Chapter 4 Problematic Men

• Skylar
• At lunchtime, I headed to the garden behind the west wing. Wolves usually avoided dragons unless forced, but I needed air and calm—which, naturally, meant trouble.
• Three dragon shifters stood in a loose semicircle, faint wing shadows visible beneath their jackets, surrounding someone smaller.
• They were cornering the shy dragon shifter I’d seen before—narrow shoulders, shaggy brown hair, bright orange eyes always half-filled with fear.
• “Come on, Gils,” one jeered. “Show us your sparks. Or are you still broken?”
• “Maybe he’s half dragon, half toaster,” another snorted.
• Gils flinched, clutching his book. One of them kicked him, sending him stumbling back, his panic only growing.
• Alright. Enough.
• “Hey!” I shouted.
• They turned. One frowned. “What’s a she-wolf doing here?”
• I ignored him. “There’s no rule saying WOLVES can’t be here. Leave. NOW!”
• The tallest dragon scoffed. “What’ll you do? Sniff us to death?”
• I stepped in front of Gils. My wolf instincts surged—claws, breath, rage, but I forced them down.
• “Touch him again,” I said lowly, “and you’ll regret it.”
• A burst of heat flared behind me. Gils panicked, sparks flickering from his fingertips.
• “I…I didn’t mean to…”
• I grabbed his wrist. “Hey. Breathe. It’s okay.”
• The flames dimmed.
• The bullies backed off not because of the fangs bared at my lips, but because the garden lights flickered, magic pulsing for a brief second. They noticed. I crushed it down instantly.
• “Whatever,” one muttered. “He’s not worth it.”
• They left.
• Gils sagged. “Thank you. I…I’m not used to anyone.”
• “It’s okay.” I smiled faintly. “I’m used to disasters.”
• He blinked. “Me too. I’m Gils. Half dragon, and apparently perfect toaster material.”
• “Nice to meet you, Gils. I’m Skylar…and you’re not a toaster.” I chuckled. “We can be disaster besties.”
• He laughed awkwardly, eyes brightening, smile unfairly sweet. Something warm bloomed in my chest.
• Then his fingers flared again.
• “Gils?”
• “I…I swear it’s an accident!”
• “It’s okay. Remember, we’re disasters.” I cupped his hands. “Two disasters together. We can manage.”
• His cheeks flushed in a way that should’ve been illegal.
• I didn’t sense him until the air suddenly cooled. Of course. A vampire’s aura always triggered a werewolf’s instincts.
• He emerged from behind a willow tree, his gaze dissecting my soul.
• “You did it again,” he murmured. “Your aura, when you defended him.”
• I stiffened. “I didn’t do anything.”
• “Skylar.” His voice dropped—gentle, but sharp enough to cut. “Your scent changed. Just like Valentina’s.”
• My breath stopped.
• Gils looked between us, confused. I didn’t break eye contact with Irlan.
• “I’m not Valentina. Whoever she is, I’m not her. I don’t know her.”
• “You resemble her,” he said, stepping closer. “Not just the scent. Your face. That reckless bravery.”
• Cold crept up my spine not fear, but the way he looked at me, like I was a wild flame he wanted to step into.
• The air tightened.
• “This is the second time you’ve acted like her,” he continued softly. “And the second time my instincts have responded.”
• “Your instincts?” My voice wavered. “For what?”
• “For you.”
• He wasn’t testing me. The sincerity in his tone felt like a confession—and my heart stumbled.
• I stepped back. “I don’t have time for this.”
• “I’m not asking for your time.” His eyes flashed red for a second—vampiric hunger, not for blood, but for answers. “I’m asking for the truth.”
• Gils tugged my sleeve. “Skylar, are you okay?”
• I took a deep breath. “I told you, I’m not her. That’s the truth.”
• Irlan didn’t believe me. He stared at us, puzzled, until Gils pulled me away.
• The day should have ended there but life clearly hated me.
• As we crossed the east courtyard, two wolf students laughed loudly.
• “Hey, Split-Fang. Did your mum curse you before she left?”
• The words hit like broken glass and blood. Mother burned. And I knew the insult came from Michael spreading rumours that I wasn’t a pure wolf.
• Before I could react, someone else did.
• Moon Goddess, why does everyone want to torment me today?
• Michael appeared out of nowhere, grabbing the boy by the collar and slamming him into a pillar with a low growl that made the air tremble.
• “Never talk about his mother,” he snarled.
• The boy shook. “I…I was just…”
• “Say it again,” Michael said, eyes glowing gold. “I dare you. One-on-one.”
• They fled.
• Michael didn’t look at me right away. His jaw was tight, anger radiating from him; anger I didn’t understand.
• When he finally did, his voice was sharp. “This is exactly why I have to keep cleaning up after you.”
• “I didn’t.”
• “And don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for you.”
• He left before I could reply. I couldn’t decide whether to punch him or hug him.
• Typical. Calling me Split-Fang one moment, spreading rumours then stopping my magic from erupting the next.
• Gils and I parted ways when he said he wanted to return to his room.
• By sunset, I was too exhausted to remember my own name. So when I entered the main hall and saw them standing there.
• Elroth.
• Gils.
• Irlan.
• Michael.
• My brain buffered.
• They weren’t talking. They weren’t standing close. All four stared at me, each with a different expression.
• Elroth wore an amused smile, like he knew a secret about me I hadn’t yet discovered. Gils’ eyes lit up instantly, and he practically glued himself to me.
• Irlan looked confused yet cold, too arrogant to dictate my identity. Then there was Michael, clicking his tongue, Alpha aura radiating protectiveness that pulled my focus from the others.
• ‘Please don’t let this be another bad omen ending with me in Black Bolt prison.’
• My breath caught.
• “Uh,” my voice rasped. “Could you stop staring at me? Except Gils. I mean him.”
• “Well, well,” Elroth smirked at Gils, then at me. “Looks like the shy dragon’s stolen your heart already.”
• Somehow, Elroth was suddenly right in front of me despite having stood ten metres away moments ago. He moved like he glided.
• Michael approached next, looking like he wanted to tear something apart, hands in his pockets.
• Irlan followed last, his unblinking stare unmistakably vampiric.
• Something sparked inside me, four directions at once. Four different energies brushed against my aura like threads tightening into a knot in my chest. I gripped my bag strap hard.
• What is happening to me?
• As they all looked at me like I was the eye of a storm they were closing in on, my voice trembled when I finally spoke.
• “Why are you all so close to me?”
• No one answered. Not even Gils.
• Oh no. I could tolerate him best, we were on the same server.
• “You have something each of us wants,” Elroth said first.
• “Mate,” Michael snapped.
• “You’re my first friend, Skylar,” Gils said softly.
• “My queen,” Irlan finished and that was the most irritating of all, because he kept comparing me to this Valentina.
• No. I am not collecting stamps labelled ‘problematic men.’