form and the crude splint, a raw, nauseating wave of guilt had washed over him.
It was his fault.
He had been so consumed by his own forbidden reaction, the near kiss and the panicked rejection, that he hadn't considered the consequences of shoving her away with
Alpha force. He had broken her. And she was standing there, silent, covering for him.
The sight of her pain, combined with the professor's cruel, public humiliation, sparked a protective fury in Kael that was becoming harder to repress.
He pushed his chair back with a loud, scraping sound that drew all attention away from Lyrana and toward the Alpha.
"She said she had an accident, Professor," Kael stated, his voice heavy with unchallenged authority. "Dismiss the matter. It's distracting."
Dr. Silas bristled, unused to being so openly challenged, but he backed down immediately, acknowledging the superior hierarchy. "Very well, Alpha. Sit down, Miss Aquamarine."
Kael didn't sit down.
He pushed away from his desk and started walking, his steps slow and deliberate, heading straight for Lyrana.
The entire class held its breath. Rhys watched, his gaze suspicious and intent.
Kael stopped right beside her. He reached out and, with surprising delicacy, took the textbooks from her uninjured hand, holding them effortlessly against his powerful chest.
"You won't be writing or carrying anything today," Kael informed her, his voice low and gruff. "You're a liability, Lyrana. You'll stick with me today. You're excused from your remaining classes to ensure that arm gets no further damage."
Lyrana looked up at him, bewildered. "I can't miss class, Kael. And I don't need…"
"You need to follow orders," he cut in sharply, his voice carrying the snarl she was used to, masking the sudden concern.
"I said you're excused. And," he leaned down, his breath warm against her ear, "if you're going to try to cover for me, you will at least ensure that the injury doesn't get worse, forcing me to deal with your pathetic medical needs."
He straightened up, his eyes sweeping over the silent class.
"She's with me," he announced, asserting his claim of ownership. "She is no longer available for observation or conversation. She is being escorted."
He placed a proprietary, gentle hand on the small of her back, just below the fracture, guiding her toward the exit. It was a gesture of protection so possessive it felt like a warning to the entire room.
As he steered Lyrana through the door, his lips curled into a trademark sneer aimed at her ear.
"If you fall, Nymph, I swear I'll let you break the other arm," he muttered, maintaining the illusion of threat. "You make a terrible casualty. It's annoying."
But Lyrana knew the truth now. The snarl was a lie; the hand on her back was real. The Alpha, the cold, ruthless Kael, was carrying her books and taking responsibility for her broken body, consumed by a guilt he couldn't hide.