They didn't plan it.
That was the strange thing about it later—how natural it felt,like the decision had been waiting for them.
They stood near the greenhouse longer than either intended,the morning light shifting slowly through the glass panes, warming the air between them.
Lyra broke the silence first.
"You don't look like someone who's used to explaining himself," she said.
Kael let out a short, humorless breath. "I'm not."
"But you're trying," she replied.
He looked at her then—really looked. "Because it's you."
The words landed softly, without drama, and somehow that made them heavier.
Lyra's fingers curled against her sleeve. "I don't want to go back yet."
Kael hesitated. "You shouldn't stay here either."
She raised a brow. "So what are you suggesting?"
For a moment, Kael said nothing. Then—quietly—
"There's a way off campus. Old maintenance paths. No cameras. No students."
Lyra studied his face. "You sound very sure."
"I am."
That should have scared her.
Instead, it steadied something in her chest.
"Okay," she said. "Take me."
They moved separately at first.
Lyra followed the path Kael had indicated earlier—past the arts wing, down the narrow stone steps near the botanical annex. Her heart beat faster with every turn, not from fear, but anticipation.
Kael joined her near the iron gate, emerging from shadow like he belonged there.
"From here on," he murmured, "stay close."
She did.
The campus faded behind them, replaced by trees and low lamplight, the sounds of students dissolving into distant echoes. Kael guided her through narrow trails that felt forgotten by time, his presence steady at her side.
Once, when she stumbled on loose gravel, his hand caught her wrist instinctively.
They both froze.
Heat flared where he touched her.
"I'm okay," Lyra said softly.
Kael released her immediately, jaw tight. "Tell me if you're not."
She nodded.
The restraint in that simple moment did more to calm her than any reassurance could have.
They ended up near the old river bend just beyond campus limits, where the water moved slow and dark and the world felt… quieter.
Real.
Lyra sat on a low stone wall, exhaling. "I didn't realize how loud the campus was until now."
Kael stood a few feet away, arms crossed—not defensive, just controlled. "It's designed to be watched."
She glanced at him. "And you?"
"I've spent most of my life making sure I wasn't."
She smiled faintly. "Funny. I came here to disappear too."
Their eyes met.
Something eased.
Lyra pulled her notebook from her bag—not to write, just to hold it. "When you write to me," she said, "you're different."
Kael's voice was quiet. "Because letters don't look back."
"And now?"
"Now I have to choose every word."
She liked that.
They talked—not about vampires, not about danger. About books. About the way Lyra's aunt burned rice and still insisted it was intentional. About how Kael remembered entire centuries in fragments but forgot ordinary things.
It felt… normal.
Which made the tension sharper.
When they stood to leave, the space between them felt charged—too quiet, too aware.
Lyra hesitated. "Kael?"
"Yes?"
"If you hadn't stopped yourself earlier… what would have happened?"
His throat worked. "I don't know. And that's why I did."
She nodded slowly. "Thank you."
Not for restraint.
For honesty.
As they retraced their steps back toward campus, Kael slowed suddenly, senses flaring.
"Someone's nearby," he murmured.
Lyra's pulse jumped. "A student?"
"No," he said softly. "But not a threat. Not tonight."
He guided her into the shadow of a tree until the presence passed—unseen, unfelt by anyone else.
For a brief moment, Lyra was pressed close enough to feel his stillness, his control coiled tight beneath calm skin.
She breathed.
So did he.
And nothing happened.
That was the point.
Back on Campus
They parted without touching.
Without promises.
Just understanding.
"Thank you for trusting me," Kael said quietly.
Lyra met his eyes. "Don't make me regret it."
He almost smiled.
From her dorm window later that night, Lyra watched the campus lights flicker and fade.
For the first time since arriving, she didn't feel invisible.
She felt chosen.
And somewhere in the dark, Kael Draven stood very still, realizing that sneaking her out had been the easy part.
Letting her matter?
That was where the danger truly began.