⇥ Iνσɾʮ ⇤

An enigma, the black knight.

The kind of man who sees everyone else while obscuring himself in shadow. Except she saw.

Night after night Ivory noticed how he stood apart from the rest. How he tried to blend in rather than draw attention his way. How he'd flirt with girls, but didn't lead them onto the dance floor. Didn't make a move to take them upstairs. Just scanned the crowd, as if danger lurked behind the dirty, patched up walls of the old Greek party houses.

And maybe it did. Whatever he was watching for, whatever he searched out, it must've meant something.

A certain melancholy hung about him like a heavy cloak. It emanated from his grim expression, etched itself into the faint trace of honey-brown stubble at his jaw and the long hair tied in a bun. Darkness clung to his leather jacket and the ripped jeans fit snug around his hips. But the dark he carried didn't oppress, rather accentuated his presence like a low, menacing snarl.

Like a warning to those who might get too close.

She'd never been good at making the first move, and she certainly didn't know how to approach without coming off as another girl who'd scamper away after getting his number without so much as a name to go with it.

As much as he captivated her, and as willing as she might be to let him lead her down a path of passion, she didn't want to be another quick fuck. That's not what he needed.

Did anyone else see that look in his eyes? That emptiness?

Despite her hesitation, Ivory watched him as vigilantly as he did their surroundings. The gaze from his eyes, molten gold and warm to their core, wound around her like threads of silk—and passed over every time.

He hadn't seen her.

Not that first time, nor any time after.

ღ

A disappointed sigh left her lips as dancing strobes of blacklights skitted across the fraternity living room, illuminating macabre skeletons swathed in webbing and bloody masks hanging from the walls. Their empty eye sockets stared into the throng, indifferent to the raucous laughter and cheers for another round of shots.

Enough of her energy had been wasted searching the crowd, with her only discoveries being new piles of plastic cups on the floor and more scraps of discarded costumes sprouting from the couches.

Looked like he wasn't at this party, either.

Maybe he'd only been a visitor for those first few weeks of classes, the kind that hops from one party to the next and disappears as soon as students are forced to remember their noses are better off in textbooks than down cups of beer.

Maybe he found what he was looking for, or gave up the search.

Not that she'd ever have gotten up the nerve to talk to him. Besides, she came here to give herself a break. One evening where she didn't have to worry about acing all her freshman classes and navigating a brand new environment.

Still, the subtle lack of his presence bothered her almost as much as her inability to do anything about it. He'd become familiar, like a landmark on the horizon, or the one item that distinguished one dorm from another. Something about him enraptured her, gave off the impression he wasn't like the rest of the guys whose aim landed no further than the nearest available girl.

Speaking of, she also had to keep an eye out for Jace, the only one who still cared about her unfortunate fall from grace a few weeks ago. Probably because out of the two of them, he had been far less inebriated than she first thought, and even when he didn't outright mention the details of their drunken fling, the cold, degrading look in his eyes said enough.

So far he'd been too busy dancing with Avril and Serena—people who actually wanted his attention, and hopefully they'd keep him busy for the rest of the night. Regardless, he was president of the fraternity Beta Rho, the ones hosting the Halloween party, so he should have plenty to do. Not to mention he'd been surrounded by a crowd of admirers ever since he got a dragon shaved into his newly razed head.

If he wanted to be the cool guy so bad, he could soak up the spotlight all he wanted and forget about her.

A petite redhead swayed into her line of sight—or one who was usually a redhead, but tonight donned the persona of Aphrodite the Greek goddess, complete with a wig of dark tumbling curls.

A smile quirked the corners of her mouth, and pride overtook dismay at seeing Nia finally let off some steam. Their friendship was something she wouldn't give up for the world, and that good-for-nothing college playboy who broke Nia's heart had something coming.

"Oh hey," Ivory called, waving over the top of nearby halos and horns, and in a show of theatrics, tipped her witch's hat to the side. The attempt at a cackle slurred as it left her lips, transforming into a giggle.

Darn it. The whole badass-dark witch look just wasn't happening for her.

Didn't mean she would stop trying.

"Whatchu been up to?" she asked as Nia came near enough to hear over the rumbling bass.

Nia was a little tipsier than expected, especially since it was the first party she'd decided to come to, but gorgeous nonetheless with smoky cat eyes and a golden rope cinched around her tan, hourglass waist.

During the first week, Nia had set a new record of being antisocial, but Ivory had slowly got the girl to open up and now watched her in full bloom. She wanted nothing more than to share the same quiet, genuine bookworm she'd gotten to know with the rest of the world.

"Nothin impourtant." Nia's words came out as a jumbled mix of syllables, and her face faltered.

That wasn't the goal, not at all! Parties were for having fun, and fun was important.

Ivory frowned. "Awww that makes me saaad. How can I cheer you up?"

"Already better," Nia mumbled, swaying along with the music. She closed her eyes and held onto Ivory for support. "And I think I'm getting a hang of navergating when the room does song—somersaults."

"Oh dear," Ivory hummed with a giggle. That was an issue. This room—like most after a few drinks—had a nasty habit of turning and flipping when it shouldn't. "You sound like you need a glass of water."

Grabbing Nia's hand in an attempt to avoid both of them taking a tumble, she led them through the horde of grinding ghouls and ghoulettes. Strips of the purple, hand-crafted witch's robe sashayed around her back and legs, dispersing some of the stifling body heat, but not nearly enough.

"I know just the thing. Or—" She giggled. "—maybe it's more for me than you."

It was about time she had some fun at this party, too.

Another cup of the house special—tropical margarita mix with a heavy dose of tequila—was just what she needed to take her mind off the disappearance of her shadow man.

He wasn't coming back any—

Oh.

She froze mid-step.

Crap. Scratch that.

He was here.

—Right here, in fact.

One glimpse of long auburn hair and a black leather jacket brought her to a screeching halt, and Nia smashed into her back with a groan. Before they could be noticed, she dragged them off into the corner away from the kitchen, where the man in question had been rummaging around in the fridge.

Stammering out an apology, she fumbled with the brim of her witch's hat as it contended with the wall in a losing battle. "Ohmygosh, I didn't mean to shove you. I wasn't expecting...he hasn't been..."

Words rushed out as she pressed a hand over her chest, attempting to contain the panic coursing through her system. He hadn't been around in a whole month or more.

He wasn't supposed to come back. At this point, it would've been better if he'd simply been a figment of her imagination.

Now he was mere feet away, and with the main light on in the kitchen, there was no way he wouldn't notice her.

"What?" Nia asked, lost to the extent of their predicament. "Who?"

"The guy..." she mumbled, eyes darting behind them to the open doorway, where white light filtered through the haze that had settled throughout the rest of the house.

Nia grabbed her shoulders and gave a light shake. "Who?"

The question shocked her back into focus.

"From before," she answered, hoping Nia would remember.

Nia was the only person who knew she'd even noticed this guy, and even though Nia was too good of a student to go to any other parties, she'd listened to her secret confession of developing a slight crush.

Okay, maybe more than slight.

Didn't help he was stupidly handsome. Stunningly beautiful. Spectacularly out of her league.

"The guy?" Nia asked to confirm.

She nodded. "The guy."

"Are you scared of him?" Nia asked, looking concerned. "Or just nervous?"

Multiple answers came to mind—he might look intimidating, but she'd never gotten the impression he would hurt someone for no reason—and yes, she was nervous. Sinking into a pit of quicksand would be better than attempting to be nonchalant with the man she'd spent entirely too much time watching months ago, and still remembered every detail.

"Maybe both?" She giggled in an attempt to cover her nerves. "I'm scared I'll sound like an idiot." She glanced over Nia's shoulder again. "Has he left yet?"

Nia sighed and pursed her lips.

Please say yes. There was still time to try and forget with the power of margarita mix.

But in this critical moment, what did Miss I-Didn't-Come-To-College-To-Fall-In-Love do? Her loyal friend, not to mention the introvert of the century, decided this was an opportune time to throw the world's most wicked curveball.

Still reeling from the initial shock, she was dragged into the kitchen as Nia declared in a resolute tone, "Come on."