Chp 38
2022 Words
Demyan Pov
It was like standing in a room full of flowers and only smelling cold stone. Too clean. Too intentional.
He was hiding something.
I stared at him for a long time. At the way his lashes brushed his cheek, the way his chest rose and fell, slow and steady. There was no tension in his body now—none of the usual effort he put into acting tough.
Just softness. Warmth. Realness.
I turned away and exhaled quietly. I had to stop. I was crossing a line now—one I couldn’t uncross.
Get it together, Demyan.
---
Morning
The soft creak of the door woke me. I cracked one eye open and saw Perin crouch to pick something up. His shoulders tensed. His eyes darted toward me and then quickly away. Guilt?
He shoved something behind his back—a paper?
I kept still, watching him.
He turned around, startled to see me awake. I sat up slowly.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
His expression flickered.
“Yeah,” he said with a tight smile. “Just… a reminder to study harder.”
Liar.
I could smell it—not on him, but around him. The faint tinge of something… off. The way his body stiffened, the way his fingers clenched the paper too tightly.
I stood and walked slowly to the door after he turned away. The air near it still held the faint scent of another wolf.
Not mine. Not Killian’s. Not Rowan’s.
Someone else had been standing there and they’d left him something. My jaw clenched.
Who was watching Perin?, And more importantly, What did they know that I didn’t?
I waited until after breakfast. I needed to collect myself. Watching Perin all morning was like trying not to touch fire when your skin already burns.
He was acting normal—too normal. Avoiding eye contact, fiddling with his book, laughing a little too loud when Rowan made a joke. And that paper… he hadn’t looked at it again. Hadn’t even touched his satchel.
But I hadn’t missed the flicker of fear in his eyes when I caught him hiding it.
When we were finally alone, I didn’t wait.
I stepped in front of him near the edge of the training yard, where the others wouldn’t overhear. He froze mid-step, surprised.
“You gonna tell me what that was about?” I said, low and direct.
He blinked. “What?”
“That paper you shoved into your bag like it was poison.”
His jaw tensed. “It was nothing.”
“‘Nothing’ doesn’t make your hands shake, Perin.”
He looked away. I stepped in closer.
“You’re not just here to study, are you?” I asked.
His eyes snapped up to mine, wide with panic. He opened his mouth, then shut it. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
“I—I told you, I’m just here to learn, same as you.”
“Bullshit.”
The word left me before I could stop it. My voice was harder now, sharper than I intended. But I was tired of the secrets. Tired of the way he made me feel off balance, like I was chasing a shadow with no shape.
“You’re hiding something,” I said. “And it’s not just that paper. You’ve been dodging questions since the day we met. You get flustered too easily. You move like you’re scared someone’s watching you.”
His lips parted slightly. But then, instead of fear—I saw resolve harden in his eyes.
“I can take care of myself,” he said, quieter now. “Whatever I’m dealing with… it’s not your problem.”
I laughed dryly, stepping closer, close enough that I could see the faint flush blooming on his cheeks.
“See, that’s the problem. You keep pretending you’re alone in this. You think no one cares enough to help?”
“I don’t need help—”
“Then why were you trembling last night?” I cut in, voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you look like you were about to pass out when I touched your shoulder?”
He took a shaky breath, his eyes darting to the ground.
Something in my chest clenched. I softened slightly.
“…Perin,” I said, quieter now. “I’m not trying to force you. But if something’s putting you in danger, I need to know.”
He didn’t answer.
The silence stretched long between us, filled only by the wind and the sound of distant voices.
Then finally—he turned his back to me.
“I can’t tell you. Not yet,” he whispered.
Not yet?
That was more than a no.
And somehow, it made my heart beat faster.
I didn’t mean to push too far.
But watching him struggle, watching the tension in him shoulders, the fear in his eyes whenever that damned wolf Lucien got too close… I couldn’t stay silent. I couldn’t stop myself from pressing again.
“You need to tell me what’s going on,” I said, my tone firm. “If someone’s threatening you—”
That’s when Perin spun around, eyes blazing. “Why do you keep doing this?!”
I froze.
“From the first day we met, you’ve been interrogating me like I’m some criminal! Always watching, always pulling me aside like you’re waiting for me to confess something.”
I opened my mouth, but he didn’t let me speak.
“Just stop, Demyan! You’re suffocating me. You act like I can’t breathe without your permission! I didn’t ask for your help—I don’t need you shadowing me everywhere.”
I felt the burn rise in my chest. I had only ever meant to protect him, to understand why I was drawn to his scent, his presence… but instead, I became the enemy.
“I can handle things in my own way,” he continued, voice sharp and final. “So stay away from me. Stop interfering in my life.”
Something cracked in me. Maybe pride. Maybe something deeper.
I looked at him for a long moment, letting his words settle. Letting them hurt.
I drew in a breath. “Fine.”
His eyes wavered just a bit, but I didn’t let it stop me.
“If that’s what you want,” I said, voice low, tightly controlled, “then I won’t get in your way anymore.”
I turned before he could say another word. My feet were heavy as I walked off, but my spine stayed straight. My fists were clenched, nails digging into my palm.
“You won’t hear another word from me,” I muttered to myself. “You’re on your own now.”
But no matter how far I walked, the ache stayed.
Because even when he tells me to stay away…
Even when he hates me…
All I want is to make sure he’s safe.
Moon goddess, why him? or I should say her!.
*____*----*____*
PEARL POV
I didn’t expect it to sting.
Not this much.
After I told Demyan to stay away from me, I thought I’d feel… relieved and Free. I had been suffocating under his constant questions, his narrowed eyes, his impossible protectiveness. I thought if I pushed him away, I’d finally be able to think straight.
But now?
Now the silence wrapped around me like a heavy blanket I couldn’t shake off.
He didn’t look at me during morning training. Not once.
He didn’t sit beside me during breakfast—he sat with Killian.
And when our shoulders accidentally brushed in the hallway, he recoiled like I’d burned him.
It was exactly what I asked for.
So why did it feel like I’d lost something?
Rowan noticed the shift, of course. “You two had a fight?” he asked gently as we headed toward class. I just shook my head, pretending I hadn’t heard him. I didn’t have the energy to explain the tornado of guilt and regret churning inside me.
During class, I caught Demyan out of the corner of my eye. He looked calm. Unbothered. He laughed at something Killian said. He didn’t once glance my way.
Good, I told myself. This is what you wanted.
But I couldn’t focus. The words in my textbook blurred together. My fingers kept twitching, restless. My eyes kept drifting back to the side of the room where he sat, laughing like I didn’t even exist.
Maybe this is for the best. Maybe keeping my distance will keep him safe.
But still…
Why does it feel like I’m the one being punished?
The professor’s voice cut through the murmurs in the room.
“We’ll be doing this activity in pairs. I want each of you to answer these questions together and present your conclusions by the end of the class.”
My heart stopped the moment he said it.
“Perin, you’ll pair with Demyan.”
I turned slightly, just enough to see Demyan stand up from the other side of the room, pick up his scroll and ink, and walk toward me with an expression so calm, it hurt more than if he had scowled.
He sat beside me—so close I could feel the heat from his arm, but he didn’t look at me once.
Not even when I cleared my throat.
“I… I think we should start with the third question. It’s shorter,” I said softly, offering him a slight smile, hoping—just hoping—he’d look at me.
But he didn’t.
He just dipped his quill into ink, nodded stiffly, and wrote down the answer himself. Like I wasn’t even there.
Every time I tried to speak, he cut me off by writing, scribbling, finishing the questions before I could even lift my pen.
His silence was louder than shouting.
And I hated it.
I wanted to scream. To grab his arm and shake him. Say something, Demyan. Even if it’s to tell me off again. Just stop pretending I don’t exist.
But he was ice.
When we handed in the scroll, he didn’t even wait for me. He walked back to his seat like we were strangers.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself not to chase after him.
He was keeping his word.
He was staying away from me.
And for the first time, I realized how cruel distance could feel… when it’s from someone you never wanted to lose.
The moment Demyan walked away from me like I was nothing but dust beneath his shoes, I felt something in my chest crumble.
I tried to focus on the parchment in front of me. I tried to read the words, but they all blurred together. My thoughts wouldn’t let me breathe.
I shouldn’t have yelled at him.
Why did I say all that?
Why did I push him away when all he ever did was try to protect me?
Because I was scared. Because Lucien’s words keep echoing in my ears. Because the weight of this lie I’m living feels heavier every single day. And he—Demyan—he sees through too much. He gets too close.
But that’s not his fault.
I replayed the scene in my mind. How his eyes had hardened—not with anger, but with something deeper. Disappointment. Hurt.
My chest tightened. I hadn’t just lashed out at him… I had broken something between us. Something fragile that we had barely begun to understand.
I fiddled with my quill, staring down at the table where his ink stains still lingered. He had written so fast. So cold. Like I was no longer worth a second glance.
A quiet sigh escaped my lips.
“I didn’t mean it…” I whispered under my breath. “I was just scared.”
Scared of Lucien.
Scared of the truth.
Scared of how Demyan makes my heart race and how my scent is beginning to slip, and how much harder it is to keep everything in control.
I wasn’t angry at him.
I was angry at myself.
- Writer
