Chapter VII #2
So I’m shocked to see him standing at the steps of the Girls’ Dormitory. He’s holding an umbrella, one hand in the pocket of his tailored slacks, his bag slung over one shoulder. It’s drizzling lightly—I hadn’t even realized.
He notices me, and his face lights up.
Silas climbs the steps two at a time, using a hand to bring me closer to him beneath the umbrella. I’m wrapped in the warmth of his scent immediately, but up close I can see that my theory was right. There are old bruises on his face, and a split lip.
For a second, I relish in the fact that he knows what it feels like.
“What happened to your face?” I ask, mustering all the surprise I can.
Silas smiles. “Don’t worry about that, love.” We start descending the steps. “We haven’t seen each other in more than a day.” His eyes slide down to my hand and his smile gets brighter. “I think we have more important things to discuss than a few bruises.”
My heart stutters.
Is he being dismissive because I’ve worn his bruises before?
“Why didn’t you call?” The sharp edge of his question slices through the formality between us. The sound of the gentle rain on the umbrella punctuates the silence.
Ah, that’s the Silas I remember.
“I spent the day in bed,” I say simply.
He looks down at me, those ice blue eyes spearing me like a shard of ice. I feel the shift in his aura. “Why?”
A soft, innocent question.
But there’s a threat behind it.
“Because I felt like it.” I harden my gaze as much as I can.
He promised he would never put his hands on me again. That means I can express myself the way I would like—and after my heart-to-heart with Lucian, I realize how little I’ve told Silas about myself, how little I know about him.
“Still upset about Vivienne’s death?”
His gaze moves to somewhere ahead of us. His grip on my shoulders tightens uncomfortably.
“I’ll never not be upset.”
I try to pry his fingers from me, trying my best to be inconspicuous, as we’re walking among the throng of students heading to the dining hall for breakfast. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, they have their eyes on us.
They always have their eyes on us.
“Your grip is hurting me,” I finally say through teeth clenched in something that I hope looks like a smile. I look at him, and when he looks down—his eyes are afire.
“Eden Grace Lockhart,” he whispers. “You’re hurting me, too. Let’s call it even.”
“What are you talking about?”
Silas huffs, pulling me into the space between two statues in the courtyard. Relatively private, enough for our voices to be lost in the pit-patter of the rain and the chatter of the students passing by.
“Where did you spend the night before last?”
I freeze. “In bed,” I say. “Where else would I be?”
Silas leans down slightly, his eyes sliding over me with something that looks close to disdain. He grips my hand, the one with the huge rock. In one deft movement he spins the ring on my finger then closes my palm over the diamond.
“Lying is a sin, love,” Silas says.
He’s holding my hand so tightly that the diamond is digging into my palm—painfully. I try to wriggle out of his grasp, but it’s pointless because he’s so strong. The pain starts to travel up my arm.
I try to keep my voice even. “I forgave you once. Don’t think for a moment that I won’t give you back this ring and call off this engagement.”
He chuckles—low, menacing, deep.
“Would you, now?” He lets go of my hand, just to grab the column of my neck and pull me closer to him. “I doubt Viscountess Lockhart would be pleased.” He squeezes my neck. “I know you’re her biggest disappointment.”
He’s slowly cutting off my breath and he knows.
I know you’re her biggest disappointment.
My anger flares and I backhand Silas, using my engagement ring to draw blood from his lip. He stands there silent for a few seconds, looking at me, shocked. His fingers tighten around my neck, pulling me so close to him his minty breath ghosts over my face.
“I’m not certain what gave you false hope,” he hisses. “But you belong to me now, Eden. It’s too late to leave.”
Then he kisses me, bloody mouth and all. I’m caught in his grip, relying only on the air he’s breathing into my mouth as our lips move together. He bites my lip hard enough to bleed, and tears prick the corner of my eyes.
This is what I chose.
When we pull apart, I lick my lips of the copper. We leave the privacy of the statues, and the rain has started falling even harder. Silas holds my hand. To the unsuspecting eye, we must look like a happy couple.
“You know what else is a sin, Eden?”
I don’t even look at him. The silence stretches on until he cuts it with a sentence sharper than a knife, like a dagger through the heart.
“Cheating.”
I stay silent, and he falls silent too.
We walk to the dining hall together. Silas sequesters us at a table in his corner. His friends are seated elsewhere in the room. I see familiar faces but not the one I want to see—Lucian.
“I forgive you,” he says suddenly.
I almost choke on my orange juice. “For?”
“Your behavior earlier. I could’ve been gentler with you.” Then he turns to me, an earnest look in his eyes. And beyond the bruises, the slightly rain-soaked hair, I see the boy that captured my heart the moment our eyes met. “I love you, Eden, and I want to love you for the rest of my life.”
I smile, leaning against his shoulder. “I love you too.”
Dread builds in my stomach with each step I take.
My next class is English Literature—the class that brought Lucian and I together. I’m not sure what to say when I see him, or if he’ll want to talk to me. Nothing that comes to my mind makes sense, especially now that Silas and I are back on good terms.
That night with him was a mistake.
He said it himself—he doesn’t fool around with people in relationships.
If he regrets it, then so do I. Straightening my spine, I step into the classroom, prepared to ignore him, prepared to act like his tongue didn’t take me to the moon and back, like every other one of my thoughts aren’t about him.
The room hums with chatter and the shuffling of books. I slide into my usual seat. Lucian’s is empty—but he usually shows up a minute or two before class. But when Sister Hamilton appears with her books and chalk, I realize that he’s not going to show.
I’m cold, even though the classroom is warm.
I try not to look at the door.
I try not to wonder.
Sister Hamilton begins discussing the next text we’ll be dissecting.
Wuthering Heights, of all things.
Of course we’ll be reading about the most dysfunctional lovers in all of history. If I didn’t know better I’d think the Lord was making a mockery out of me. I thumb the golden cross around my neck: it still feels a little weird, but I’ve been so out of sorts lately.
Everything feels weird.
My pen taps rhythmically against my notebook as Sister Hamilton speaks. I’m trying to clear my mind, trying to focus, trying to immerse myself in the book—
Crash!
Glass explodes from one of the tall, arched windows, scattering across the floor in a rain of colored glass and murky sunlight.
The students skitter, some screaming. Some immediately start whispering about bombs.
I don’t move, even though a shard of glass scraped my cheek, and I look up to see that Sister Hamilton hasn’t either.
I’m oddly calm.
That’s when I turn to the shattered window.
It’s the one in my row, the one right beside where Lucian would have sat.
Yet, he’s standing outside the shattered window, a baseball bat in hand.
I blink rapidly, wiping the blood from my cheek. What is he doing? He looks completely different from the last time I saw him. Yes, he’s still dressed in all-black, yes his long hair is still shaggy—but his face?
I don’t recognize him.
Sunken eyes, pale skin.
A joint hanging from his lips.
He smokes to calm his anxiety, so that means…
“Lord Augustine-Beaumont!” Sister Hamilton exclaims, moving to the shattered window. “What is the meaning of this? You could have seriously hurt someone!”
Lucian looks terrifyingly composed, while my heart pounds like a wardrum. He lifts his gaze to me, and then he—smiles.
It’s not cruel.
It’s not gentle.
But, it’s deliberate and sends a shiver down my spine.
“I didn’t hurt anyone…seriously,” he replies to her, but his gaze is locked on me.
“You’ve defaced school property.”
He turns to look at her. “Then you’d better report it to the Headmaster, Tyne,” he sneers. His emerald gaze is back on me. “I just wanted to let you know that I wouldn’t be coming to class today.
“You didn’t have to break a window to do that.”
He shifts the bat to his other hand. “I know. But this was easier.” With each word, his gaze gets even sharper, something dangerous flashing in them the moment they land on the glistening diamond on my finger. I’ve never felt afraid of Lucian before.
Until now.
“Anyway, I have some reparations to collect.”
Then he turns, disappearing down the hall.
As Sister Hamilton tries to regain control of the class, I’m frozen in my seat.
When she leaves to fetch someone to clean up the broken shards of glass, that’s when it hits me. She called him Lord Augustine-Beaumont.
Lucian has a peerage.
And the school is named after him.