Zara’s POV
The chandeliers above glowed with soft golden light, reflecting off every white outfit in the room. Students twirled and swayed in coordinated rhythm, their laughter blending with the melody. I was caught in it too, Zarek’s hand warm and steady against the small of my back, his other gripping my hand as though he owned it.
I tried not to notice the way his smirk grew with every step I matched. He wasn’t just dancing—he was staking a claim. His hold wasn’t crushing, but it was firm enough to remind me that the end of this dance meant something more.
The rule was clear, but it was as if it was whispered through my mind again, as if Nova herself had leaned in to announce it: whoever you finish the dance with, you must kiss.
My stomach knotted. Not Zarek. Anyone but Zarek.
I di
