Elora’s POV
His face slid from fury to a smirk and back to fury, and there he stood, filling the space in front of me—the Lycan Prince.
I couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t tell if it was the humiliation of standing in the men’s room or just the sheer weight of him leaning over me.
He was tall.
Jet-black hair framing a face carved from something colder than stone.
His eyes were nearly as dark as his hair, beautiful in the way a drop is beautiful—right before it kills you.
His lips pressed into a hard line, like he was holding back either an insult or a laugh.
“Lost, four-eyes?” Low.
Deep.
The nickname landing like a flick to the forehead.
I stared up at him, frozen, no words coming.
Humiliating.
“I—I think I made a mistake,” I stammered.
He scoffed.
“You think?
Or you know?
Because from where I’m standing it’s pretty obvious.”
That was it.
I was not going to stand here and argue.
I rolled my eyes and moved to leave—and his hand slammed the wall beside my head, caging me in.
He had no intention of moving.
“This is clearly the men’s room.” He tilted his head.
“Or did you just want an excuse to see me?
Are you one of my stalkers too?”
Stalkers?
My face went hot.
“No.
Of course not.
I didn’t realize—”
“Sure you didn’t.” He cut me off.
“What do you even need those glasses for, if your eyes are still that bad?”
My fists curled at my sides, the embarrassment burning off and something harder rising in its place.
The glasses were a wound.
He didn’t know that.
He didn’t know I didn’t wear them to see.
He’d just pressed his thumb straight into the one bruise I couldn’t afford to show.
“I said it was a mistake.
Now move.”
I went for the gap a second time.
He shoved me back, jaw ticking with anger.
“Four-eyes—”
“I have a name.”
“Then what is it?”
“Elora.” Loud.
Clear.
Mine.
“Four-eyes.” The smirk again—he refused to let my name touch his tongue.
“I’m sure you know who I am.
And where I’m from, no one raises their voice at me.”
“Funny.” I lifted my chin.
“Where I’m from, no one raises their voice at me either.”
A Lycan Prince’s threat was supposed to make me shrink.
It did scare me.
But I was done shrinking today.
Back home no one dared disrespect me, odd as they thought I was—not with my uncle standing behind me.
I’d given this prince one free pass when he knocked me to the ground.
That was the last one he’d get.
Varek blinked, caught off guard, like the idea of being talked back to genuinely hadn’t occurred to him.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I brushed past him—and this time he let me.
I walked out without looking back, and I didn’t let myself run.
Only in the corridor did I let the breath go, my whole body shaking with it.
The Lycan Prince.
Varek.
He’d tried to make me small again, and I hadn’t let him.
I’d won this round.
But I wasn’t fool enough to think it was a game he’d stop playing.
Better to just avoid him.
For real, this time.
I found the group again, and Hazel clocked my flushed face at once.
“You okay?”
“Fine.
Did I miss anything?”
She looped her arm through mine.
“Nope.
Just plotting how we get ready for the party.”
I frowned.
“The party’s hours away.”
“Exactly.
We need to look perfect.
Just in case.” Her eyes glittered.
“Mates, Elora.”
She wasn’t kidding.
The second we were back in the dorm, I found myself standing in front of her mirror while she held a dress against me—short, strapless, royal blue, hemline halfway up my thigh.
I pictured every scenario that ended with me bending over.
Shook my head.
“Yes,” Hazel said.
“Hazel.” I sang her name, warning.
“Elora,” she sang back, and I lost the fight to a laugh.
It was strange, how easy she already felt, like a friend I’d had for years instead of hours.
“You’ve got great boobs,” she declared.
“Show them off.
Because I’m showing mine.”
Ten minutes was all it took to learn there was no arguing with Hazel.
She pushed until she got her way.
She squealed and hugged me from behind, chin on my shoulder, dress still pinned to my body.
“You’ll look amazing.”
The front door opened.
We swapped a glance and went to check.
Pink hair.
Chloe.
I looked past her for Sabrina, but she shut the door on empty air behind her.
“Hey, guys.” She mumbled it and beelined for her room.
Hazel and I traded another look.
“Chloe,” Hazel called.
“We’re getting ready in my room.
Want to join?”
“No.” Chloe reappeared with an armload of dresses, shoes, a vanity case.
“Just grabbing my stuff.
I’m going with Sabrina and some of the sophomore girls.
But you two have fun!”
“Then I guess we’ll see you at the pa—” The door cut Hazel off.
Chloe was gone.
“Okay.” Hazel pulled a face, and we both cracked up.
“What the hell was that.”
“No idea.” I cackled.
She slung an arm over my shoulder and leaned into me.
“Thank the Goddess you’re my roommate.” She grinned—and I knew she meant compared to Chloe, who’d left a sour taste in my mouth from hello.
Another one for the stay-away list.
The next two hours vanished into hair and makeup.
When Hazel finished the last curl, she reached for my glasses.
“Okay.
These come off.
You can’t wear them with those heels.”
I jerked back.
“No.
Not the glasses.
You can’t.”
She looked genuinely baffled.
“Why not?
You’ve got beautiful eyes, Elora.
Stop hiding them.”
I sighed.
The I-can’t-wear-contacts line had run dry weeks ago.
I gave her a piece of the truth to buy the rest.
“They’re special to me.” I let my voice drop.
“My mom gave them to me before she died.
I promised her I’d always wear them.”
Hazel’s mouth opened, then closed on a small gasp.
“I’m so sorry.
I had no idea—”
“It’s okay.
Don’t worry about it.” I smiled at the mirror.
Not a full lie.
The glasses were special.
They were Mom’s.
That part was true.
The part I left out: years ago I used to wake up screaming.
Nightmares that weren’t nightmares.
Prophecies.
Voices in my sleep, people in my room who weren’t there.
Healers were expected to have gifts.
Mine were something else.
Something dark.
Only my parents, my uncle, and Garrett had ever known.
I’d sworn never to tell another soul.
Mom had spent her life terrified someone would find out and use me.
Even dead, she got her wish.
I didn’t shift much, either—shifting meant taking the glasses off.
That was half of why I loved healing.
It kept my feet on the ground.
It kept the glasses on my face.
“You know what, the glasses aren’t even that bad.” Hazel studied me in the mirror, eyes narrowing like she was trying to read my mind.
I hated that.
People looking at me like they could see more than I gave them.
“I saw the Lycan Prince in the restroom,” I blurted—the first distraction that came to hand.
“Walked into the boys’ room by accident.
Very smooth.”
Her eyes went wide.
“You saw Varek?
What’s he li—”
“Rude,” I said.
“He called me a stalker.
And four-eyes.”
Hazel looked down, fighting a grin.
“Not funny,” I added.
The nickname was lazy, corny, decades out of date.
He could’ve done so much better.
“You’re right.
Nothing to laugh at.” She pressed her lips together.
“Although—you should be flattered.”
“Why?”
“I heard he ignores everyone on purpose.
Doesn’t think they’re worth his time.
But he saw you.
Paid attention to you.
So maybe…”
“No.” I pulled a face like I’d tasted something rotten.
“I’d rather spit in the Moon Goddess’s face than get involved with him.”
“That’s basically spitting on your own mother.
It’s that serious?”
“It’s that serious,” I nodded.
“He’s a bully, a Lycan, and a prince.
I hate him.
And I doubt Sabrina would love watching me fight for her ex’s attention.”
“Probably not.” Hazel hummed.
“I heard they’ve got history.
Their dads wanted them together to strengthen the royal bloodline.
He broke it off before it got serious.
Attachment issues, they say.”
“Oh, he’s got issues, all right.” I thought of that cold, infuriatingly handsome face.
The one that had humiliated me.
Twice.
“Anyway.” She checked her phone.
“We should go.”
“We should.”
“Catch.” She lobbed a pack of gum at me.
I flinched, caught it, then instinctively cupped a hand to my mouth to check my own breath.
“Is something wrong with my breath?”
“Of course not, silly.” She grinned.
“It’s for later.
In case you find your mate.”
I laughed and shook my head.
“Not counting on any of that.”
The idea of finding a mate while trying to survive school sounded exhausting.
“You never know,” she said, winking.
“No.
I know.”
“No.
You don’t.”
We bantered all the way down the hall until Hazel ducked into a restroom.
With nothing to do, I drifted through the empty corridors—and the portraits caught me.
Rows of healing majors, year after year, faces frozen in old light.
I thought of Mom.
A respected alumna.
Would her picture be here?
I went hunting for her year, scanning frame after frame, and after a few minutes my heart jumped—I found it.
Row by row, I searched the sea of faces.
There.
I smiled the second I saw her.
There was a glow to Mom’s face I’d know anywhere.
And beside her, so close their shoulders touched, a girl in matching clothes—so close they had to be more than classmates.
I couldn’t place her.
I read the names beneath the photo.
My mother: Vivian.
The girl with her arms around her: Genevieve.
Genevieve.
The same name Helena had gasped at me in the hallway.
I leaned in, trying to see her face—but it was turned just enough to hide it.
If only—
“Done!” Hazel crashed into my side, arm thrown over my shoulder.
“What are we looking at?”
“Nothing.” I shook it off.
“Just old pictures.”
We started walking.
“Just imagine,” she beamed.
“Four years from now, that’s us on the wall.”
We left the building and cut into the woods.
Before long the trees carried the thump of music and the roll of laughter toward us.
“Everyone’s here,” Hazel breathed.
An open clearing spread out ahead, packed with bodies—talking, laughing, dancing—lit only by strings of tiny lights woven through the branches.
Red cups littered the grass.
The air was thick with something sweet and definitely against the rules.
My skin prickled.
We’d just arrived and I already wanted to leave.
So many people.
Drunk people.
Not my scene at all.
Hazel bumped me.
“Keep an open mind.
You never know what tonight brings.”
I scoffed.
“Wouldn’t get your hopes up if I were you.”