Chapter 15 Giving a Damn #3
What do I do here? I shrug, attempting nonchalance, and struggle for the right lie, mind filled with images of the dark prince, those sultry lips, that aggravatingly coy smirk. “Well … I mean … we’re still figuring it out—”
“It’s okay.” He smiles, yet there’s no crinkle to his eyes, no joy. “I can see how you feel about him written all over your face. No need to explain it to me.”
But I want to. Some stupid part of me longs to leave this door open. But … that’s not the deal I made. “You could invite him, next time, if you’d like to?”
The idea of Draven hanging out with my friends feels odd, like bringing a dragon home for dinner. His presence is so big. I brace myself against the wall, using it for support. I hiccup. “Maybe he’ll want to come next time. I’ll ask, if he’s home.”
Wynter grimaces as he hangs back, like not escorting me fights against his better judgment. “Well, it’s not far, so if you’re sure you don’t need me, I’ll head in. Try to get some sleep.”
I give him a sloppy salute and make my way down the steps. I lope off, everything hazy, and round a large maple tree before realizing nothing is familiar. I’ve seen this tree, but not in this direction.
Concealed beneath its shadows, Morgan and Kasper heatedly whisper to each other. If I hide now, I’ll make even more noise, though I sway on the spot. I bend down, holding my laces, keeping as still as possible, despite my vision rocking, head swaying.
“It’s not that I don’t agree with the sentiment, but the planning is idiotic at best,” Kasper hisses. “I already spent a night in the damn Boiler. I don’t want any part of it.”
I forgot he and Morgan spent a night in the sweltering detention hall for being too close when that assassination attempt against Draven went down. They’ve never brought it up, at least not with me.
“We could use you,” Morgan growls.
“And Rune? You think that’s wise?” Kasper’s voice drops on my name. I strain to hear, my body swaying in the wind.
“She’s the key—” But Morgan stops himself as I tip over, catching myself on a branch. A rookie mistake but I’m too gone to have prevented it. They both turn to me.
“Hellooooo, boys.” I stand and hitch a smile to my lips and point to the tree. “Did this move?”
“You’re going the wrong way. Turn around.” Kasper speeds off down the Oval toward his own Hearth, jogging a bit to catch up with the others. Felix and Amaya have their arms linked and are singing some bawdy song far down the walkway. Across the Oval, Cleona escorts Ember back to the Star.
“I don’t think you were going the wrong way.” Morgan watches me, his body still in the dark beneath this tree. “My Hearth is right here.”
It suddenly occurs to me how far everyone else is from us.
“I need to get to sleep,” I say quickly, but he strides over and scoops his arm beneath mine anyway.
He tugs me back, but I push toward the World.
I need home. Well, not home … but my Hearth.
Morgan relents, heading with me in the right direction, but his grip is still too firm.
I try to pull my arm loose and again the pervasive thought of I’m too drunk unhelpfully enters my mind.
I’m seeing double of him. He twinkles in and out of focus. I both don’t like and don’t trust the lava-cursed boy anymore. What was he stopped from saying just now? She’s the key—to what exactly?
My hand moves toward my tarot box, wondering if I can draw my cards, but nothing arises. His hand curls over mine possessively.
“You sure you wouldn’t rather come back to the Moon’s Hearth? I can take better care of you there,” he offers. I’d rather do most anything than go home with him.
If I were sober, I’d have him lying flat on his ass in a few swift moves, but with this much alcohol, I’m not as sure of myself. What was he in the Ten Spires Clan? A thief? Muscle? Something worse?
“I didn’t know you and Kasper were close.” My observation is too heavy-handed. It’s clear by the narrowing of his dark brows as he looks down at me.
“We have similar feelings about the immortals.” His hand curls to a fist. “I think you’d understand that.”
“Well, you’re one of them now.” It makes me sound like Draven.
“You know, you could use that pretty face of yours, and the prince’s thirst for you, to our advantage. Manipulate him to release some of us from this place—imagine having this power in the mortal realm. We’d be gods.” He grins at the thought, though the idea falls flat with me.
Alarm gnaws at my gut, thinking about how to get out of this.
“It’s the least they could do, for taking us away. The arrogance of the Selection. Give us these powers and then expect us to play good little servants—”
“I’m glad I was Selected,” I say, tingeing my voice with ice.
Morgan’s expression pinches, like he’s disappointed. “Still, we should stick together.” He pulls me so tightly against him it hurts, his nose nuzzling my neck. “Come back to my room with me.”
I pull away. “I’m pretty sure my mate would notice if I didn’t return.” My heart is pounding hard enough that my head clears. Some men really don’t like hearing the word no. And I want to remind him someone more powerful than me will notice my absence.
“Him.” Morgan’s tone sours steeply. As we reach the steps to my Hearth, he glares as if it holds a monster in the darkness of its halls. “You never answered my question. If you could sleep with anyone here, who would you choose?”
I yank my hand from his, glad to be in the shadow of my building now. I don’t like the possessive way he’s watching me, as though I belong to him. The campus is too dark. The house behind me quiet. Where are you, Draven?
“Answer the question, Rune.”
“Not you,” I spit. He lunges for the tarot cards on my belt, and I manage to summon the World and Strength, leaning out of reach as he swipes at the wind an inch from my throat.
I sweep under his open arm and throw him over my shoulder, his weight shockingly light with magic running through my muscles.
He slams to the ground in a heap. The Strength Arcana helps me, but I’m sloppier than usual.
I barely disentangle before I heave up my drinks on all fours.
He crawls over to me, hand clawing up my cards, and he curses at the burn of the two in use.
Adrenaline hits—I need to get away—and I leave the cards, rushing toward the stairs, scrambling toward my Hearth.
Rune? I swear Draven’s voice has dropped into my mind, like he heard me. Is that panic in his voice or my heart halfway in my throat?
“You little bitch—” Morgan grabs for my ankle, and I kick him in the side of the face, staggering and running up the steps.
I need to put a lock between me and him.
I lunge for the door handle. Before I can reach, it swings wide and Draven’s standing there.
I duck under the prince’s arm and then turn back to the threat.
Morgan’s hand rests against the door just above Draven’s, his body still going through the motions of boxing me in. Morgan straightens in surprise.
Draven merely lifts his chin and stares down at him, looking him over slowly from head to toe.
“Can I help you?” Draven drawls.
Morgan takes a full step back, his hand releasing the door though I see some gouges across the wooden surface. My hair stands on end, my breaths not catching, as though my lungs are made of mesh. I bristle when I notice my cards in Morgan’s clutches.
“Rune and I were just having a conversation—” Morgan starts.
“I think running away implies it’s over, don’t you?” Draven snaps his fingers and the World and the Emperor rise into his hand in an instant, their golden light blinding as he summons my tarot deck straight out of Morgan’s grasp. “This doesn’t belong to you.”
Morgan chuffs as Draven hands it back to me. “Look, you got it all wrong—”
“I think I have it exactly right.”
Morgan scoffs at our positioning and I think he’s about to apologize, but then he deflects to something I’ve heard before. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little drunk.” His shoulders shrug casually, an invitation for Draven to relate as though this was some moment of weakness. Some male way of being.
“You say that as if it’s any excuse.”
Draven takes a step forward and Morgan retreats.
Shadows explode behind Draven’s back, framing his wings, blotting out the full moon until the night presses in from all sides.
A kingdom of darkness spreads across the front steps, seeping like tipped ink into the Oval.
As the Death Arcana he’s casting expands, the color of the world begins to change, to that grayscale hue between spaces, and my heart jolts.
Draven’s voice descends a few octaves, no longer his own. “You are a poor excuse for a man.”
“Wait, please!” Morgan’s shriek cuts against the night.
I race forward, my figure slicing through the darkness like a knife, my feet swift, my legs surprisingly sturdy considering all I’ve drank.
When I reach Draven’s side, his eyes glow like the pits of hells, crimson fire consuming everything as he looks down on Morgan crawling away.
Try not to stick your hand into a dragon’s mouth …
Damning his warnings and my common sense I slide my hand along Draven’s wrist ever so gently, careful not to touch his cards whirring with enchantments.
His attention shoots to me. The magic fetters out, like water thrown over a fire.
The darkness blows out into ash, clearing on the breeze.
Draven’s brow rises a bit at the touch of my hand against his bare wrist. I don’t remove it.
I want to make sure he’s still in control. He glares down Morgan.
“Come near her again and it’ll be the last thing you ever do. Now get out of my sight.” Draven waits until Morgan scrambles to his feet and runs across the lawns, sprinting toward the Moon’s Hearth.
I shadow Draven, the two of us standing in heated silence. I try to prepare myself for whatever he’s about to say, but it’s impossible to guess. Finally, I look up into his face, his eyes the faultless dark of gathering dusk.
“Thank you,” I manage.
“For what?” He shrugs, eyes locking with mine, a little smirk gathering in the corner of his lips.
I smile, relieved at his casualness. His tone is playful, but I’m not sure if he’s kidding as he adds, “I just did that for me. I love watching people squirm. Don’t go thinking I’m some knight in shining armor, Rune. You’ll be disappointed.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” I tell him with a small, uncertain laugh, crossing my arms, swaying slightly.
The adrenaline chased off my drunkenness but hasn’t left behind sobriety.
As the fear seeps out of me, my gut starts churning again.
He offers his hand. I don’t bat it away, allowing him to help me inside.
He stumbles slightly at the threshold.
“Are you all right?” The sudden possibility of him burning out hits me low in the gut.
“I’d have to push a lot harder than that.” He side-eyes me, clearly having read my thoughts, my mental shield suffering with so much alcohol. “Magic usage is like building a muscle. I’ve been lucky to have the greatest trainers the realm can afford. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
I stop short when I realize our Hearth is crowded with five or six people, all druids of upper years, all with wings.
We’ve never had anyone over before. Not that we’re a we, exactly.
I don’t know why the sudden appearance of his friends has made me nervous.
Draven ignores them all, leading me pointedly to my room, again stopping at the threshold, and I’m embarrassed there was an audience.
I stumble inside without him, my vision blurring, the drinks threatening to rise. Draven leans against the doorframe, keeping the door slightly ajar between us. His cunning gaze flits to every shadowed corner.
“I’m canceling your classes tomorrow.” He’s finally focused on me again.
My nausea reaches another high, yet I manage to give him an incredulous look.
He rolls his eyes, smirking in that seductive way of his.
“Don’t get insulted, I know you can handle yourself.
If you really want to go, then feel free.
But if you want to know where I go every morning, then tomorrow, I’ll take you.
Hopefully you get the alcohol out of your system before that, one way or another. ”
I hesitate, pretty sure it’s about to come out the same way it went in.
“What about … Morgan?” I shift on my feet.
“He’ll pay for what he’s done.” Draven’s gaze is so severe there’s no escaping it. I notice his friends go quiet, and his wings arc higher, the light from the living space all but blotted out. I hate the way Morgan made me feel. Shame and rage in equal measure heat my cheeks.
It’s only then I realize my whole body is trembling.
I don’t want to sit in the silence of this dark empty room.
Lying in that large bed with my serrated thoughts sounds like a nightmare.
As I look up into Draven’s beautiful face, I nearly plead with him to stay, just until the sun rises.
I want him to talk to me until the night bleeds, for his snarky, bratty company to distract me from this horrible night.
It’s not that I need a guard as much as I really don’t want to be alone right now.
It took until now to realize how much I trust him.
The intensity of his gaze sharpens. Is it stupid for me to want him to dismiss his friends?
“Draven, are we continuing?” An alluring feminine voice calls to his back and he rolls his eyes at her voice, still facing me.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I tell Draven quickly, not letting myself entertain that weakness a moment longer. He straightens up, backing out of the doorway, hands in his pockets.
I shut the door and hear his friends’ voices rise in the living room as I collapse face down into bed. It sounds like they’re teasing him, but I hear only his response clearly: “Meeting’s over. Get out.”