11. Of Monsters & Men
ELEVEN
of monsters & men
My boots slide across the academy floors, but Arcane never lets me pause for even a moment’s breath. The dampness of the catacombs is gone and we’re somewhere on the first floor but I can’t tell where. His hand is tightly around mine, and he pulls me along faster. I limp with a pain shooting through my right knee with every step. Water drips from my hair and through my boots, leaving a trail of evidence in our wake.
“We have to get back to our room,” Arcane growls, but it’s a pained sound that I don’t fully understand.
“Are you hurt?” I ask with searching eyes.
But he ignores me. I doubt the fearless captain has ever shown weakness in front of another living soul. I guess he isn’t going to start with me.
We round the corner at the academy’s monstrous statue I saw on my first day, and his hands are on me immediately. He shoves me face-first into the beast’s hunches. The stone edge of the statue jabs into my ribs, and I gasp from the suddenness of it all. The memory of Clawd’s hands shoving me forward flashes through my mind, but I push the thoughts away. The beastly monument looms over us with twisting horns and bared fangs, creating more distracting confusion in my mind.
He isn’t Clawd. Arcane may be hostile, but he isn’t cruel . . .
I think.
“What are you doing!?” I manage, but when I turn to confront him, a big hand shoves over my lips, and I’m pulled flush with my back against his chest.
The crown of my head pushes against his pecs as I glare up at him. His temple nearly touches mine, and so many questions rip through my mind even as my heart stupidly flutters from the nearness of his body against mine.
Will I ever fully get over the sensation of someone simply touching me?
He brings his free hand up and presses his index finger to his lips. I’m on high alert, but I can’t help but notice how he flinches, his brows pulling together with a hard line at the center. A groan shakes through his chest, and he pulls me harder against him, like he’s using me to silence his pain.
I desperately want to know where he’s hurt, but still, he holds his hand tightly across my mouth.
And then I hear them.
Footfalls come rushing down the hall in the distance. Voices carry. I’m pressing into the shadows of Arcane’s body. Big wings wrap over us, cocooning us into total darkness. Glowing silver eyes look down on me, searching my features in a slow and calculating way. It’s then that I realize . . .
I’ve found safety with the monsters.
Dolly, he removes his hand from my lips, sliding down my throat ever so slowly to rest lightly on my shoulder, but it oddly feels more intimate. My back bows against his chest, my body pressing suddenly to close any remaining space between us. His arms tremble against me as another groan stifles from deep in his chest.
“The catacombs, they’ve opened,” a voice says, shattering the isolation around us and cutting the breath from my lungs as I wait with eyes wide open to be caught. “The well has been damaged somehow. We have to get down there before all hell breaks loose.” I instantly recognize the voice as Headmaster Reign’s.
“How did this happen?” a female voice asks.
I hear their footfalls right next to us. Every muscle in my body tenses against Arcane. His hold on my shoulder tightens just as his other hand wraps around my middle, bringing me firmer against his chest like he’ll never let them rip me from him.
“First years, no doubt. Thinking it might be fun to go poking around with centuries-old spirits!” the headmaster grinds out, and as his voice fades down the hall, I’m faintly aware of the sudden sharpness of Arcane’s hold on me. Nails seem to grow longer, pressing painfully into my abdomen, but I never release the gasp stuck in my throat.
Seconds pass in the dark before I finally find my voice and courage to speak again.
“Arcane . . . Arcane, you’re hurting me,” I whisper carefully.
His wings flutter back away from us, revealing the faint morning light at the end of the long hall. Standing in the safety of his arms, I feel like I can breathe again for the first time. When I glance back up at the beautiful man who I was so certain was my savior in all of this . . . I don’t find a man at all. But a beast.
White, shining horns curl back from thick hair. Cutting silver eyes feast on me from above. Rough scales push over my wrist, and I look quickly down to find a black tail wrapping tightly up my arm.
“Listen to me,” he whispers on a pain-filled growl that meets the wince in his serpent-slitted eyes. His mouth turns narrower with blade-like teeth and a long flicking tongue salivating inside. My heartbeat thunders in my chest, pounding louder and louder in my ears as he growls out a single terrifying word: “ Run. ”