Chapter 82 Octavia
Octavia
The chair slows as we reach the top. We have been here in the Swiss Alps for several days now, and they have passed more smoothly than I would have expected.
Our days are spent on the slopes, hours slip by in the cold air, and our evenings ease into something almost domestic.
We cook—well, my sister cooks—or we order food, and then we simply exist in the same space.
Almost friendly, in a strange way.
It feels as though everyone has left their grudges somewhere behind us, and for a few days we are just… here.
Since that first night, when Markev and I shared a bed and he made me come six times on his tongue, he hasn’t touched me.
Well, that isn’t entirely true.
On the nights that followed, he did it again, and then again, intent on beating the number of orgasms he could pull from my body each night. But he hasn’t gone any further. He hasn’t tried for more.
And my mind, traitorous as it is, starts to wonder if he sees me for who I really am.
Tainted.
Or if he simply knows that I’m not ready yet.
The unsettling part is that I think I am starting to be.
I want more.
I want more, and the realisation troubles me because I shouldn’t.
Wanting him like this was never part of the plan. But I have already crossed that line once, betrayed myself in ways I can’t reverse, and I’m not sure what one more step would really change.
The bar lifts, my skis hit the snow, and I’m off before the seat has fully cleared.
I need the movement, anything to get out of my own head. I tend to lose myself in it, and it is not a pleasant place to be.
I don’t stop to admire the view. I tip forward and drop straight onto the black run, letting gravity take over.
The cold air tears at my face, and the mountain opens beneath me.
Adelaide drops in beside me on her board, fast and aggressive, cutting across the slope. Even through her mask, I can feel the glare she sends my way.
“Come on, Bellanti!” she shouts over the wind. “Try to keep up.”
I snort and lean harder into the turn. “Careful, cartel princess. Wouldn’t want you to face plant and embarrass yourself.”
She laughs, her competitive streak kicking in as she surges ahead. Isaak follows on his board.
I roll my eyes. Those two could turn breathing into a contest.
Piper glides up beside me. I grin at her. “Race you.”
She smiles sweetly. “If you want to end up like your sister last year, by all means.”
Then she’s gone.
Hunter somehow keeps pace with her, which makes absolutely no sense, considering Piper practically flies over snow, as though she were born on it.
Years of ice skating, I suppose.
She overtakes Adelaide and Isaak in seconds.
Figures.
I feel a presence at my side and glance over.
Markev.
It is just the two of us now. My sister stayed back with Arlo, who twisted his ankle heli-skiing the other day. Something is going on there, but I don’t press.
Not when I am hiding plenty myself.
He watches me intently.
“You’re going to break your legs if you don’t watch where you’re going,” I say.
Even through the mask, I swear I catch the smirk.
Because I am looking at him, I nearly miss the turn, correcting at the last second.
He growls, “Be more fucking careful.”
I ignore him, but the growl in his voice makes my pussy clench with need.
Markev and I are on matching skis. Obviously, he made sure of that. And he still complained the entire time that we should have matching suits too.
He’s deranged.
And somehow, by now, I have made my peace with that.
We are nearing the bottom when I spot a sharp curve ahead. He is going too fast. I can already see how this ends.
I say nothing.
As expected, he misjudges it, throws his weight to the side, and wipes out on purpose to avoid serious injury.
I glide past him. “Shame. I thought you’d twist your ankle and stay home with Arlo.”
He yells after me, laughing. “Even with a broken leg, I’d still ski with you.”
“Your psychosis is showing, Markev,” I shout back.
I reach the bottom and slow to a stop just as he comes up on me and wraps his arms around my waist.
“Fuck’s sake,” I say, startled, my hand flying to my chest.
He doesn’t let go, he presses his face into my hair and inhales deeply.
My chest seizes.
What happened between us since we came here has shifted something.
Something deeper than just the physical closeness.
Something I refuse to name.
I feel guilty for enjoying it.
Guilty for how natural his arms feel around me.
Guilty for how seen he makes me feel.
He is still my sworn enemy. His name alone should be enough to keep me distant.
And yet my heart and my mind are at war.
Adelaide’s voice reaches me. “Last run before they close the lift.”
I pull away before he can say anything and take my seat on the lift as we head back up, letting the cold bite hard to burn some of the confusion out of me.
Months ago, if you had told me I would be sharing space, with Markev, I would have laughed in your face.
Now it feels… disturbingly normal.
And fuck how much I hate myself for admitting that once we return to the academy, things will have to go back to how they were.
And deep down, I don’t want them to.
Disgust churns through me.
I take a deep breath and push off again, dropping back down the slope.
What I really want is to scream at the top of my lungs.
Why.
Why him.
A Markev, of all the people walking this earth.