42. Liath #2
I couldn’t give Nuala crumbs. Not unless I was prepared for her to follow them. And she would. For her sister, she’d walk into that asylum tonight. She’d die there. Telling her was sentencing her.
Deargán’s cold words came back to me. “You’ll ruin everything for one girl.”
He was right. I couldn’t save Bridgit today, not if I wanted to save everyone else.
Shame settled hot and sour under my ribs. I shoved it down before it could slow me. Cry later. Hate yourself later.
I rubbed my thumb along the scar in my palm, adding Bridgit to my promise. I won’t forget you. Please just… hold on.
My mission grew heavier, the weight of one more life in my hands threatening to break me.
A bell rang somewhere above us.
Across the corridor, Lorcan pushed off the lockers.
I had seconds.
“Nuala.” I lowered my voice. “Bridgit wasn’t safe. What happened to her wasn’t random. I’ll help you figure it out, I swear to God. But not here. Not now.”
Her eyes searched mine, then she nodded. She believed me. Her trust landed in my chest like another weight added to the pile.
I slid the photo back to her as we started walking toward the lecture hall.
Lorcan fell into step beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as he leaned in. “You sit next to me.”
It was not a question.
I bristled at his audacity. “No,” I hissed. “Aoife’s already watching us. The whole campus will be.”
“I’m not asking, Gray.”
“You don’t get to demand—”
“I need you where I can protect you today,” he said, his voice cracking.
My step faltered.
Something in my chest twisted at the way he said it, the sharp edge of control wrapped around something that felt too close to protection, too close to him fearing that he’d lose me.
I hated that my body responded to that. I hated that part of me leaned toward it instead of away.
We entered the lecture hall. Rafe, Breezy, and Finn were already in their usual block of seats up the back.
“Protect me from over there.” I slid my arm into Nuala’s. “She needs me.”
Nuala and I turned toward our usual seats closer to the front. For a moment Lorcan just stood there, glancing between me and his friends who were already waving him over.
He peeled off toward his friends across the room.
Damn. I’d actually won that argument. I eased into the seat beside Nuala and let out a breath. We were closer to the doors than Lorcan. Which meant I had a chance to slip out from under him when this class ended.
The thud of chairs cut through the hum of the classroom.
I turned.
Lorcan was on his feet. So were Rafe, Breezy, and Finn, their bags swinging onto shoulders, notebooks gathered. The four of them moved across the hall in a single coordinated drift.
The whole lecture hall stopped to watch them, the kings of Ravenwood, as they settled around us.
Finn took the seat on Nuala’s left, dropping his bag by his feet. Rafe and Breezy filled in the row behind, Breezy stretching his legs into the aisle with a low whistle, Rafe muttering something about the angle of the heater.
And Lorcan slid into the empty seat to my right.
Across the hall, Aoife’s face twisted, her two minions breaking into whispers with their heads together.
Beside me, Nuala had gone still, her hands resting flat on her notebook as she glanced between Finn, Lorcan, and me. The look she shot me told me that I’d better explain everything to her later.
Fuck. My escape window was gone. There was no way I was slipping out away from him now.
Lorcan’s hand found my thigh under the desk, just brushing up my hem.
I stiffened even as heat surged through my body at his touch, at the reminder that I was bare under my skirt and that he had my ruined panties in his pocket.
His shoulders angled toward the front of the room without quite facing it, his eyes tracking the doors. Every time someone walked in, his gaze cut to them.
“I wonder who’s taking Powell’s place,” Rafe said from behind us, referring to our usual professor.
“Where’s Powell?” Nuala asked.
“You didn’t hear?” Finn settled an arm casually along the back of her chair. “Powell’s out. Indefinitely.”
“Taken ill,” Rafe added, tapping his pen against the desk.
“Ill? Nah, lads.” Breezy leaned forward between us, eyes gleaming. “Mary told Jonny who told me that Sinead saw yer man Powell being carted off in a straitjacket, roaring about feckin’ phantoms.”
Lorcan’s thumb traced the inside of my thigh.
I bit back a gasp.
“I heard he was vomiting black bile,” Rafe said. “Speaking in tongues.”
“Nah, lads.” Finn shook his head. “They found him balancing on his window ledge, ready to jump, muttering about how the devil had found him.”
“Regardless, he’s gone cuckoo.” Breezy circled a finger near his temple. “Off to the loony bin.”
My blood went cold.
Powell was fine yesterday. Now he was on a window ledge, raving about something coming for him?
Like Bridgit.
My eyes cut to Nuala. Hers found mine at the same moment. We didn’t need to speak.
A deep voice lashed through the lecture hall.
“Eyes on me.”
Heads turned to the front. Pens stilled. Conversation died in the air. The hum of the morning fell out from under me as my scalp prickled at his voice, too familiar.
Eyes on me.
My breathing dropped low as images flickered rapidly in my mind, too fast for me to catch anything.
My muscles locked as need surged through me, my thighs pressing together, that exact phrase firing up this unwanted reaction, in a lecture hall in front of everyone, with Lorcan’s hand on my thigh and his voice already vibrating inside me.
I looked up.
He stood at the front of the class.
“I am Dr. Bron Deargán,” he said, his gaze finding mine in the room as if he’d walked in knowing exactly where I’d be. “I’ll be taking over.”