The airport smelled like metal, coffee, and impatience.
I hated it.
Too many people. Too much noise. Too many exits that all looked the same. I shifted my backpack higher on my shoulder and checked the departure board again, even though I already knew the answer.
DELAYED.
WEATHER CONDITIONS.
INDEFINITE.
"Perfect," I muttered.
Snowstorms weren't supposed to hit this early in the season, but apparently the universe had other plans. Flights were grounding one by one, travelers groaning in unison as if rehearsed.
I turned toward the seating area—and walked straight into a wall.
A very solid wall.
My forehead barely missed his chest, but the impact knocked the breath out of me anyway.
"Oh—sorry! I wasn't—"
The words died in my throat.
He was tall. Not just tall—impossibly so. Broad shoulders stretching the dark coat he wore, dark hair slightly unkempt, like he'd run his hands through it one too many times. His face was sharp in a way that didn't look entirely human, all hard lines and restrained power.
And his eyes—
They locked onto mine.
Gold. Deep, molten gold.
Something inside my chest stuttered.
He didn't apologize. Didn't move. Just stared at me like I'd done more than bump into him.
Like I'd broken a rule I didn't know existed.
"I—are you okay?" I asked, suddenly aware of how close we were.
Too close.
The air around him felt… heavy. Warm. Charged. My skin prickled as if static electricity hummed between us.
"Yes," he said finally.
His voice was low, controlled—but strained, like every word was being filtered through clenched teeth.
Then, quieter: "You shouldn't be here."
A laugh slipped out of me, nervous and confused. "Pretty sure this is a public airport."
His jaw tightened.
Before he could respond, a sharp crack of thunder echoed outside, followed by the airport lights flickering violently.
Gasps rippled through the terminal.
Then the power went out.
Darkness swallowed us whole.
People screamed. Phones lit up. Emergency lights blinked red but didn't fully turn on. Somewhere, a child started crying.
Instinctively, I reached out.
My fingers brushed his wrist.
Electricity shot through me.
Not metaphorical. Not emotional. Real. A jolt that traveled up my arm and settled low in my stomach, warm and unsettling.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
"Don't," he said immediately.
Too late.
The emergency lights finally stabilized, bathing the terminal in dim red. I pulled my hand back like I'd been burned.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean to—"
His eyes were darker now. Not gold.
Almost amber. Almost… glowing.
People surged toward the exits, security shouting orders, directing passengers to the nearest safe zones until backup generators fully engaged.
A uniformed officer approached us. "You two—this section's closed. Follow me."
Before I could respond, the officer was already herding us forward, along with a small cluster of unlucky travelers, into a restricted waiting corridor.
A door slammed shut behind us.
Locked.
The space was narrow. Windowless. Too small for the number of people crammed inside. When the others shifted, I was pushed backward—straight into him.
His hand came up instantly, gripping the wall beside my head.
Not touching me.
Holding himself back.
I could feel his heat at my back, solid and overwhelming. My pulse raced, my body hyper-aware of every inch of space we shared—or didn't.
"Is this a joke?" someone complained nearby.
"I need air," I murmured, though the air felt thick, saturated with something wild.
He leaned closer, his mouth near my ear—but not quite touching.
"Don't panic," he said quietly. "And don't move."
My breath caught. "You don't get to tell me that."
A corner of his mouth twitched. "Trust me. I do."
I turned my head just enough to see his profile. "Why?"
For a moment, he didn't answer.
Then, barely audible: "Because if you keep reacting like this, I'm going to lose control."
My stomach flipped.
"Control of what?"
His gaze dropped to my lips. Just for a second.
Long enough to feel intentional.
Dangerous.
He looked away sharply.
"Stay close," he said. "It's safer."
"From what?" I asked.
His voice dropped, rough and honest in a way that made my skin tighten.
"From me."
Before I could ask anything else, a deep, unfamiliar sound vibrated through the corridor.
Not human.
His entire body went rigid.
I felt it then—the truth pressing in, heavy and impossible.
Whatever he was hiding, it wasn't normal.
And somehow—
I knew I was already part of it.