Chapter 13 #2
Trysten crosses his arms first, then his ankles. “I was rescuing you. Or maybe them. You looked seconds away from eating them alive.” There’s a spirited glint in his eyes, daring me to challenge him.
I let my false swagger rise as I take a step toward him. “I didn’t need saving,” I chuckle. “Maybe...” I take another step. “I just wanted to watch him beg.” Lies. The words taste like ash on my tongue.
Trysten studies me intently for a moment, his gaze unwavering, before he responds, “Unlikely.” He lifts a brow in response, waiting for me to argue.
Instead of rising to the bait, I find something curious about his demeanor—an openness I’ve never seen before.
His features soften. “Come sit with me. I’ll fill you in on all you need to know for the test.”
I crumble, revealing the swirling storm of emotions. His eyes gleam with genuine empathy, and I can’t help but reflect on how different he is. Then again, I’ve made the same mistake judging Anders, too.
I’m so tired of this game, the tumult of hormones, and the intensity of all these Bonds. What I wouldn’t give to go back to the time when school consisted of learning and easy friendships.
“Okay,” I reply quietly. A small but genuine smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He opens the door, the quiet calm instantly dissipating in the loud chatter filling the hall. He gestures for me to enter first, and I mutter a quick, “Thanks.”
I hesitate inside the doors, half-expecting him to lead us to the open seats beside Anders. Instead, he guides me up the steps to the top of the hall, to a pair of secluded seats away from prying eyes.
My friends exchange puzzled glances as their eyes bounce between Trysten and me.
I can feel their curiosity even from up here.
Though Trysten and I haven’t had many conversations, I’m glad he’s my division leader.
He shares a brief, meaningful look with Anders, a silent communication of intent, before settling in beside me.
The classroom door swings open, allowing Professor Brendn to stride in.
He’s one of my favorite professors despite his lack of practiced manners.
Trysten fills in any gaps with his insights and experience as Professor Brendn explains that we are expected to fly to other planets, racing against transport teams.
There are twenty-one teams among the juniors, and each team will be assigned a senior to assist and guide us throughout the test.
Trysten doesn’t hold back when it comes to gloating about his team’s victory last year.
Over the next few weeks, we’ll engage in rigorous training sessions focusing on launching and landing, alongside logging hours in the simulator, which will allow us to practice in various weather scenarios.
We’ll receive our senior assignments a day before the mission. For now, Ciara, Tate, and I need to hone our skills because I plan on winning.
We have one month between me and my first off-planet mission, and the bubbling excitement feels like I am going to burst. By the end of class, I’ve warmed up to the division leader and given him my gratitude before rushing down the steps to meet with Ciara and Tate.
“Let’s go, Raea. Right now,” Anders demands, his voice cutting through the background chatter, pulling me from my thoughts as I finish the last bite of my stew. The energy in the air pricks the edges of my senses.
Gods, what now?
Here we go with his demands. I take a deep breath and set my spoon down, carefully patting my lips with the linen napkin.
“Excuse me, are you speaking to me?” I reply with a playful lilt, my eyes drifting across the table to Ciara, who’s stifling her laughter behind her hand.
It’s a struggle not to smile, especially when the banter between us gives me a rush.
“Raea,” he growls, his voice dropping to a low, rich timbre that sends a delicious heat blooming along my spine.
I feel my posture tense for a fraction of a second, my heart skipping a beat, before I compose myself. With determination, I rise from the table, deliberately avoiding his piercing gaze.
I turn toward Ciara once more, saying my goodbyes, and catch her studying us both. There’s a hint of concern etched onto her face, and I can’t quite figure out whether it’s for my well-being or his. My lips tilt in amusement, making her features soften.
With a deep inhale, I turn to face the prince, crossing my arms and giving him a questioning look as I wait.
He gently places a hand on the small of my back, shifting the atmosphere and sending my world sideways for a moment.
He leads the way back to the dorms, the cool evening air brushing against my heated skin as we cross the bridge.
When we arrive at the basement gym, I almost chuckle.
The space is open and, at this hour, is wonderfully deserted.
The soft hum of the lights overhead fills the silence.
Recently, I’ve taken to establishing a routine in the early mornings, learning how to use every single machine here. If Anders knows, I’m unaware.
“Seriously?” I chuckle. “We’re having our meeting here?”
His responding chuckle feels dark. “Oh, no. That’s later. No, you’re going to show me you know how to defend yourself. One attacker—me.”
My stomach knots. “I just ate?” I respond like a question because, honestly, I’m just grasping for an excuse.
And I don’t mention that I’m wearing a low-plunging gown.
The thought of him touching me anywhere in this gown has my skin heating.
The luxurious green fabric caresses my skin, and I can’t help but smile at how well it shows off my figure, even if it’s entirely impractical for whatever he has planned.
He snorts, his eyes glinting with mischief, unfazed by both my attire and the recent dinner still making its way to my stomach.
He rolls up the sleeves of his fitted shirt, revealing strong forearms. “Then I guess we will see if you can hold it down or if you’ll be running for the can in the corner of the room. ” His challenge hangs in the air.
Part of me wants to push him on his sorry ass and storm out of here. But as I stand here, a heavy tension builds between us, something far more dangerous than anger.
Without warning, he grips my wrist. The sudden touch sends a rush of energy through me as he activates my energy shield from the gold band on my wrist. The sensation envelops me in a whirlwind of emotions. My knees feel wobbly as I lean into him.
“Is this some sort of punishment because of the other night?” I argue, gaining my stability.
He doesn’t answer, his attention shifting as he strides toward the wall lined with various weapons.
As he saunters past the weapons rack, he pauses before a wall lined with shelves.
My breath catches at the sight of him reaching for something on the high shelf, muscles taut and on display.
He turns, catching my wandering gaze, and smirks.
“Are you going to keep staring at my ass, or are you going to follow?” he questions from across the room.
My eyes narrow into slits as I groan and follow after him. He turns toward me, brandishing a roll of black wrap.
“I can wrap your hands, or you can do it yourself,” he challenges, stirring something very inappropriate deep within me.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Suddenly, the air feels thick with desire, and it dawns on me that we’re both teetering on the edge, waiting to see who will break first.
My mouth feels as dry as the deserts of Mori.
There’s a part of me that almost wants to let him wrap my hands.
I want to experience that rush, that exhilaration of feeling alive, to feel his warm hands on me.
But my rational side reminds me just how lightheaded he makes me feel.
I quickly snatch the binding from his grip, cautiously avoiding his touch.
“In need of letting off some steam?” I taunt, wrapping my knuckles just as Ezra taught me. When I glance back up at Anders, the intense glare he’s giving me could rival the heat of the seven suns—and not in a good way.
Shit. He’s really pissed.
Without a single word, he yanks the roll of tape from my hands, putting it back on the shelf, all while keeping his eyes locked on me. I carefully tug at the material of my gown, feeling so damn hot. Silently, he strides over to the mat.
“We’re going to see how much of your training you can put to use. I’m not going to hold back. You’re going to fight me off. Got it? Since you’re so godsdamned determined to ignore me and my help, and there’s more men trying to get into your skirts everyday, show me you can protect yourself.”
Oh. That’s what this is about, then? “Is this about divisions with Jensn or my, what did you call them? Enemies?”
He falls silent for a moment, letting the tension between us build to an all-time high. With a sharp intake of air, he closes the gap between us, his height towering over me, forcing me to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact, our gazes locked.
“All of the above, Raea,” he snaps, his composure shattering like glass, revealing a rush of fierce emotion.
“Your father has upset some people. There are plenty of people who’d rather see you pay for your father’s actions.
And do not think for a single second that I do not notice how many men have let their eyes wander. ”
To make his point, his eyes cascade down my chest, down the entire length of my body, and back up, heating before his eyes return to mine.
He swallows thickly before muttering with strain, “I see how they look at you. Like you’re theirs for the taking.
Like they’ve already imagined you beneath them, your hair tangled in their hands.
” My breath catches, and my thighs clench together.
Nobody—and I mean nobody—has ever made me feel so desired while also punishing me over it.