Elara was used to walking the Academy's halls with whispers trailing behind her like smoke, a constant reminder of her precarious position in the supernatural hierarchy. But now, whenever the murmurs grew too loud or the stares too hostile, Gideon Wicke appeared as if summoned by her distress.
It started with something deceptively small. A leather-bound tome on Pack Dynamics slipped from her overloaded arms in the main corridor, its ancient binding threatening to c***k against the polished marble floor. Before she could stoop to retrieve it, before embarrassment could flood her cheeks with heat, Gideon was there.
He caught the book mid-fall with supernatural reflexes, his movement so fluid it looked choreographed. The smirk that curved his lips as he straightened held just enough charm t
