The ship emerged through the mist like something from a forgotten tale, its silver hull catching faint traces of dawn. It didn’t belong in the real world. It hovered between worlds.
This was the only way to reach Academia—the island spoken of in clipped tones by the old guard of supernatural elite. It lived in myth and fear. One day. One night. One crossing. No exceptions. No shortcuts. No loopholes.
And definitely no planes or portals.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Valeria muttered, the words slipping out like frost, her breath curling in the chill air. Her eyes swept over the horizon, stopping at the edge of the fog-drenched sea.
Valeria stepped onto the deck and winced. The wind hit her hard—cold, salty, relentless. It whipped her coat around her legs and stung her cheeks like a slap. She pulled the fabric tight across her chest, more out of habit than comfort. The coat was too clean, too rigid. Like something you wore to prove a point.
She stood still for a second, letting the wind push at her. The air smelled sharp, full of salt and rust and whatever else the ocean carried. It settled on her skin, crept into her mouth. Her eyes watered, but she didn’t wipe them.
Her shoulders were tense—she could feel it in her neck, the way her jaw clenched without her meaning to. Her stomach felt off, not quite nausea, more like nerves she didn’t want to admit were there.
She stared straight ahead. The sea was too alive and too chaotic. Her fingers clenched the railing, knuckles bone-white.
Her mother’s voice echoed, scornful: “A vampire who fears water is like a wolf who fears the moon.”
Hilarious.
“Ugh, what did I do in my past life to deserve this?” she muttered, her tone low and lethal, half to herself and half to the sky.
“Probably drank one too many humans dry,” came a voice behind her, all light and amusement.
Valeria whipped around.
There he stood, a boyish grin, tousled sandy hair, and a hoodie that looked like it hadn’t seen a wash since the last full moon. His amber eyes were lazy and bright, like campfire embers. Tall. Smug. And radiating an unbearable warmth.
Her lips curled. “Excuse me?”
“Just a guess,” he said, shrugging as if this were the world’s most casual conversation. “You looked like you needed a joke.”
“I didn’t.”
He smirked. “Yeah, no kidding.”
Silence stretched. Not the comfortable kind. The kind that buzzed, sharp at the edges.
“You smell like wet fur,” she muttered, arms crossed, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder.
He laughed. “That’s bold, coming from a girl who smells like death and designer perfume.”
His grin faltered for half a second, then came back sharper. “You heard me.”
She turned, slow and controlled. Crossed her arms like she was locking herself down. “You’re a werewolf.”
“Guilty.” He winked.
She gave him a look like she was mentally setting him on fire. “Stay away from me.”
He stepped in, just enough to make it personal. His scent hit her—pine, rain, and the kind of earth that stuck to your boots. Grounded. Real. She hated how it cut through the static in her chest.
“Why?” he said, voice low and amused. “Scared you might fall for me?”
Valeria barely got a word out before the ship lurched sideways. The deck rolled hard beneath her boots, and her balance vanished. Her shoulder slammed into the railing with a dull thud, and she grabbed the edge out of instinct, knuckles going white against cold, salt-slick metal.
Then he crashed into her.
The impact knocked the air from her lungs. His chest hit hers, his hands gripping her arms to keep them both from going down. They were too close—his face inches from hers, breath warm and uneven. For a second, neither of them moved. The world tilted around them, wind howling, the sea snarling just below, but everything between them just... stopped.
Valeria froze.
Not because she wanted to, but because she couldn’t help it. Every muscle locked up. Her mind screamed get off, but her body was stuck somewhere between tension and fear.
And he didn’t move either.
His eyes flicked over her face, not mocking, not smug—just steady. He wasn’t letting go.
Then the ship tilted again, harder this time. A wave slammed into the hull, sending a sheet of water across the deck. It soaked through her coat, hit her skin like ice, and still—she didn’t flinch.
The fog thickened around them, swallowing the edge of the world. The sea roared louder. The railing under her hands shook. Her boots slipped again.
“Careful!” he shouted over the wind, voice sharp.
“Don’t touch me!” she snapped, and her voice cracked in the middle, brittle and thin.
“You’re about to fall!”
She knew. She could feel it—that terrifying moment where your weight goes the wrong way and gravity forgets how to help. Her hand scrambled for a grip, but her legs weren’t under her anymore.
Then his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her in.
Not gently. Not romantically. Just enough to keep her from going over.
Everything in her went still. Her body, her breath, even her heartbeat stalled.
She was no longer falling. But she wasn’t safe either. Not like this. Not with a werewolf like him.
His voice was low, close to her ear. “Breathe.”
She couldn’t. Not at first. Her ribs felt too tight, her lungs locked. When she finally dragged in a breath, it shuddered.
“I hate the sea,” she muttered, barely louder than the wind.
“Yeah,” he said, voice steady. “You were holding that rail like it was the last solid thing in the world.”
She didn’t answer. Her jaw clenched. She hated how her hands were still gripping his jacket, like she needed it. Like she needed him.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
“What?” she rasped.
“Just do it. Trust me. The water makes it worse.”
She wanted to argue. Tell him to shove off. Tell him he didn’t get to say things like that. But instead, her eyes slipped shut.
And it helped. Not a lot. Not enough. But enough to breathe again.
His arms didn’t loosen, but they didn’t tighten either. He was just there. Holding her steady while the sea raged around them. Pine. Rain. Earth. She hated how grounding he smelled. How real he felt.
When the ship evened out a little, her body finally obeyed.
She shoved herself back, like she’d been scalded.
“Let go of me.”