Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
A hand on my sleeve stops me. “Whoa, hold up.” Olive regards me with pinched brows. “Remember, that’s the guy you were all torn up about less than eight hours ago. Now you’re going to walk right up to him? And say what? If anything, that alicorn’s ass should come to you begging for a second chance.” Olive eases me back.
Nick leans closer, confusion on his face. “What alicorn’s ass? What did I miss?”
Olive slaps her hand on his chest and shoves. “Go away. This is girl talk. Go find someone to dance with.”
She drags me a few steps away, putting a safe distance between us and our Nick’s curious ears. “Thorne’s still staring.”
I train my gaze on the opposite end of the ballroom. “Is Celeste Dawson still draping herself over him like a wet blanket?”
Olive shakes her head. “No. She keeps touching his hand, but he’s not even looking at her.”
The hot ember of jealousy burns in my chest. Ridiculous, because I have no claim to him, but my logic always flies out the window whenever he’s involved.
A cute guy with curly brown hair and hazel eyes approaches Olive and smiles. His gold emblem marks him as a dragonrider. “Would you like to dance?”
Olive hesitates, biting her lip. “Thanks, but I’m hanging out with?—”
“Go. Dance. I’ll be fine. I need a few moments alone to think, anyway.”
After another half-hearted protest, Olive takes the rider’s hand, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
I wave her off, happy at least one of us gets to enjoy the party. They join the other couples and glide across the floor. Olive’s smile lights up her face as she spins beneath his hand.
My skin prickles with awareness again, and I search the sea of faces until I find Thorne’s. When his gaze latches onto mine, I suck in a breath. All my feelings for him surface, and the onslaught has me battling the urge to approach him.
As I move in his direction, his cruel words from last night echo in my head. I freeze. What am I doing? This is madness. He made his feelings—or lack thereof—perfectly clear.
All of a sudden, my head spins. The room turns claustrophobic. There are a lot more people here than just Flighthaven attendees and instructors. The loud music and laughter seem ill-fitting for the situation. Every year, people get injured and die in the trial, yet here we are, acting like it’s cause for celebration. My spine tingles. I don’t know if it’s paranoia or if people truly are watching me, but I sense eyes on me from all directions. Even if Thorne hadn’t behaved like a prick, the last thing I need to do is risk a scene.
Couples dance by, blocking him from view. When visibility returns, Celeste has her dainty hand on his forearm. While his head is cocked toward her like he’s listening to her words, his eyes stay fixed on me.
I press my hand to my chest. My inhalations grow shallow. Breathing becomes difficult. Too much noise, too much perfume, too many invisible threats. Far too many intimate memories of Thorne taunting me.
Sensing my hesitation, Thorne shakes Celeste’s hand off his sleeve and steps toward me. My heart lodges in my throat. Whirling, I take off in the other direction. I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I need to escape this ballroom. Escape his presence, which tortures me with regrets and threatens to stop my lungs from functioning properly.
I aim for the nearest exit. The crowd thins the closer I get to the open door. I pass a group of fledglings drinking mead and a couple locked in an embrace in the shadowy corner. By the time I burst into a hall, my lungs and eyes burn. My nose too. I can’t fall apart here, though, not out in the open where anyone could witness my breakdown. I need privacy to screw my head on straight and lick my wounds.
I try the first door I pass. Locked. The next one’s locked as well. I keep trying until, finally, a doorknob turns, and I slip inside a salon-like room. A single lantern provides minimal light, just enough for me to declare the space empty and to avoid collisions with the furniture. There’s a fireplace, overstuffed sofas, and bookshelves crammed full of books. There’s a large desk that appears unused.
I reach the desk first and trace the wood grain with my fingers. I’m still catching my breath when the door squeaks open. I know who the intruder is without turning around. “Why did you follow me?”
His quiet footsteps whisper across the floor until he’s standing behind me. His body heat engulfs me, and his breath flutters the loose hairs on the nape of my neck. “I told you why yesterday. You’re my obsession. After you left last night, I couldn’t sleep. All I could remember was your taste and how beautiful you look when you’re moaning my name.”
My heart lurches before squeezing into a tiny ball. I brace my palms on the desk, inhaling through my nose. It’s either that or spin around and throat-punch him. “You have some nerve. You said this was just a fling. You told me we were nothing. You told me to leave Flighthaven. So let me return the favor…leave and return to your pretty blonde advanced battle maneuvers instructor, your alicorns, to literally anyone else. I don’t care where you go as long as you leave me alone.”
Of course, Professor Contrary does the exact opposite. Instead of walking away, he comes closer, crowding me until he has my stomach pressed against the desk and his body plastered to my back. “But you didn’t listen, did you? You didn’t go.” Frustration laces his words, but then his voice softens. “You didn’t go, and now it’s too late. You’re stuck here. We’re both trapped, and as long as that’s true, I plan to enjoy the one good thing in this godsforsaken place. And that’s you.”
“Fuck you.” My voice quakes. “I hate you.”
“Good. You should hate me. But you want me too.”
His lips graze the nape of my neck, and a shiver ripples through me. His hands circle my waist and slowly slide up my ribs. When he reaches the underside of my breasts, he pauses, giving me plenty of time to protest or push him away. I should. I know I should. But my heart and body are ganging up on my mind. Two against one’s not a fair match. And what’s the point of resisting, anyway? My life is a shit show. I might die in the trail tomorrow. Hells, I could die tonight. For all I know, more assassins are after me, and the king might want me dead. Elijah or one of his pals could come for me in the middle of the night and slit my throat in my sleep.
Basically, everything is chaos right now and there are no guarantees. Is it so wrong to enjoy the moment while I can?
When I don’t tell him to stop, his hands continue their leisurely journey upward until they’re cupping my breasts. Over the flimsy fabric of my gown, he brushes my nipples with his thumbs. When I arch into his touch, he groans and rolls them into hard points between his thumb and finger, shooting a bolt of need straight to my core.
I offer a weak protest. “Someone might come in. “
“They won’t. I locked the door.” He slides my left sleeve down my arm and slips his hand beneath my bodice. At the feel of his warm, calloused fingers on my naked skin, my legs tremble. “Turn your head and give me your lips.”
I do as he asks, and his hot mouth devours mine. Kissing him is like nothing else in this world. He owns my senses. Possesses me. I can’t get enough. I could kiss him for hours. Days. A lifetime. But I know better now. We only have this moment in time to share, and I’m going to milk it for all it’s worth.
He breaks off the kiss. I whimper in protest. “Shh,” he whispers. “Patience.”
Silk rustles, and then a draft hits my ankles…my calves. I feel him slip the fabric upward over my knees and thighs. He pauses. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll do what you asked earlier. I’ll walk away. It will kill me, but I’ll do it.”
The moment of truth has arrived, except I’ve already made my decision. I don’t know what his true feelings are for me. I’m almost positive he lied when he said he didn’t care and that some convoluted logic convinced him of the rightness of sending me away. Or maybe that’s just a fantasy and I should take his words at face value. I can’t know what’s in his heart. I only know what’s in mine. Despite his abhorrent behavior yesterday, I love him, and this is very likely our last chance to be together. Maybe that proves I’m weak but whatever. When everything’s said and done, I think not following my heart would be my biggest regret.
“Stay.”