Chapter 76: The Scent of Possession
{IRIS}
I retreated another step, my back nearly brushing against the stone planter behind me. My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out the night’s whispers.
Jayson noticed. His lips curved upward again, softer this time.
"Hey." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Are you afraid of me, Iris? You don’t have to be."
He stepped closer—not threateningly, but casually, hands tucked into his pockets like he was strolling through campus at noon instead of prowling the gardens past curfew.
"I don’t really like wolves’ flesh and blood," he added lightly. "So don’t worry."
I blinked.
"...Wolves?" The word echoed stupidly in my mind.
He grinned, sharp and bright. "Aren’t you a werewolf?"
Before I could gather my thoughts—or my courage—he walked past me, brushing close enough that I caught his scent.
Perfume, Iron and something darker beneath it. Not unpleasant. Just... unsettling.
"Anyway," he said over his shoulder in that usual, lazy, almost sing-song tone, "we should head back. Curfew’s coming up."
He didn’t wait for an answer.
Jay moved ahead of me, almost hopping as he went, humming a tune under his breath. His long, lean back swayed with a carefree rhythm that felt entirely wrong for someone who had just admitted—so casually—to feeding.
I stood frozen for a heartbeat longer, then released a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
At least he didn’t want to eat me.
The thought came unbidden, followed swiftly by another, far more bitter one.
...Or should I be concerned—or depressed—that even he didn’t want to eat me?
A hollow laugh bubbled in my chest and died there. No one wanted me. Not as a prodigy. Not as a companion. Not even as prey.
I hurried after him, my boots crunching softly against the gravel.
And as I followed, my gaze drifted—traitorously—to his back. Tall. Slender. Relaxed. He looked utterly unbothered by the darkness that defined him, wearing it like a favorite coat rather than a curse.
Come to think of it...
What kind of creature of the night was Jay, really?
He wasn’t feral like the wolves, nor cold and distant like the vampires who stalked the upper towers. He laughed too easily, touched too freely, lived too brightly.
Yet the blood at his lips had been real.
The red in his eyes had not been a trick of the light.
As he hummed and skipped ahead, moonlight clinging to his silhouette, a chill crept down my spine.
For the first time since arriving at this academy, I realized something far more frightening than my own weakness.
I didn’t know the monsters here nearly as well as I thought.
And one of them had just offered to walk me home.
I halted mid-step when something fouled the air.
It struck my senses without warning—sharp, invasive, unmistakable. Garlic. Not the gentle hint used in cooking, but a concentrated stench, acrid and aggressive, as though someone had drowned themselves in it.
Beneath it lay something else: a whisper of movement, soft and irregular, the faintest disturbances that only ears like mine could catch.
My fingers curled at my side.
"What’s that?" I asked the empty corridor, my voice barely louder than breath.
Jay stopped beside me. He looked over, brow creasing in confusion before his head tilted slightly, instinctively angling as though to better catch the sound. His expression shifted the moment the scent reached him.
He inhaled once—and immediately recoiled.
His face contorted. "You’re right. I do hear something and..." He sniffed again, then sneezed violently, staggering back a step as though struck. "Ugh—what is that smell?!"
His voice dropped abruptly, the usual lightness draining away as something deeper and far more dangerous replaced it. "Is that... garlic?!"
The word came out like a curse.
"Damn it," he snarled, pinching his nose between two fingers. "Who in all the realms uses garlic powder as perfume? Are they mad?" His lip curled. "The stench is unbearable."
I winced, though I didn’t cover my nose. It was strong—painfully so for those of us with sharpened senses—but Jay’s reaction seemed excessive even by our standards.
Before I could comment, he was already backing away.
"I can’t—no, absolutely not. I can’t take this," he said sharply, voice muffled as he turned. "That smell is killing me."
And just like that, he fled down the corridor, footsteps quick and retreating.
So much for gallantry.
I let out a slow breath, irritation prickling beneath my skin. How chivalrous of him. How very manly.
Still, curiosity gnawed at me. Garlic didn’t simply appear in places like this—not without intent.
And beneath it lingered that other sound. That quiet, intimate noise I had caught earlier.
I followed the trail.
Each step drew the scent stronger, thicker, clinging to my throat. The sound sharpened as well—murmurs now, the faintest hitch of breath, the subtle rustle of fabric against stone.
My pulse quickened.
Then I heard it.
A voice.
Clear now. Female. Soft.
My stomach twisted.
"Caroline," I called out, the name leaving my lips before I had time to think.
I broke into a run.
The corridor opened abruptly into a chamber washed in low, amber light. I run towards the lake—and I stopped dead.
Lord Val stood a few meters away from me, tall and terrible in his stillness.
One arm curved possessively around Caroline’s waist, holding her close, impossibly close. His other hand cradled the back of her neck, fingers threaded through her hair with an intimacy that made my chest ache.
His fangs were buried at the side of her throat.
Not tearing. Not violent.
Claiming.
Caroline’s head was tilted back against his shoulder, her breath shallow, lips parted. Garlic clung to her skin in thick waves, masking what should have been the intoxicating scent of her blood—but even that could not hide the truth of what I was witnessing.
Lord Val lifted his head slowly.
A thin line of crimson traced his lips as he smirked.
"She’s mine," he declared.
The words landed like a blade.
Something inside me cracked.
No—shattered.
The warmth I hadn’t realized I was still holding onto splintered into nothing, leaving behind a hollow ache so sharp it nearly stole my breath.
And beneath that ache rose something darker, uglier.
Hatred.
