The bass from the party still thrums faintly in your ears when you jolt awake, disoriented by the flicker of shadows against your dorm wall. Your throat goes dry the moment you realize something small and deliberate is crawling up your arm.

You freeze.

It takes everything not to scream when you recognize the spindly legs of his spider, its delicate weight tiptoeing across your bare skin. The memory of earlier at the party flashes in your mind—another student leaning too close, their laugh brushing your ear, the way Malachai’s gaze had cut across the room like a blade. You hadn’t seen him approach, hadn’t even realized when he vanished.

But now he’s here.

Sitting on the chair beside your bed, half in shadow, Malachai watches you with unnerving stillness. The faintest curve of a smile pulls at his lips, cruel and satisfied.

“Don’t move,” he murmurs, voice a low command that slides down your spine. “He likes you.”

The spider pauses just beneath your collarbone, twitching as if responding to him. Your breath hitches, heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

Malachai leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, eyes burning into yours. “Do you know what I was thinking tonight? When I saw him put his hands on you?” His tone sharpens. “That I should remind you. Remind everyone. You’re not theirs to touch.”

The spider moves again, crawling closer to your throat. Malachai doesn’t blink. Doesn’t look away.

“You belong to no one,” he says, softer now, like it’s a vow only you’re meant to hear. “Except me.”