Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
B eaufort
I storm along the pathway, my magic sparking in my fingertips, crashing through my veins, my blood red hot.
How long has it been since someone defied me? Since they refused me? Since they looked me in the eye and told me, no?
I don’t remember. I wonder if anyone ever has.
And fuck, it makes me hot, makes me hard. Makes me want that little scrap of a girl – with her fierce eyes, spitting at me like a wild cat who might lash out and bite.
I may not admit it to anyone – maybe I’ve hardly admitted it to myself – but I’ve harbored the same doubts Dray has. I know what I saw in that flash of a vision – streaking past my eyes the moment our gazes connected – but nonetheless, I’ve wondered, why her?
Why some pathetic nobody from the furthest, most rotten, hopeless shithole in the realm.
It makes no sense.
Now, I’m beginning to see the appeal. To understand it.
My lips curl up into a smile and I run my tongue against them.
Her lips are soft and plump. Okay, they were pursed together, set into a downward frown. It makes them all the more tempting. I’d like to taste them. I’d like to drag them through my teeth. I’d like them wrapped around my cock.
I could have a lot of fun with her. We could have a lot of fun with her.
I forget the bad mood I’ve been brewing all last night and all this morning and stride towards my next lesson with a bounce in my step – some history class, apparently we need to know about the history of our realm, as if it hasn’t been drilled into us all since the moment we took our first breath.
I sit beside Dray, hardly aware of what the old dude with his scruffy beard and tweed suit is droning on about, focused on the visions I’m creating in my head – visions of exactly how I’m going to play with our little thrall tonight.
Because for all that defiance and spiteful attitude, I have no doubt, no doubt at all that she will come tonight.
Yeah, she’s had her little fun – played at being the brat. But she knows who we are. She knows how powerful we are. She knows what a fucking honor it is to be chosen by us.
She will be there.
“Why are you in such a good mood?” Dray says, leaning closer towards me, his nose suddenly twitching. “And what the hell is that smell?” He takes a deeper inhale, his eyes spinning in their sockets and his eyelids drifting shut. “Fuck, that shiiit smells goooood.”
“The girl,” I tell him, probably wearing a smug grin on my face.
Dray’s eyes flick open and he stares right at me. “The girl?” He studies me. “You’re serious?”
I nod. “We had a little chat about her disobedience.”
“That sounds fun,” Dray says, left leg bouncing with excitement.
“Yeah,” I say, rubbing at my chin. “It was.”
Dray leans towards me and sniffs again. “Her scent …” he says, as I push him away from me, “it’s fucking amazing. Smells just like …” He groans.
“I told you,” I say. “She’s the one.”
“With a scent like that,” he says, rolling his shoulders and fidgeting on his chair. “She’s coming tonight?”
“Yeah,” I say. “She’ll be there.”
Except eight comes and goes.
I’m waiting patiently in my study for the knock on our door, distracting myself with some reading – some reading I’ve barely looked at, because, shit, I’m impatient. I want to see her again.
But there’s no knock.
More and more minutes pass.
The excitement I was feeling curdles in my gut, anger filtering through my veins to replace it. I glance at the clock on my mantel again. 8:30. She isn’t just late. She isn’t coming.
My hands curl into fists on my desktop.
I was wrong about her. This isn’t fun – some clever act to rile us up.
The little brat is for real. And this is fucking disrespectful.
Does she know how many of the losers out there would kill to be in her shoes? The things they would do to be given half a chance? Does she realize who the fuck she is dealing with here?
She’s about to find out.
I yank open the bottom drawer of my desk and pull out the pages of neatly typed text I was given yesterday, fastened together by a staple in the corner. These are the names of all the new students at the academy. Their names and their rooms.
I flip the pages until I reach surnames starting with S, then run my forefinger down the rows until I find her name.
Storm, Briony Mae. Date of Birth 23rd April. Born: Slate Quarter. Room: 10, Old Tower.
I stare at that information for several minutes, then slam the pages shut, grab my jacket from the back of my chair and step out into the night. The wind churns violently, flapping the tails of my jacket and whipping my hair around my face. I lower my head against it and set off from the front of the academy where the towers are shiny and new, towards the far side where the towers are much older, their upkeep clearly not a priority.
I meet one or two other students out on the pathways, heads also bowed against the storm, hurrying this way or that, eyes darting at me in curiosity. Those looks of curiosity become even more apparent the closer I draw to her tower and the more rotten the buildings grow.
Her tower has definitely earned its name, the oldest and most decrepit by far. It must have been built at least a millennium before and it’s a miracle it’s still standing. I climb the narrow stairwell, a few doors creaking open as I pass, people peering out. They’ll be whispering about this tomorrow.
It makes me even angrier. She’s making a laughingstock out of us. Once, I can over look. I can dismiss it as a bit of fiery fun. But twice. I can see Kratos and his brothers laughing at me now. Can see the Smyte twins sneering.
I growl under my breath as I reach the final floor.
For one brief moment, I consider hammering on the door. Then I dismiss that, raise my hand and hurtle magic right at the locked doorway. It buckles and slams open and I catch sight of her, curled on top of her bed, gaping at me in horror.
I don’t wait for an invitation, I stride straight inside and slam the door behind me.
“What the hell are you doing?” she shrieks, leaping off the bed. She’s dressed in just a t-shirt, one that barely skims the underneath of her ass, a lot of freaking bare leg on show.
“You’re late,” I growl at her. “Don’t you have a fucking watch?”
She lifts her chin like she did when I backed her soft body against the wall. Fuck, it was hard not to press my body against her then, it’s even harder not to do it now. Not to slam her onto that bed and cage her again.
“No, I don’t have a watch.”
I snatch up the sleeve of my jacket, and snap off my own wristwatch, flinging it on the mattress that stands between us.
“Well, you do now.”
Her eyes dart down to the watch.
It’s made from rare rose realm crystals. It’s probably worth more than all her possessions combined, which, by the looks of this bare room are few and far between.
“I told you before,” she says calmly, “I don’t want to be a thrall.”
“Because?” I say, humoring her.
“I’m not some thing to be owned and ordered about.”
“You seem to have this perverse idea of what a thrall is, sweetheart. It’s a fucking honor. A privilege.”
“Ha,” she snorts. “You can wrap it up in all the pretty little velvet collars you like. I know what it is. And I am not interested.”
I take a step forward.
“And I am sorry you seem to believe you have a choice in this matter.”
“Can’t you just pick some other girl or boy?” she says in frustration. “I mean, why the hell do you want me anyway?”
“Because I do,” I say. Maybe I could convince her if I told her the truth. But I don’t trust her enough to tell her. Dray and Thorne are the only ones who know about the visions. And I’d like it to stay that way. “And I always get what I want.”
“Not this time,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.
Now it’s my time to snort. “Like I said, you seem to think you have a choice. You don’t. I’ve made up my mind. You are going to be our thrall – for the twelve months we’re at the academy. Maybe,” I say, my gaze traveling down her form with heat, “for longer if we choose.”
“Longer–” she cries, but I cut right across her.
“So, we can do this one of two ways. You can come willingly, like a good little thrall. Or you can come kicking and screaming. It makes no difference to me. I’ll happily drag you across the academy for every other student to see if that’s how you want it to be, sweetheart.”
“Drag me?” she scoffs, examining me and reading how deadly serious I am. “You wouldn’t?”
“You wanna try me and find out?”
She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a little less sure of herself now.
Behind us, the handle of her door starts to turn and I raise my hand, forcing my magic against the door to hold it shut.
The door rattles in the doorway and then a voice calls out: “Cupcake, are you okay in there?”
I frown at her. “Him again. Is this the reason–”
“No–
“–because let me make myself clear. It’s just us. No one else. No one else gets to touch you.”
“Are you fucking serious?” she says.
“Deadly. Now, I’m giving you one last chance to show you can behave and to do as you’re told. You come to our rooms as instructed tomorrow evening. If you don’t …” I warn. “Do you understand?” I ask her. After all, I thought I’d made myself fucking clear earlier today and that didn’t prove to be the case. I want to be sure this time.
“What? You’re not going to drag me there now?” she says with a whole heap of sarcasm. Maybe she really is ignorant of what we can do. Maybe she really is unaware of just how powerful I am. If not, she has some serious balls for such a small scrap of a girl with no fucking powers, plus an only recently healed black eye and ankle.
“No, I want you to come willingly like a good little thrall, Cupcake ,” I say, my eyes lingering on where I healed the bruising around her eye socket.
I release my hold on the door and that tall skinny boy with far too much attitude comes tumbling into the room.
“Touch her,” I say, bending over him and getting right into his face, “and I will kill you.”
Then I storm out and go to take my bad mood out on someone who most definitely deserves it.