{IRIS}
I retreated another step, my back nearly brushing against the stone planter behind me. My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out the night's whispers.
Jayson noticed. His lips curved upward again, softer this time.
"Hey." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Are you afraid of me, Iris? You don't have to be."
He stepped closer—not threateningly, but casually, hands tucked into his pockets like he was strolling through campus at noon instead of prowling the gardens past curfew.
"I don't really like wolves' flesh and blood," he added lightly. "So don't worry."
I blinked.
"…Wolves?" The word echoed stupidly in my mind.
He grinned, sharp and bright. "Aren't you a werewolf?"
Before I could gather my thoughts—or my courage—he walked past me, brushing close enough that I caught his scent.
Perfume, Iron and something darker beneath it. Not unpleasant. Just… unsettling.
