Chapter 19 Then…
Then…
Dominic was coming back from the gym when he heard the noise.
He paused, adjusting the gym bag slung over his shoulder.
Heavy music spilled from the castle sitting room, accompanied by laughter and the clink of glasses.
He glanced at his watch. Almost midnight.
During his two weeks at the academy, he’d learned that the older students were largely left to govern themselves, but it was a Tuesday.
Still.
Not his business.
Dominic turned. He was about to make his way back to his studio flat to whip up a late-night omelet when a loud voice caught his attention. High. Lilting. Even if Dominic hadn’t known her voice immediately, it would have been easy to identify her: She was the only female driver at the academy.
“—fuck off, I said no.”
“You’re being boring,” a male voice said. Nate, Dominic guessed: one of the more promising racers, and Juliette’s ex-boyfriend, if the academy rumor mill was to be believed. Although again. Not his business.
Juliette scoffed. “Sod off.”
“Come on,” Nate said. “One more.”
Juliette said something else in a low tone, and Dominic tensed.
Her voice sounded off somehow. Had she been drinking?
Not my business, he thought firmly, but he was already drifting closer to the door, peering through the crack.
Juliette lay on a couch. The table was littered with empty beer cans and ping-pong balls.
Several boys stood over her, including Nate, who was—
He stiffened.
Who was holding a bottle of vodka over her mouth.
Nate grabbed her chin. Juliette shoved him with a surprising amount of force for someone who was clearly inebriated. “Get off me.”
“Don’t worry.” Nate unscrewed the lid. “You’ll like it.”
“I’m serious.” Juliette struggled to sit. “Get away from—”
“Is there a problem here?”
Dominic hadn’t realized he was speaking until ten people turned to face him. The vodka bottle disappeared behind Nate’s back, and he felt a vicious rush of satisfaction. Good. Let him sweat.
Nate cleared his throat. “We were just…” He gestured weakly to a beer. “Did you want a drink?”
Dominic leveled him with a look. “Party’s over. Marchmont.” He gestured for her to get up. “You’re coming with me.”
Nate stepped forward. “We can look after her.” He paused, just long enough to make it condescending. “Sir.”
Dominic surveyed him. Nate was about his age, if he had to guess, which was just as well. He didn’t make a habit of fighting underage students. And if that vodka bottle went anywhere near Juliette’s mouth again…
Dominic leaned against the mantel. “You know what I got Cap for his birthday? A set of Japanese cooking knives.” He had the sense that his teammate had been pleasantly baffled by the gift, as if Dominic had presented him with a book written entirely in ancient Greek, but never mind.
Not the point. “He’s a real budding chef.
Of course, he doesn’t use the knives often, but if he was to discover that a group of young men had gotten his sister drunk and taken advantage of her…
” Several men paled. Dominic’s smile was pleasant. “Any more objections?”
Silence filled the room.
“Good,” Dominic said breezily. “That’s what I thought.” He hoisted his gym bag, turning to Juliette. “Let’s go.”
She frowned. For a moment Dominic thought she might argue, but she surprised him by walking with what appeared to be deliberate carefulness. It was only when they were a safe distance down the corridor that Juliette spoke.
“I had that handled.”
“I know,” Dominic said, and he meant it. For someone who had ingested a healthy measure of vodka, Marchmont was surprisingly good on her feet. Good at glaring at him too.
“I’m not that drunk.”
Dominic waited for her to go up the stairs first. You just never knew, he thought, when you’d have to catch an inebriated student. “That part I’m less sure about.” He paused at the top of the landing. “Which way is your room?”
Juliette’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Not suspicious. Just wary. He sighed.
“Because I’m planning to fill it with guinea pigs.” Her expression didn’t change, and Dominic shook his head. “For god’s sake, Marchmont, because I’m walking you there.”
Juliette’s frown deepened. “I can find my way to my own—” Her face changed. “Oh, shit.”
She lunged for a flowerpot. It was only through years of reflex training, Dominic assumed, that she could reach it in time.
Still. She was faster than he would have been, and that alone was enough to mildly impress him.
He averted his eyes as she retched, although it didn’t bother him; you saw plenty of vomiting when you drove for two hours in blistering heat for a living.
“Feel better?” he asked politely.
Juliette wiped her mouth. “Hang on. I need to sit down.”
She slumped down on the wall. Dark strands stuck to her face, and her eyes had a slightly glazed quality. Dominic grimaced. She was clearly in no state to walk, which left only one option.
“Stay still,” he warned.
Juliette eyed him warily. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to carry you.”
Juliette shook her head. “I can do it.”
He seriously doubted that. But to her credit she climbed to her feet, and for a moment it looked like she might be okay.
Then Juliette staggered, almost colliding with the wall, and his hand shot out to steady her.
Her skin was clammy and her throat worked, as if she was trying to stop herself from being sick.
Yeah.
Time to abandon ship.
Dominic scooped her up, ignoring her protests as he started down the corridor. Juliette mumbled something, and he leaned closer.
“What was that?”
Juliette enunciated the words with slow precision. “Thought you didn’t know which way my room was.”
Ah, Dominic thought. How to explain that when the fire alarm went off three nights ago, he’d had visions of the female dormitory burning to the ground because nobody had bothered to check the sensor since the last occupant. Which was—oh, wait—never.
“Well, I—”
“Wait.” Juliette held up a hand. “I’m going to be sick again.”
You really did have to admire the athletic speed, he thought.
As soon as he put Juliette down, she was on her knees, eyes watering as she retched.
He didn’t have sisters, but he’d seen enough films to know what to do, and he held her hair back until she was done.
It was only when he reached for her that Juliette took a step back.
“What are you doing?”
Dominic blinked. Surely she wasn’t that drunk. “We’re going to your room, remember?”
“I can’t leave it like this.”
Dominic looked down. It was a not-very-nice-looking puddle, which he suspected the cleaners would not appreciate on a Wednesday morning, so maybe she had a point. But even so…“I’ll come back.”
“I need to clean it,” Juliette said. “I’ll get some kitchen roll.”
She tottered down the corridor, using the wall for support.
Dominic ran a hand over his face. Damn it.
That wasn’t even the way to the kitchen.
He had a sudden vision of Juliette tumbling down the stairs, and a surge of frustration filled him.
He’d met stubborn people before, but Juliette Marchmont was a whole other breed.
She’d look at iron bars and be convinced that she could pry them apart with her bare hands.
“Wait!” Dominic called. “Stay here. I’ll get the kitchen roll.”
Mercifully, Juliette seemed to realize that it made more sense to send the person who could stand, and she made a noise of sleepy acquiescence.
Dominic strode toward the kitchen. Admittedly, nobody had warned him about this part of the gig.
When he’d reached out to the academy, he’d imagined early morning reflex drills.
Not busting parties and scrubbing sick off a carpet.
Still.
He’d known that the students at Taurus would be talented, but Marchmont was something else.
Her determination, her thirst for knowledge, her natural instinct on track…
She was going to be one hell of a racer.
And yes, he’d come to the academy for what Liêm had cheerfully called his “fucked-up pilgrimage to atone for being a nepo baby,” but he hadn’t expected to find this.
To find her. He might have come to give the rookies the same leg up that he’d had, but so far she’d been his reason to stay.
God, she didn’t even know how good she was, did she?
Dominic paused in the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards until he was armed with kitchen roll, lemon-scented cleaner, water, and a sports drink. When he returned, Juliette was sitting with her head tipped back against the wall. She appeared to be unconscious, sleeping, or somewhere in between.
And she wasn’t alone.
Dominic slowed. Someone with a head of bleach-blond hair crouched beside Juliette. He was cupping her face, and there was something about his body language that made Dominic think of a lion guarding its kill. Something hungry and possessive.
Dominic cleared his throat. Frederick looked up.
“Sir. I was just—”
Dominic’s voice was pleasant. “I’m only going to say this once. Take your hands off her.”
Frederick smirked, which, in Dominic’s opinion, indicated a remarkable lack of self-preservation. “Relax, mate. I’m not doing anything.”
Dominic crossed his arms. “The floor’s already a mess, mate.” His smile was pointed. “I wouldn’t want to add to the problem.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Oh, very,” Dominic said. “Blood’s a real pain to get out of the carpet. Requires lots of water and vinegar.”
His voice was mild, but something hot burned in his chest. Anger, he realized with some surprise.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cared about anyone apart from Liêm, and that had taken a decade of forced proximity.
Unfortunately, it had the effect of making him want to kick Von Galen’s face in, which was—and this was just a guess—probably not something the academy would condone.
He lowered his voice. “Go.”