Chapter 10: It’s the Tom & Jerry Approach

Three days.

Seventy-two hours of hell.

Blair Willows was no longer a functioning human being. She was a walking, barely-breathing zombie fueled only by coffee and panicked adrenaline.

Her daily routine had devolved into a brutal survival loop. She would wake up at dawn, survive classes where beastwomen constantly tried to make her regret being born, and then suffer through a grueling kitchen detention under the roaring commands of the Bear chef. Finally, she would drag her aching body to the East Wing armory, where she polished heavy broadswords until her fingers bled.

But the physical exhaustion wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was the paranoia.

Blair paused at the corner of a quiet, sunlit corridor near the mathematics building, pressing her back flat against the marble wall. She reached into her bag and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

It was her "Killian Avoidance Route" map.

Over the last three days, she had mapped out most of the Crown Prince’s schedule based entirely on Heather’s gossip. She had red X’s drawn over the Royal Faction courtyards, the dining pavilions, and the main campus thoroughfares. She had navigated the academy like a ninja, slipping through abandoned corridors and wings just to ensure she never, ever crossed paths with the Snake Prince again.

"Okay," Blair muttered to herself, her voice raspy from exhaustion. She traced a trembling finger along a blue ink line on the map. "If I take the west corridor past the botanical gardens, I can bypass the central quad completely. No royals. No snakes. Just a straight shot to Economics."

She shoved the map back into her bag, took a deep breath, and stepped out from behind the corner, power-walking down the empty hallway.

As she rounded the final pillar, checking over her shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, she walked face-first into what felt like a solid wall.

The impact sent Blair stumbling backward. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, hitting the floor with a thud. She rubbed her nose, her exhausted brain struggling to process what she had just run into.

"Stop."

The word was spoken quietly, but it carried a weight that seemed to instantly drop the temperature in the hallway by ten degrees.

Blair’s blood turned to ice. Her heart seized in her chest.

She didn’t need to look up. She knew exactly who it was.

Blair instantly turned into a trembling statue. She squeezed her eyes shut as tight as they would go, locking her knees to keep from collapsing.

I am a rock, Blair chanted frantically in her mind. I am a pebble. I am an insignificant speck of dust. If I don’t move, he can’t see me. His vision is based on movement. Wait, is that a T-Rex or a snake? It doesn’t matter, I am going to die.

Killian stepped slowly around her, positioning himself in front of her trembling form.

"Open your eyes, lesser."

Blair whimpered softly, but she didn’t dare disobey a direct command. She slowly, fearfully peeled her eyelids open.

Crown Prince Killian Lexur was towering over her. He was dressed in his uniform, looking every inch the untouchable royalty he was. His silver hair fell perfectly across his forehead, but his face was a mask of cold fury.

His purple, slitted eyes were locked onto her face, looking at her like he genuinely wanted to end her right there in the hallway.

Blair’s lungs expanded. Her jaw unhinged. The terrified, dying-seagull shriek began to vibrate in the back of her throat.

Killian moved faster than the human eye could track.

Before a single sound could escape her lips, his hand clamped firmly over her mouth. In the same fluid motion, he stepped forward, using his body to back her up until her spine hit the wall behind her.

Blair’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, her muffled scream dying against his palm.

"Why," Killian hissed, leaning down so his face was mere inches from hers, "do you insist on screeching at me like a wounded animal every single time you see me?"

Blair frantically tried to respond. "Because you’re terrifying and you look like you want to eat me!" she screamed into his palm.

But with his hand clamped over her mouth, it just came out as a series of frantic, muffled grunts. "Mmph! Mmmph grhhh!"

Killian clicked his tongue in annoyance, his eyebrows drawing together. "Are you incapable of answering a simple question without babbling? Or is your ’genius’ intellect just a parlor trick?"

"Mmph grmph!" Blair shot back.

Killian leaned in just a fraction of an inch closer.

For a long moment, the hallway fell completely silent.

Blair froze against the wall, her heart hammering against her ribs. Killian was staring deeply into her eyes.

Blair felt a terrifying, electric jolt shoot down her spine. It felt as though his gaze was slicing right through her soul.

The proximity was overwhelming. His chest brushed against hers with every slow, even breath he took.

Then, the spell broke.

Killian’s nose crinkled in sudden disgust. He abruptly released her, taking a large step backward as if she had suddenly caught fire.

Blair gasped, sucking in a lungful of air, her knees knocking together.

Without breaking eye contact, Killian reached into the inner pocket of his blazer and pulled out a small sanitizing wipe. He tore it open and proceeded to wipe the hand that had just been covering her mouth.

"You smell," Killian noted coldly, tossing the used wipe into a nearby waste bin.

Blair didn’t say a word. She remained pressed flat against the wall, her eyes darting between him and the clear pathway down the hall.

"However," Killian continued, lacing his hands behind his back and lifting his chin. He looked down at her with an expression of supreme, arrogant superiority. "Despite your lack of hygiene, I am prepared to make you a formal off—"

Blair didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. She didn’t care what the offer was. She only saw an opening.

Blair inhaled sharply, tilted her head back, and let out a blood-curdling shriek.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

She snatched her bag off the floor and bolted down the corridor with the speed of a terrified rabbit, her sneakers squeaking wildly against the polished floor.

Killian was left standing alone in the empty, ringing hallway.

His mouth was still slightly open, his grand offer dying on his tongue. He turned his head to watch the human girl disappear around the far corner, her gray skirt flapping wildly behind her.

Again?

Prey did not run from him. Prey submitted. Prey begged. Prey swooned and offered themselves up willingly.

Yet, this insignificant, smelly little human had just looked the future King of the Beast World in the eyes, screamed in his face for the third time in three days, and ran away.

Killian slowly raised a hand to the bridge of his nose, pinching it as a familiar, throbbing headache began to bloom behind his eyes.

"An untamed puppy," Killian murmured.