The King's Rose Quartz Vow

The next morning, I took the new transfer application to the administration building.

The registrar stamped my documents.

Just as I turned to leave, someone stepped in front of me.

Damon. His brow was slightly furrowed, an expression that once would have triggered an instinct in me—an urge to soothe, to yield, to take responsibility for his discomfort.

Now, that instinct was dead.

"Rosalie," he said, his voice tight with annoyance, "did you do something to the ward on your house?"

He spoke as if nothing had changed between us. "I came back to check on you last night after I took Mila home," he continued. "I couldn't get in."

I cut him off. "Yes, I reset it."

He paused, his jaw tightening. He was irritated but not yet alarmed.

"Then update my access," he commanded. "It'll be easier for me to come take care of you."

"There's no need," I replied. "I won't be living there after graduation."

His gaze finally dropped to the folded papers in my hand.

"Oh. Right," he said dismissively. "I almost forgot. Don't worry, I'll come by tomorrow to get mine stamped."

The sight of us walking together had become a rarity since Mila Hayes arrived.

I closed my eyes, needing one final confirmation.

I asked softly, "What exactly are we to each other, Damon?"

He froze. For a split second, it looked like he might finally tell the truth.

"Rosalie, the truth is, I..."

"Damon."

Mila Hayes appeared behind him, her Omega scent carefully suppressed, soft and unobtrusive.

"Didn't you say you'd help me study today?" she asked gently. "I was waiting for you, but you disappeared."

She handed him a notebook. "I saw the tutoring plan you made for me a month ago," she added, "so I organized my notes to match."

Then she smiled, a little shy, a little thoughtful. "I hope you don't mind that I looked. I know I only got the chance to be here by special permission from the committee, and I don't want to waste it."

Her words were flawless.

"Of course I don't mind," Damon replied instantly.

He glanced at me as he spoke, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. But when he saw my stony lack of reaction, that guilt soured into unease.

I kept my expression neutral, even as bitterness coiled in my gut.

"You two talk," I said, turning to leave. "I'm going."

Only then did Mila look at me, feigning surprise. "Rosalie."

She hesitated, then said with practiced care, "Are you upset that Damon is helping me study?"

She lowered her eyes. "I don't have bloodline tutors or private teachers like you do. If I've overstepped, I'm so sorry."

There was no accusation. Only insinuation.

I ignored her. "Move."

Damon's restraint snapped. He seized my wrist, his claws digging in just enough to sting.

"Rosalie Celine," he said coldly. "Watch your tone."

He yanked me forward, forcing me to face Mila. "Apologize."

A cold calm settled over me.

Without a flicker of hesitation, my hand cracked across his face.

The sound was sharp and loud, echoing in the hallway.

The students around us froze, their heads whipping in our direction.

"Damon," I said calmly, meeting his stunned gaze without flinching. "You're the one who needs to apologize."

"Not to Mila Hayes," I continued flatly, "but to me. And to the sacred bond you defiled."

This time, his wolf didn't rise in fury.

It recoiled.

Damon stood there, stunned, as if something he had always taken for granted had just been ripped away.

Without a backward glance, I strode past him.

The hallway fell into a dead, shocked silence.

No one dared to move.