Chapter 5
V
SILAS
My dorm room is silent, save for the scratch of my pen against paper.
Cedric is away at class—this is one of the few times I have time to myself, to do whatever I want. I have no real reason to be studying, but I do it anyway.
It’s not because I care.
I could pass that Poisson and Binomial Distributions paper half asleep.
To be honest, I’m doing it to keep my mind from spiralling—from picturing her, from thinking about the way she looked at me at the funeral when I broke up her little chit-chat with Lucian, even her hesitancy by the lake, even though I ultimately got what I wanted.
“She is slipping away from you.”
The Spirit’s voice is in my head.
I’ve done everything that The Spirit’s said, yet it demands more—more blood, more sacrifices, more worship. I root my fingers in my hair, the pinch on my scalp grounding me just enough. I’m losing control.
“Bring her to me.”
The lamp flickers violently as the words course through my mind. I could. But I’m already on thin ice with Eden. I need her to believe I’ve changed. At least until we walk down the aisle together as Lord and Lady Peregrine-Ashford. She woke up during the last ritual.
“She has to accept you for who you are.”
She had a meltdown because I drew a pentagram on her chest. I can force her down the aisle. I can break her into submission. I can ruin her, easily. But the more I think about Eden, the more I want her to be willing, or at least make it seem like she has a choice.
Yes, she’s mine.
But I need her to want her to be mine, as well.
“When did you get so pathetic?”
The lamp goes out in a buzz of static.
Picking my phone up off the table beside me and type out a text.
I’m desperate to see you. The conservatory tonight?
No. I delete the message. Desperate? That doesn’t sound right. Even though I am. I can’t let her know that, though. It doesn’t serve my purpose.
The conservatory tonight. Wear something I’ll like.
Ah, better.
That sounds more in control, more like me.
I rub my hands along my jaw, trying to ease the tension there. I’m thinking about taking a cold shower to clear my mind when—
Knock, knock.
The sound echoes through my quiet room.
I frown. Cedric wouldn’t be back from class yet, and he wouldn’t knock either. Who in their right mind would come and knock at my door in the middle of the day?
I ignore it.
Knock, knock.
Persistent, are we? It’s most definitely not a nun, since only boys are allowed in this Dormitory. Which means it has to be somebody else that lives here. It could be Max or Alistair. But it’s weird of them not to call or text me first.
I stand slowly, rolling my shoulders back as I cross the room.
“Whatever you want it better be worth interr—”
It’s not Max or Alistair.
It is Lucian fucking Beaumont.
He’s standing there, shoulders squared, eyes dark with something I have an intimate relationship with—rage. It’s not the kind that flares up and burns out. No, the kind that smolders. The kind that waits. Whatever he’s here for, it’s been pent up for a while.
I’m sure I know what this is about.
And I’m tired of it, actually. But I play along.
“To what do I owe this pleasure,” I say in amusement.
I lean against the doorframe for a bit, but then I straighten. He’s taller than me. Leaning makes me seem much shorter than him. I’m not—maybe one or two inches.
Lucian doesn’t speak, just staring at me with that inferno burning in his eyes.
I look down at my watch. “I don’t have all day, Beaumont.”
Finally, he exhales sharply, his lips curling into a snarl.
I’ve never seen him like this. It’s almost charming. I’d love to know what’s changed for him to think he can get what he wants by confronting me like this. Oh wait, I already know.
“Let her go.”
I laugh, slowly. There it is. “Ah, so that’s what this is about?”
Lucian’s vibrating with tension and thinly concealed rage at this point. I tilt my head. He’s on the edge. So close to blowing the lid, to exploding.
“Eden belongs to me.”
Pressure keeps building. “She’s not a possession for you to own.”
I take a step forward, closing the space between us. “And yet, here you are, confronting me in my own fucking dorm room, like she belongs to you.”
“Peregrine-Ashford, I know what you are.” His voice is a low growl hidden beneath a huff. “You’re a sickness.”
I laugh, feigning boredom.
Lucian is looking at me like he’s already imagined a dozen ways to kill me. I don’t flinch. He doesn’t have it in him. Not after what happened by the lake. There’s no way he’ll be able to separate us. For all his rage, all his anger, he’s too late.
“You’re—”
Lucian’s fist connects with my face suddenly. Like a crack of thunder, my whole face vibrates with pain. I stumble backwards, my eyes watering.
What the fuck?
Lucian charges into my room, close behind me. His eyes are a flame, his fist already clenched for another blow. Was he holding back the last time we fought? His punches hurt more than I’d like them to.
“It’s because you’re too weak.”
The last thing I need is The Spirit in my head, fucking things up. I force my mind to the present, blocking Lucian’s blow with my arms as I try to get up on my feet. When I’ve found my footing, I launch myself at him, fists flying.
It’s a sloppy fight.
We’re locked in a vicious struggle, crashing into furniture. Lucian’s punches are connecting with my face, my throat, the center of my chest, whereas mine don’t seem to be fazing him as much. He’s driven by something more intense than what I’ve ever felt.
I won’t let him win. I can’t.
But before I can even finish the thought, Lucian knees me in the stomach so hard it feels like I’m about to lose my breakfast. I fall to the ground, covering my face as he kicks and stomps. I’m angry, I’m upset—he fucking ambushed me.
I’m bleeding.
I’m bruised.
My whole body hurts, my face numb, pain zagging through every vein in my body. He grabs me by the shirt, pulling me up just enough off the ground to spit in my face. Then he lets me fall to the ground.
He may have the physical advantage now, but—
“You’re too late.”
He looks puzzled. “Did my fists not do enough talking?” he rages. “I’ll beat your ass every single fucking day until you leave her alone. And if I get too bored, I’ll kill you.”
A credible threat.
“What makes you think you have any right to interfere with things between me and my fiancée?” My voice is venomous.
His face goes white.
I wipe his spit from my face, pushing myself up on my elbows. There’s blood on his shirt, and a few bruises here and there on his face. I can only imagine what I look like.
“What, you didn’t know?”
His eyes are wide with shock.
“She told me that she was still going to marry you.” He balls his fists. “But I didn’t know she’d already said yes to…”
“You poor thing. Did Eden make you think you had a chance?” I stumble to my feet. “You think you can just waltz in here and start throwing punches to get what you want? News flash, dumbass, Eden wants this more than she’s letting on.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I proposed to her yesterday, and she said yes.”
I can see the moment his pathetic heart breaks.
It’s a sight to behold. I commit it to memory, and I plan to replay it for as long as I can remember.
As a matter of fact, I might just send him a postcard from our honeymoon—reminding him that I’m fucking the only girl he’s ever wanted, and the one he’ll never get.
“You’re lying.”
My laugh fills the room; it’s maniacal, reverberating through every part of my body. “You fucking fool. There’s nothing you can do now.”
Fire’s still in his eyes.
But something else is too—betrayal.
He shoves his hands in his pockets, turning his back and walking toward the door. “I’m still going to ruin your life, Peregrine-Ashford. But now, you’ve just made it a million times worse for yourself.”
Then he’s gone.
As if I give a fuck.
But as Lucian leaves the room, I find that I’ve used up the last bit of my strength on goading him. I flop backwards onto the floor, but I still have enough to take my phone out of my pocket. I need to know what the fuck this was about.
We need to talk. Come to the steps of the boys’ Dormitory in an hour.
That will give me enough time to get cleaned up and make myself presentable. My phone chimes a few moments after. I squint my eyes, bringing the phone up to see the response. I already know what I’m going to see.
Anastazya:
Of course.