Chapter Forty-Four
FORTY-FOUR
I don’t believe they can.
He doesn’t think it was Lukas.
He didn’t say it in those exact words, but I didn’t need him to. Jed is on my side and Stars, I could cry with relief.
I left his room rather promptly after our conversation, thanking him again for letting me in and speaking with me, and hightailed it back to my room.
The door was locked when I reached it, and when I went inside, I was met with silence.
I don’t question it when it means I get to shower and change in peace and try to unscramble my brain in solitude.
Which is exactly what I do during the half hour before I eventually fall asleep, hours before curfew.
Lukas was failing SMC.
Xavier told me that in order to harness black magic the wielder needed to be powerful while manipulating equally powerful stones. There is no doubt in my mind now that Lukas wasn’t the one to hurt those students. He couldn’t, even if he tried.
He. Was. Failing.
The pedestal I so often put him on came down just a little knowing this, and I was glad for it, because in my eyes all that meant is that he was innocent.
Now I just need to prove it and bring the evidence to my father where he can go to the board and verify that Lukas was wrongfully charged, even in death.
‘Nocthare!’
Someone calls my name in the distance, but they sound muffled, as if they’re yelling through a wall. I can’t see them. There’s too much fog. Black fog. It engulfs me. It’s stifling. But instead of turning around and running back the way I came, something beckons me closer. It calls to me.
Aria. Aria. Aria.
I hear it. It whispers along my skin, down my spine like a caress. Enticing me to put one foot in front of the other and step deeper into the darkness.
‘Nocthare, wake up!’
No. Don’t make me. I want to cry.
Aria. Aria. Aria!
The voice gets louder now, as if it’s angry that someone dares to pull me away from it. From him? The fog thickens, its cloudy smog seems to dance and move around me as if it’s a living, breathing thing.
Stay. The voice says – no – commands.
Come to me. Come to me.
Something latches itself onto my wrist, curling around it like a vine and when I look down it’s to see a black tendril swallowing up my hand, snaking its way up my forearm.
I yelp and attempt to shake it off, but it holds firm.
My chest tightens with panic. ‘Let me go!’ I plead as I continue to try and pull my wrist from the fog.
‘NO!’
The voice booms, shaking the foundations of my nightmare. I cry out, reaching blindly for something to hold onto as the ground shakes and my body begins to sway.
‘Wake the fuck up!’ I hear that distant voice shout. Louder this time.
I can’t! I want to scream. I’m stuck. I’m stuck. I’m stuck.
‘Ria!’
My back stiffens. I know that voice. I’d know it anywhere, even if you cut my damn ears off, I’d know it. I hear it again, then a third time and, as if his voice has attached itself to my consciousness, it tugs and pulls until eventually I feel myself wake.
‘Sebastian?’ My tongue feels heavy, as do my eyelids.
I hear him expel a relieved sigh. ‘It’s me. It’s me! Fucking hell.’ Hands are on my face, cupping my cheeks that I now register are damp.
Was I crying?
My eyes blink away the black fog that seconds ago felt like it was swallowing me whole. My eyes adjust to the dim lighting in my room; the lantern on the wall has burnt down to its last dregs, barely a sliver of yellow light is left but it’s enough to make out Sebastian’s face in the dark.
He hovers over me, careful not to put his weight down on my body as he strokes his thumbs beneath my eyes and over my cheek bones. Soft and sure – like he’s not afraid of touching me. That makes one of us.
‘Are you all right?’ he asks softly. I can barely see his eyes but for some reason I still picture what they look like. Green, consumed by his pupils, which enlarge when he’s worried.
‘W-what are you doing ?’ I ask, side stepping his question because my answer is too long-winded. There’s too much inside of me – too many conflicting emotions, nearly all of them about him.
‘I came to sleep in here, but I heard you screaming before the door had even opened,’ he says by way of answer. ‘I thought someone was …’ He trails off, his unspoken words speaking volumes.
He thought I was being attacked.
My heart stumbles for a beat, as if it can’t decide whether to start racing or to stop completely.
‘Sorry,’ I whisper, leaning into his touch ever so slightly. Stars, his hands feel wonderful against my face. They’re big and warm. Grounding. Each stroke along my skin feels sure and steady, like the calmest part of the sea.
I can faintly see his head shake from side to side. His thumb skims closer to my mouth now. Travelling down to the corner of my lips. ‘Don’t be,’ he whispers and I feel like I’m about to burst into flames.
What is happening right now?
‘Okay.’ It comes out as barely a word, more of a breath, but it’s all I can manage as I try and fail to calm my racing mind.
Silence settles between us, mixing with the pent-up tension and the memory of what conspired between us the last time we were this close.
Suddenly, I feel him all around me, even though he’s barely touching me.
The only part of him I feel are his hands on my face, still stroking my skin as if he can’t stop himself, and the dip where his body sits on the edge of my bed. Our breaths fill the quiet space.
Memories of what my body felt like as it was held by him fill my mind. Like a phantom touch, I swear I feel heat lick up my back, all the way to my neck where his fists had curled in my hair. Where he pulled me to him like he couldn’t help himself.
And then – like a blade through the heart I hear …
He lied to you.
He hurt you.
I feel myself stiffening beneath my blanket. I know he must feel it too because a pained noise crawls up his throat.
‘Ria.’ My name sounds like a plea on his lips.
He doesn’t truly care about you.
So, why hasn’t he pulled away yet?
Why haven’t I told him to leave?
Because I want this. And maybe he wants this as much as I do. But we’re both so broken and tangled in our web of lies and secrets that we don’t know where to go next. I don’t know how to move forward, especially with what I learned tonight.
I also don’t know if I can trust him. Not with my mind. Not with my heart – the shattered pieces that remain are barely being held together as it is. Despite this, part of me still aches for him.
Maybe I’m delirious from the lack of sleep, from the sheer exhaustion of the day, or maybe I’m just tired of fighting all the damn time. With him. With everyone. With myself.
Maybe I’m done being here for everyone but myself, and just want to do something, not because it’s right, or will help my family, or will prove Lukas innocent. Maybe I just want to do something because I want it.
I. Want. It.
Him. I realise. Despite it all, despite the pain he caused.
I still want him. Maybe Tilly was right, and I need to decide if what he did is something I can forgive and move past. And if not, I need to tell him right now.
But even the thought of saying those words sends a bolt of panic through me.
I can’t, I decide. I can’t push him away.
I start to imagine what would happen if his body shifted closer, if his hands left my cheeks and slid down to my shoulders. If his fingers started tracing along my collarbones to the thin straps of my top. Would I stop him?
What would it feel like if his thumbs slipped beneath the fabric, if they pushed the straps over the curves of my shoulders and down, slowly, deliberately. Baring me not just to the air – but to him?
My breathing turns ragged. His breathing hitches too. He must feel it – this moment that feels awfully a lot like the precarious seconds before you decide whether or not to jump off a cliff and plummet into the water below. The irony of that is not lost on me, given the events that led to this.
Will we both take the plunge, or will we step back and retreat to where we know it’s safe?
‘We should talk,’ he tells me huskily.
‘I know.’
‘I should go back to my bed.’ His voice is a low whisper fanning against my lips.
‘I know.’
‘Is that what you want?’ His thumb pulls gently on my lower lip, right at the corner of my mouth then slides along to the pouty flesh beneath my cupid’s bow, making me shudder. ‘For me to leave?’
I’ve been trying so hard not to act solely on emotion.
I’ve been trying to play this game like I imagine Lukas would.
With careful thought and precision but right now, with Sebastian above me, with the heat pouring off him and into my own skin – I can’t shove my emotions down this time. I’m terrible at it anyway.
‘No,’ I admit out loud. To him. To myself. And Stars, it is fucking terrifying.
‘Then tell me, Ria. What do you want?’