Chapter 17 #2
The museum makes more sense, I guess, and I didn’t notice anyone familiar. But I’m recognisable amongst the other faces of the Videralli.
The museum isn’t so bad.
The park…
I don’t know what was seen, or what whispers have come from that sighting, whispers that might be too close to the truth.
Oliver’s grip on my arm remains firm. “Now I know Dray won’t react well to that if he believes it to be true. And we both know it is. Whatever happened between you and Harling, it’s over, do you understand?”
I jerk my arm back, but his grip doesn’t loosen.
“If Dray does suspect anything, he hasn’t acted on it. He only told me to not talk to Eric. Nothing more.”
His lashes lower, turning his eyes molten. “Yet.”
“Gods, Oliver. You all fuck around here like common whores—and I’m in trouble for maybe seeing Eric in London one time?”
“That doesn’t apply to you.” His eyes are blazing now. “Deadblood or not, you are my sister, and I won’t stand for common men between your legs—am I clear?” His teeth grit around the words.
I sink into the wall, as though it’ll cave and swallow me whole.
It doesn’t.
“You have no idea what is at stake here, Liv. If Dray does give credit to these rumours, he could change his mind, he could demand tests—”
“Tests?”
“Pregnancy tests, STDs, tests to determine if you’ve ever had a termination or a miscarriage. If he suspects you are tainted, he can drag you through every test on the market.”
I lift my chin. “My blood tests are done.”
Oliver’s jaw tightens. “Much can happen in some weeks. Just ask Asta.” He arches a brow, a patronising look aimed down at me.
“Asta has heard these rumours—and she has grilled us all. Dray might not believe them as easily as she does, maybe he gives you the benefit of the doubt, or perhaps he just doesn’t want to accept it.
But I heard that last night, the moment he realised you left the mess hall, he abandoned the buffet and went after you.
I’m sure he isn’t so keen to let you out of his sight on a Friday night with Harling lurking around. ”
“Yeah, he followed me.” I shrug. “So what? He didn’t do anything.”
Except torment me with old memories, a stab at me as punishment for talking to Eric, but I don’t need to mention that.
“Dray has been—” sticking to his end of the deal “—better this semester. He’s distracted by the exams and trying to court me in his way.”
Oliver’s smile drips with derision. “Dray is better this semester… because you are.”
My face crumples at the cut. “I’ve never earned the way he’s treated me. Nothing I’ve done has warranted that.”
His scoff catches in his chest. “Stop thinking in black and white, in what’s fair and unequal.
You’re not a child anymore, Liv. Dray leaves you alone, you ignore him.
He is civil, or even kind, and you ignore him.
If he needs you to look at him, to see him, even if it’s with hate in your heart, what do you think he will do? ”
Oliver steadies his gaze with mine—then tugs my hair.
My wince is a hiss that he speaks over, “He will make you look at him. He will make you look only at him.” Oliver draws back a step. “Play your cards right—for once.”
“You give me whiplash,” I hiss and run my hands down my face.
“You want to throw me into the arms of evil, tell me to behave for him, won’t let anyone else show interest in me, but it’s okay as long as it’s Dray, right?
But when I tell you I don’t want you in my life anymore, that I don’t want you to be my brother—you lose your fucking mind. ”
His jaw feathers, his eyes flare, and he’s swept back to the hotel in Monte Carlo, when I made sure he knew I meant to marry away from him, outside of his reach, and that I wouldn’t be his sister anymore.
“For someone who says they care, you have a fucked-up way of showing it.”
That sadness returns to him.
Right in front of my eyes, Oliver softens.
He leans his weight back onto one boot, the tension on his face fades, his shoulders relax, and he looks down at me.
His answer comes gentle, somewhere between a murmur and a whisper, “You will never know just how much I do care, Liv. How much I’ve always cared, and all the things I’ve done to protect you.”
I rinse him over with an unkind look, “Then never curse me with your hatred—because that must be the lowest level of hell.”
Oliver doesn’t stop me as I shove by him and stalk for the atrium, but he follows—and as a girl squeezes herself up against the edge of the corridor, as if to let us pass, he stops.
I recognise her.
The same girl from the queue in the village, the one with doe eyes, dull hair like mine, and smarts enough to drop a glove in Oliver’s path.
I pause at the mouth of the corridor and turn a frown over my shoulder.
Oliver steps back into the wall as he lifts his hand in a lazy gesture for her to pass.
Her smile is small before she mutters a thanks I barely hear over the chatter in the atrium.
Oliver watches her go, blatantly checking out her ass as she disappears down the corridor.
My eyes narrow. “You are disgusting.”
Oliver turns a darkening look on me. “She’s eighteen and elite. I don’t see the problem.”
My upper lip curls. “Done your research on her already?”
There’s nothing nice about his grin. “A true hunter knows his prey.”
Disgust rolls through my belly.
Oliver takes a step closer—and looks down at me.
“I told you, Olivia. We all make sacrifices. That sometimes means not being with the one we love—and so we make do with what we have. Right now,” he adds, cocking his head, and dark tendrils brush over his brow, “I am afforded a few more months of freedom. I will take them for the luxury that they are.”
He shoulders by me.
My eyes narrow on his back as he marches into the atrium—and makes a beeline for Serena.
He pulls her into his arms and plants a firm kiss on her lips.
She’s stiff against it.