Chapter 15
Leo
The second trial comes the next week, and I’m not ready for it.
It’s a full week of obedience. Cards will come each day with varying levels of difficult tasks to complete.
My first one is absolute bullshit. Which is how I find myself pulling the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and slinking against the exterior wall of Thorne Hall, wracking my brain on how I’m going to get in and out with something that most definitely should not leave this building.
Footsteps crunch on dried leaves behind me, and I quickly whip around to come face-to-face with Parker. We’ve only seen each other twice since our threesome with Mia, and it was to prepare him for this trial, even though everyone’s individual tasks will be completely different.
I thought it would be awkward after sharing Mia with him, but it was just as irritating as it always is.
“Hey, baby,” he says casually, eyes raking over my body like he’s imagining me naked. The thought should bother me. Quite the opposite.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, even though it sends a wave of heat right through my dick.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper. A tension thrums wildly between the two of us, and I can’t explain what it is.
He steps closer, coming into my space, the scent of oak trees dancing around my head and invading all my senses.
“Me? What the hell are you doing here?”
“My trial, dumbass. I’m supposed to retrieve the portrait of the founders hanging outside Professor Thorne’s door.”
“What the fuck? Same. Are we supposed to work together?”
My heart sinks as Parker looks at me, hopeful. Why the hell does he have to look so good? Why am I suddenly seeing him that way? And why do I care that I’m about to disappoint him?
“No, we’re not. It’s a race to see who can successfully complete the task first.”
“Are you fucking serious? Why do they want to pit us against each other?” he asks. I look around quickly, even though it’s the middle of the night, I don’t trust that they’re not watching. That something could be watching.
“Because, like I’ve explained before, it’s a test.”
“Okay, but what about the brotherhood? Is that not a thing here?”
“No. Every man for himself, serve the Veil.”
“That doesn’t work for me.”
Is he serious? He can’t just change the rules. “Well, too bad. I was here first, so piss off.”
“Fuck you. I’m here now. I say we say fuck the Veil and we get it together. Maybe it’ll surprise them. Dare you to do it with me.”
A dark laugh escapes my lips. Fuck the Veil.
I wish. My eyes meet Parker’s, the green barely visible in the dim light of the moon peeking in through the trees.
His blond hair is purposefully disheveled, and I have the strongest urge to run my fingers through it.
What would it be like to be more carefree?
Not to do things exactly as my father has told and trained me to do.
Maybe working together would surprise them; maybe that’s the goal to begin with.
Can we put our own gain and focus aside to work together to complete something?
I quickly weigh my options while Parker leans casually against the stone wall.
He’s exuding an air of indifference, but then I remember his confession, and I know that’s not true.
He wants to learn more about himself, and the way to do that is by getting through these trials and understanding where his lineage comes from.
There’s no evil at Corvus, I believe that much; the five founders must have worked together to create such a strong foundation that’s prevailed for hundreds of years.
You don’t do that by working against each other.
Maybe my dad has it all wrong, maybe the legacy at Corvus isn’t just taking your rightful place in a line of succession.
Maybe they put such a strong emphasis on lineage because that’s created through . . . well, something greater than hate.
My eyes trace over the strong features of his face, lingering a little too long on his lips.
“The way you’re looking at me, baby, I’d be careful.” His warning pierces my thin armor, my dick taking notice. Fuck, when he calls me that. It makes me want to drop to my knees, makes me want to do things that would change everything.
“Let’s do it together.”
“Thatta boy.”
“Do you know where it is? I’ve only been in here twice, and that was freshman and sophomore year.”
“Last I saw, it was hanging right outside Professor Thorne’s chamber door. I have no idea how it’s on the wall, but I can get us there.”
“I’m trusting you.” Parker reaches out and gently taps the side of my cheek with his palm, the spark that lights making our eyes connect.
We’re quick to brush it off, but the tension humming between us makes my head a foggy mess.
He sends me a wink before moving in front of me, leading the way into Thorne Hall.
All the academic buildings are open twenty-four-seven, but the professor’s private chambers will always be locked. Hopefully the portrait hasn’t moved since the last time Parker saw it.
We weave our way silently over the aged, stone floors, the flames in the sconces dancing wildly as we pass, as if the school itself is happy with our choice. With renewed confidence, I step closer to Parker, keeping us together, following him into the depths of the building.
Rich leather and sage, the scent of incense burning, fills my nose as we find Thorne’s chambers.
An ornate frame hangs next to his door on the stone wall, much larger than I was anticipating.
A portrait of the five founders, Abel Thorne, Edmund Mortwood, Francis Harrow, Isabel Ashcroft, and Cecelia Grimsley, looks back at us.
Each is dressed in crimson robes, the hoods over their heads, the only visible features their eyes that look empty and hollow, void of life.
Parker and I stand shoulder to shoulder, looking at it. “What’s that mean?” Parker asks, pointing to the tiny script in the bottom right corner.
“Veritas latet. Latin for the truth lies hidden.”
“How the fuck are we going to get this out of here? It’s huge and heavy.”
“We’re going to remove the painting from the frame.” Parker looks at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind. And maybe I have. But there’s no way we’re getting this frame out of here unnoticed.
“What if we ruin it?”
“We won’t. I’m an artist, I know how to handle artwork.”
Parker arches a brow, his eyes darting all over my face. “Now that makes much more sense than whatever science bullshit you’ve been studying.”
“Yeah, well, tell that to my dear ole dad. Now help me.” Parker nods, dropping the conversation. I pull out the tools I brought with me, not knowing what to expect when I got here. “You grab that side, I’ll get this one, we’ll lift it off the wall on three.”
Parker nods again, but as he steps away from me, his fingers brush against mine. My breathing hitches, and I look down at the spot. I can feel Parker’s eyes on me, and I know I just gave away that I felt it. Felt whatever spark comes to life when we touch.
Shaking my head, I move to the side of the portrait, looking behind it and sighing in relief. It’s held up by a wire, so it’ll easily come off the wall if we lift.
“Ready? One, two, three.” Together we lift the frame, the wire unhooking, as we squat to the ground and rest it against the stone wall.
We work together to turn it around, and I carefully remove the backing.
Slipping on gloves, knowing how old the paper is, I gently pull it out, rolling it up and tucking it under my arm.
Parker watches me intently, not saying a word, and before we know it, we’re lifting the frame back onto the wall, minus the artwork that sat inside it for god knows how long.
I sigh a breath of relief.
“Now to get out of here unnoticed.”
I follow Parker back through the labyrinth of stone corridors, but we both freeze when we hear the rhythmic clap-clap of shoes on the stone floor breaking through the silence around us.
Fear wraps its cold claws around my chest. My heart stops beating, and before my head can catch up to what’s happening, electricity shocks at my side, Parker’s hand on my hip pulling me quickly into a dark alcove just barely big enough for both our bodies.
My mouth opens to gasp, but his free hand is right there, covering my lips, his head shaking slightly.
He wordlessly asks me if I’m good, arching his brows.
I nod once, and then he’s releasing me, dropping his hands to his sides.
The warmth lingers from his touch, a tingling sensation that clouds my thoughts.
We stand there in the silence, keeping our breaths shallow, not wanting to make a single sound.
Our chests are only inches apart, and there’s nowhere to look but him.
My mind starts to dance wildly, the tension increasing between us.
Parker looks unaffected, his face smooth of any tells, but his breathing is coming harder, longer; deeper breaths that tell me he feels this just as much as I do.
His eyes flit down to my lips, and I instinctively wet them, dragging my tongue slowly between the seam before pulling my bottom one between my teeth.
The echo of steps comes closer and closer just as Parker leans forward, closing the space between us in the tiniest of increments, like he’s scared I’ll run if he moves too fast.
I look down at his lips, just as a body walks past our hidden spot.
Their footsteps echo away from us several paces, and just as I release a breath, they stop.
Terror grips me again, but Parker shakes his head, our eyes never leaving each other’s.
I focus on the green of his irises, his deep breathing, and how his chest seems to brush against mine ever so slightly when he inhales.
Parker lifts his hand and presses his thumb against my bottom lip, swiping it across my flesh.
I’m too stunned to move, my focus now completely on him, the person standing just outside our hiding spot long forgotten.
Lightning strikes at the point of contact, my heart beating so loudly I can hear it between my ears.
He drags his finger downward, pulling my lip with him until it pops free.
Parker holds me hostage, and my body gives up all control.
I hold my breath, unable to make a single movement, and then the footsteps pick back up again, taking them farther and farther away from us.
Parker’s head cocks to the side, listening to make sure we’re in the clear.
I sag against the stone wall, relieved we didn’t get caught, turned on from the close proximity to Parker, and wanting so badly to say fuck it and be reckless.
When I meet Parker’s eyes again, the spell is broken, and the dust settles. It’s probably for the best. No good could come from him kissing me.