Chapter 12 Thou Shalt Not Flirt with Doom
Thou Shalt Not Flirt with Doom
Arwen
The alarm on my phone blares again.
For the third morning in a row, I’m ripped away from what barely qualified as rest. I’m lucky that I made it back to my dorm room and nobody, bond or otherwise, disturbed me last night.
The ache in my chest is still there, like a brand trying to burrow into my skin.
The memories of the bond ceremony rush back in, and I sit up with a rush of adrenaline.
I go to reach for my phone, but my hand brushes against something unfamiliar—a folded note? Dramatic.
I don’t remember that being there when I collapsed into bed like a sack of unresolved trauma. I unfold it, expecting a message from Holly, but no.
It's a picture.
A cloud? With lightning?
Because that’s not ominous at all.
Before I start over-analyzing, my phone pings and I open it to see the notification. An email from Dean Bellows. My blood runs ice cold. I never fessed up to my messy bond situation, but that doesn’t mean someone else didn’t…
I glance over at Holly’s curls poking out of her blankets, sleeping like the dead—peaceful, unbothered. She’s way too relaxed for the typical Wrath nightmares that our kind typically get.
For a moment, rage and jealousy flood my emotions. I just want one morning where I wake up and feel safe.
Is that too much to ask? Just a basic, non-doom-filled existence where the biggest stressor is a pop quiz on Faction dynamics.
Apparently, yes. It is too much to ask.
My heart is beating out of my chest as I prepare to open the message, anticipating the worst. One of my bonds must have fessed up. I take a deep breath and click the little envelope icon on my phone.
“Miss Davies–Since you did not create a bond, I encourage you to pour yourself into your studies. I have attached your schedule with your sin power class rotation.—Dean Bellows.”
I take a tremendous sigh of relief and face-plant back on my pillow. Crisis momentarily averted. No one has fessed up to being my bond yet.
I guess there is one minor upside to being sinless: no one wants to admit they’re tied to you. Social invisibility is a great defense mechanism—until you need someone to save your ass.
I peel myself out of bed. Time to sneak out and shower before the rest of the academy’s sparkly elite start their morning struts.
The fewer people, the fewer stares. Nothing says "sinless loser" like panic sweat.
The shower helps. I mean, it doesn’t erase the crushing existential dread or the persistent chest ache, but at least I no longer smell like fear-sweat. Small wins again.
As I’m washing off my body, I hear the door open and a small group of girls come in.
“Oh my gosh, thank universe Atticus Willshire didn’t bond and is still single. If I didn’t have a chance this year to ride that gorgeous specimen while at the academy, I would punch a wall.”
My bond grows prickly and jealous in my chest as I picture Atticus with someone else. I roll my eyes at my thoughts as a scrub at my hair violently.
This is totally ridiculous. He is a pretentious douchebag.
I still want to rip this girl’s head off. It’s a good thing I can’t see her.
“Oh my universe, Megan! You can’t say that!” Another girl shrieks.
Shit. Now I know her name.
“What? Why not? What are these academy years for if not for trying out some new factions in bed? I bet Pride’s get super competitive in the bedroom.”
The other girls giggle, and I can’t help that my thoughts drift to stormy blue eyes, peering up from between my legs under blankets. My body starts aching in places that I really don’t have time to give attention.
What is happening? I’ve got to get it together.
I hear the sound of shower doors closing, and I use the opportunity to step out, dry off and hurry out. Opening the door to my room, I find it empty. I throw on my academy uniform and start my reply back to Dean Bellows.
Just as I’m packing my bag to leave, Holly walks back in looking fully rested and showered.
“She’s alive and awake!” She smiles. “Where’d you disappear to after the bond ceremony? You didn’t come to dinner. I thought maybe you got sacrificed or something?” She lets out a laugh that collapses halfway, brittle at the edges.
I stretch casually as I think of a lie to tell my new bestie. I guess this will be the new norm…
“Ugh, I was just so tired. All the traveling and schedule chaos caught up with me. I figured I’d crash early.”
She raises an eyebrow but, thankfully, she doesn’t push.
Nodding, she grabs her bag. “Alright, well, let’s go get food. I’m starving. If I don’t get at least two waffles before class, I will punch someone.”
I can relate to her early morning Wrathy mood.
We head toward the cafeteria, and I can already feel the universe laughing at me. First time showing my face since the bond ceremony, and of course everything feels wrong. Every creak in the floorboards hits my nerves like a warning bell.
It feels like eyes are on me, even if no one’s actually looking.
My palms are slick, my pulse is pounding in my ears, and the air has that sour, metal taste of guilt I’m pretending I don’t have.
Any second now I’m convinced someone’s going to step out of a doorway, slap cuffs on me, and drag me off to the wastes like I deserve.
I keep my head down as we slip into the cafeteria and join our usual table. Sly, Brix, Chloe and Tabby are already halfway through breakfast, throwing food and bad jokes across the table like they don’t have a care in the world.
I keep my head down and focus hard on my tray, like my waffles will give me answers. If I don’t look up, I won’t accidentally make eye contact with anyone dangerous. Like, say, one of my four multi-faction bonds. No big deal. Totally manageable.
I can tell the stares haven’t stopped. I pretend not to notice, but my waffles are not that interesting, and the tension in my chest is only getting worse.
Suddenly I feel it.
That pull. That magnetic, soul-tugging, can’t-ignore-it sensation, right in the middle of my sternum. It’s like being yanked.
One of them is here.
I chance a glance in the direction my body wants me desperately to go.
Atticus.
Of course it’s him. Tall, manicured and effortlessly cool, like sin dressed in silk and good intentions. He’s sitting at the table across the room, flanked by his usual Pride crew of walking, talking superiority complexes.
He glances my way and suddenly… he’s staring back at me.
Our eyes lock for one second too long.
Then he looks away. Fast. Like he touched something hot.
Next to him, Daphne—patron saint of weaponized femininity—catches the entire exchange. Her eyes narrow like she's trying to set me on fire with her gaze, and honestly, she might actually try. I don’t know what her power is.
She leans into him a little, all smug and territorial, like she’s marking her favorite chew toy.
I blink, tear my gaze away, and stab my breakfast with a little too much aggression.
My friends are still laughing. Still eating. Still blissfully unaware that my internal organs are staging a rebellion.
Walking on eggshells? More like doing cartwheels on a minefield.
The tension in my chest finally lets up a bit as everyone settles into breakfast mode.
Between Holly’s endless commentary, Sly and Brix throwing hash browns at each other, and Tabby trying to flirt with literally anyone within a ten-foot radius, it’s almost possible to forget that I’m psychically tethered to four people against my will.
Almost.
“So, what’s your schedule look like?” Sly asks through a mouthful of food.
“Yeah,” Tabby chimes in, already twirling a piece of her hair like we’re in a bad teen drama. “How are they handling your sin training since you don’t have one? Or are they just giving you a vibe check and hoping for the best?”
“They’re not just throwing her into the void, Tabby,” Cleo mumbles as she adjusts her glasses and scrolls through something on her phone… “Probably.”
I sigh and continue to poke at my plate. Tabby’s not far off with the complete void and vibe check theory.
“Dean Bellows is having me rotate through all the sin training classes—two a day—until something manifests. Guess her idea is that exposure might trigger something.”
Everyone freezes like I just announced I’ve cut off my arm.
Holly leans forward, eyes wide. “Wait. You get to rotate through all the sin lessons?”
Sly whistles low and shakes his shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes. “That’s nuts. I don’t think anyone has sat in on a training outside of their own sin. Like... ever.”
“Seriously,” Brix says. “They don’t even let us read about the other factions in the library back home, and you’re getting a full-on behind-the-scenes tour of their powers and training? Badass.”
Tabby raises her eyebrows. “Kinda hot, not gonna lie. All that power variety. I’d kill to sneak into a Lust training. Or get tied up by accident in a Wrath training. Whichever would be fine with me.”
“Consent matters, Tabby.” Cleo mumbles, flipping through her book.
“Details.”
I give a weak laugh and shake my head. At least they’re supportive.
“Yeah, well, I don’t even have a sin power yet, so unless something snaps into place, I’m just the weird sinless girl awkwardly guest-starring in everyone else’s training sessions. I wouldn’t be too jealous.”
“You’re not weird,” Holly says. “You’re just… a late bloomer.”
I roll my eyes and take out my phone. “Let’s see what fresh hell has in store today.”
I pull up my schedule and momentarily forget to breathe.
History of Factions–9:00 AM–Professor Gabriel
No. No, no, no, no.
Nope. Absolutely not. Not yet. I’m not ready for another encounter; I’ve barely emotionally recovered from the first.
“Oh, universe.”
Holly peeks over my shoulder. “What? Who’d they stick you with first?”
I spin the phone around and flash the screen at her.
She gasps. “Gabriel?! The hot professor?! The one with the arms and the voice and the... sexy ass? What’s wrong with that?