Chapter Sixteen
Haide
It’s just after sunrise when the world splits apart in a surge of black smoke and crackling power, and when I blink next, I’m standing in the War Room.
Torches flare along the walls, casting shadows that lick and twist across the floor.
With the absence of the long table, it’s just high wing-backed chairs that look more like thrones than seats.
Every single one is occupied.
Creed sits at the head, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Knight lounges to his right, one leg thrown over the armrest, eyes cold and assessing.
Sinner sprawls across from him, grinning like he knows something the rest of us don’t.
London perches beside Knight, spine straight, fingers drumming against the table in a rhythm that sets my teeth on edge.
And Legend. Legend stands behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him in waves.
I glance around, cataloging exits, counting faces, assessing threats. Standard protocol. But there’s no empty chair. No spot for me.
Good.
I take a step toward the edge of the dais, ready to disappear into the shadows where I belong, when a hand clamps around the back of my neck.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Legend’s voice is a low rumble against my ear, dangerous and possessive. His fingers tighten, not enough to hurt but enough to hold, and before I can spit out a retort, he’s yanking me backward.
I stumble, off-balance, and then I’m falling—straight into his lap.
“What the hell—”
“Sit.” His arm locks around my waist, pinning me against him. His thighs are solid beneath me, heat seeping through the thin fabric of my uniform. I try to twist free, but his grip doesn’t budge.
“Let me go, you fucking—”
“Sinner.” Legend’s voice is smooth and controlled, which only annoys me more.
I snap my head toward Sinner, whose grin only widens, something wicked and gleeful sparking in his eyes. He lifts one hand, fingers curling in a lazy gesture.
Fuck.
My body locks. Every muscle seizes, frozen mid-struggle. I can’t move. Can’t even twitch. My arms hang limp at my sides, my legs useless, my spine relaxing against Legend’s chest like I’m some docile fucking pet.
Panic flares hot and immediate, but I shove it down, bury it deep. Breathe. Think.
I can still feel everything. The scratch of his coat against my shoulder blades. The steady rise and fall of his chest behind me. The hard ridge of his cock pressing against my ass.
And I can still talk.
“I’m going to fucking stab you,” I hiss, voice low and venomous.
Legend leans in, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“Behave yourself like a good girl,” he murmurs, dark and threatening, “and Sinner won’t cause you any embarrassment.
” His hand slides up my thigh, fingers splaying possessively.
“Like, I don’t know, making you suck my dick in front of the whole school. ”
Heat floods my face—rage or arousal, I can’t tell anymore. Maybe both. His breath ghosts across my neck, and I want to sink my teeth into his throat until he bleeds.
But I can’t move.
Can he really make me, or would it be an illusion?
A very vivid illusion?
No. Bad thoughts.
Definitely don’t tell them you’d do it in front of all of them without being forced if the mood was right.
Sinner’s magic holds me in place, limp and pliant, like a puppet with cut strings.
“Sad how you have to ask big brother for help, Legend. How very prince-like of you,” I damn near sing the taunt, waiting for him to get pissy and do the whole “Baby, I’m a King” bullshit. He doesn’t.
He just chuckles, low and dark. “I see you still have much to learn in that little codex of yours, though this might work in my favor if you continue to be as clueless as you are…or are pretending to be. Not sure which it is quite yet. Maybe a bit of both.”
“Fuck you,” I manage, voice tight.
“Later.” He laughs. “Promise.”
The doors to the War Room groan open, and the sound of footsteps echoes through the chamber. Students file in, professors trailing behind them, their faces pale and drawn. Chairs materialize along the walls, stacking upward in tiers so everyone gets a view of the dais.
The room fills quickly. Whispers ripple through the crowd, eyes flicking toward me, toward Legend.
They think you killed your roommate.
They see you on their King’s lap.
I almost tense, annoyed that a single thread of someone else’s thought could affect me enough to almost gain a reaction.
They can think I killed the girl, I don’t really care. But if they run their mouths about where my ass is planted because the man beneath me is a complete pain in the fucking ass, we’re going to have problems.
Once the last student settles into their seat, Knight stands. His movements are smooth, unhurried, but there’s a tension in his shoulders that sets my nerves on edge. He scans the crowd, gaze sharp and assessing, before he speaks.
“Effective immediately, there is a curfew.” His voice carries through the chamber, cold and commanding. “No one leaves their quarters after sundown. Anyone caught roaming the halls will spend the remainder of their time in The Cellar.”
Silence. Heavy and suffocating.
And then—
“What if I’m supposed to be getting my dick touched tonight?”
Laughter erupts, sharp and nervous. I glance toward the voice, spotting a lanky boy with messy blond hair and a cocky grin. Kael, I think. Son of some minor Argent lord.
“I guess he has a point,” I murmur, half to myself.
Legend’s hips buck upward, grinding his hardening cock against my ass. I bite back a gasp, heat pooling low in my stomach.
“The only dick you’re being fed is mine,” he whispers, voice rough and dark. “And trust me, you won’t be going anywhere else during this curfew.”
My throat tightens. My pulse thrums in my ears. I hate that my body reacts. Hate the way heat coils between my thighs. Hate that he’s the only one who can make me feel like this.
I think it’s time I took a little walk to check out this gateway of desire. I know it’s here; it was the first thing I searched for when I saw the little map page in my codex. Maybe Creed lied. Maybe I don’t need him the way he says I do.
Knight’s voice cuts through the noise again, sharp and unyielding, and I tune back in. “The murder you witnessed wasn’t the first.”
The laughter dies. The room goes deathly still.
“We’ve had others,” Knight continues. “And the brutality is growing.”
Chaos erupts. Voices rise, overlapping, frantic and accusing. Students jump to their feet, pointing fingers, shouting over one another. Professors try to restore order, but their voices drown in the tide of panic.
Creed leans forward, jaw tight. “Legend,” he murmurs, voice low enough that only those on the dais can hear. “Calm them down.”
Legend shifts beneath me, his grip on my waist tightening. I feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coil like he’s bracing for something.
But nothing happens.
Creed’s head snaps toward him. “What’s wrong?”
Legend’s jaw clenches, frustration bleeding through his carefully controlled mask. “It’s not working.”
Silence stretches between them.
“What do you mean, it’s not working?” Creed’s voice is low, dangerous.
Legend’s chest heaves against my back, his breathing ragged. “Chill.” He stops talking, and I’ve never heard him sound so unsure before. “Barely slept last night, must be that.”
Creed’s face twists into something ugly, lips curling back to show teeth.
My heart hammers. Everything inside me is screaming to bolt, to get the hell out, to throw punches. But I’m stuck here by Sinner’s little game, completely fucking helpless, trapped on Legend’s lap by an invisible string, like I’m some trophy he won.
Creed leans back in his chair, gaze never leaving mine. The weight of his stare is suffocating, like he’s dissecting me, peeling back layers to find something rotten underneath.
That’s one thing he’s right about. I am rotten.
But if they think they can pin this on me, they’re in for a fucking surprise.
The mob keeps screaming, a mess of scared and pissed-off yelling. Knight opens his mouth again, but nobody can hear a damn thing he’s saying over all the noise.
And all I can do is sit here, trapped in Legend’s arms, feeling his heartbeat thunder against my spine.
This is going to end badly.
…
The next morning, I wake to the weight of eyes on me.
My lids crack open, and sure enough, Legend’s swinging lazily on a chair too close to my bed, one boot propped on the edge of my mattress. Watching me. Like some kind of stalker with a death wish.
“You’re being creepy,” I grumble, voice thick with sleep.
The corner of his mouth tips, the expression one that makes my pulse kick despite the fog still clinging to my brain. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
I groan, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets—best part about being off the island, if you ask me—and yanking them up over my face. Maybe if I pretend hard enough, he’ll vanish. Or combust. Either works.
The sheets stop moving.
I blink into the fabric, confused, then I feel his weight. His fists press into the mattress on either side of me, caging me in. The heat of him bleeds through the thin barrier as he leans down, and suddenly the sheets are pulled away, his face hovering inches above mine.
His nose brushes over mine, and while it’s barely a touch, it’s enough to make my breath hitch.
“Get out of this bed,” he warns, voice low and rough, “before I end up in it.”
My lips twitch. “That won’t be so bad.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, playful and testing.
His eyes darken instantly. Heat floods them, molten and hungry, and I feel the answering pull low in my belly. My nipples tighten beneath my shirt, and from the way his gaze flicks down, he notices.
For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. Or do something far more dangerous.
Instead, he pushes off the bed, standing abruptly. “Your first task today requires you all worked up and tense.”
I blink at him, thrown by the sudden shift. “What?”
“Get up.”