His broad chest, heavily inked with intricate tattoos, was right in front of my face. I could feel the intense heat radiating from his skin and catch that dark, spice-laced scent—an intoxicating mix of luxury cologne and raw, primal Alpha that made my stomach twist into a tight knot.
Magnus took another step forward. Driven by pure panic, I scrambled back onto the desktop, trying desperately to put any distance between us. The room had shrunk to nothing, and my brain simply refused to function.
"Get away from me," I choked out, but the demand came out pathetically weak, laced with fear.
"So you just fuck them somewhere else, then?"
He slammed his hands onto the desk on either side of my hips, trapping me completely. There was no escape. I was cornered, and he hovered over me like a predator evaluating its prey.
At his crude question, my eyes snapped up to meet his. His gaze burned like liquid mercury—volatile, scorching, ready to incinerate me at the slightest touch.
But his expression was only half the problem. The real terror came from the sheer weight of his body pressing into my space, every inch of his presence so suffocatingly vivid that my legs felt like lead. Even if I managed to shove him back, my body would fail me before I made it to the door.
"I don’t sleep with anyone! What is wrong with you?!" I yelled, my heart hammering so violently against my ribs that it felt ready to burst from my chest.
"Are you a virgin?"
He threw the question out bluntly, harshly, without a single shred of delicacy. Heat flooded my face so fast it felt like my skin might crack. It was too personal, too intimate, too utterly humiliating.
He had no right to dig into my private life. We were strangers, tied together only by a cursed bond that I had never asked for and never wanted.
"What business is it of yours?!" I snapped back, attempting to wriggle backward, but his iron grip on the desk held me firmly in place.
"I don’t share what belongs to me," he growled, his voice dropping an octave into a low, terrifying rumble. "Tell me who it was."
Magnus leaned in, dragging his nose along the sensitive curve of my neck, searing my skin with his hot breath. A violent wave of goosebumps erupted across my entire body, my heart accelerating to a dangerous, frantic pace. I was certain that if he pushed me any further, my heart would simply give out.
I had never been used to anyone invading my personal space so brazenly, but Magnus Rainn couldn’t care less about my boundaries. He saw no reason to take my feelings into account or listen to a single word I said. He simply did whatever he wanted, treating me not like a living person, but like a helpless doll in his hands.
I brought my hands up and shoved hard against his chest—solid, blazing hot, and defined by iron muscles. I pushed with everything I had.
It was useless. He didn’t budge a single millimeter, anchored to the floor like a mountain.
"Get back and don’t you dare touch me! I am not a thing! How many times do I have to say it before it sinks into your head?!" I cried out, my voice trembling traitorously on the last word.
"Give me their names."
His hands slid down, squeezing my hips through the thin oversized t-shirt. I gasped, writhing and thrashing in a desperate attempt to break free, but his fingers dug in with painful, absolute authority.
"There was no one! Ever!"
A dark, satisfied smirk touched his lips. Letting go, he finally stepped back and turned to get dressed. The second his grip vanished, I bolted toward the wardrobe. I grabbed the first pair of jeans my fingers touched and pulled them on, hopping frantically on one foot. I had to cover myself before he decided to resume this humiliating interrogation.
I stole a quick glance at Magnus. He was standing with his back to me, and I froze for a fraction of a second. A dragon. A massive, intricately inked dragon sprawled across his shoulder blades.
A cold shiver ran down my spine as a terrifying thought struck me: if he had chosen to brand me with a dragon instead of that rose... the agony would have broken me. But lingering to admire his ink was absurd.
I quickly ripped off the shirt and pulled on a thick, knit sweater. It was slightly oversized, stretched out from years of wear, its wide collar constantly slipping off my shoulder. But style was the last thing on my mind.
"Let’s go."
I turned around to find Magnus waiting by the open doorway, fully dressed. White shirt, tailored trousers, his expression back to that inscrutable, icy mask.
"Where?"
I rolled up the long sleeves of my sweater and headed toward the closet for socks. My pinky toe was still throbbing, and I desperately needed to swap out the bandage.
"Breakfast."
"You’re asking me to breakfast?" I repeated, unable to mask my disbelief. After everything that had just transpired, sitting down for a meal with him felt surreal.
"No, I was addressing the cockroach behind your mini-fridge," he snapped back dryly.
"I don’t have cockroaches in my room!" I protested hotly. It was a sensitive subject; I was terrified of bugs to the point of tears and pure panic.
"Right. They’ve all taken up permanent residence in your head," he deadpanned.
I walked past him, grabbed my sneakers, and began slipping them on, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Last night had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that arguing with him was a losing battle. It was better not to stoke another fire. I had zero energy left, and fighting him was pointless anyway—he would just bulldoze through every objection until he got his way.
"You go down first. I’ll come out a couple of minutes after you," I said, pointing toward the hallway. I needed to maintain at least a shred of reputation in this dorm.
He narrowed his eyes.
"If anyone sees us leaving together, the rumors will be insufferable," I explained patiently.
"Are you ashamed to be seen with me?" A dangerous, low edge crept back into his voice.
"No. You’re the one ashamed of me—you’re the one hiding our mark," I shot back, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "If people find out you spent the night in my room, your little fan club will tear me apart for souvenirs."
Magnus fixed me with a long, heavy gaze—searching, sharp, and lingering just a second too long.
"You’re completely out of your mind," he muttered, opening the door wider. "We’re leaving together."
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