Chapter 13 Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbor’s Sin Power #3
He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that. I guess diplomacy has its value when brute force doesn’t work.
Figured a Wrath would understand the struggle.
Thought maybe you could help me out. In return, I’ll brew you something.
Alchemy’s kind of my thing. I’m pretty much a protegee in the art.
A stamina potion, truth tonic, hair-growth serum—whatever your heart desires. ”
Now that gets my attention. Potions aren’t easy to come by at the academy, not to mention everything brewed in Gluttony Sin class gets confiscated, and things like truth tonics aren’t on the curriculum.
But studying with a mafia prince who probably has a high body count and zero patience? Risky. Deliciously risky.
The universe is 100% toying with me. I hesitate.
He tilts his head, watching me. “What, scared I’ll eat you?”
“Scared I’ll like it,” I mumble, then immediately want to punch myself in the throat. Why would you say that out loud?!
His eyes gleam, and for a second, he looks like he might take me up on my offer.
“Look, I’m just saying,” he says, running his hand over his buzzed hair, “you help me not fail, I make your life easier. That’s a win for both of us, right?”
I roll my eyes hard. “Fine. But if this turns into some mafia initiation where I have to stab someone with a broken potion bottle—”
“You’ll already have the bottle,” he says, dead serious, but the twitch of his mouth gives him away.
I shake my head as I pass him, feeling his gaze on me as I go. “This better be the best damn tonic I’ve ever had, West.”
“Oh, it will be,” he calls after me. “Might even make you immune to my charm.”
“Then I’ll take two.” I mumble under my breath. I have a death wish.
As I continue walking down the hall, still feeling the weight of Maddox’s strange, smoldering attention lingering on my skin, a hand grips my arm again—tight, unrelenting—and a jolt of something hot and electric zips up through me like a live wire.
My body tenses. Only one of my bonds would elicit that unwelcome reaction.
I turn to find Atticus standing close.
And his usual cold, storm blue eyes are raging. They blaze with something close to fury, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack stone.
“What the hell were you doing talking to Maddox West?” he snaps, low and sharp. His hand grips my arm a little more tightly.
I blink at him, stunned by the venom in his tone. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he says, voice like a blade. “You think it’s smart to cozy up with him? He’s dangerous, Arwen. He’s not someone you flirt your way through assignments with.”
My mouth parts, disbelief catching in my throat. “I wasn’t flirting—”
“Sure looked like it.”
There’s something cruel in his voice. Not protective or possessive. Bitter. Like it’s personal. Like I’m the enemy.
And it hurts more than it should.
“Why do you even care?” I say, trying to keep my voice steady and low to not attract more attention. “You act like you don’t even know me. Let those assholes you call friends make my life miserable. "
He scoffs, taking a step closer. “Because unlike you, I actually know what’s going on in this world.
I’m not from a little backwater city in the middle of nowhere.
My upbringing included connections and knowledge and knowing the world players on the board.
I’m trying to keep you from making a stupid mistake that could get you killed. You should be grateful. "
“Really?” I snap, chin lifting. “Because it sounds a lot more like you’re just trying to control who I speak to.”
He doesn’t answer. Just continues staring at me like I’m something foolish. Fragile. Like I’ve disappointed him in some way that I can’t begin to understand.
And then—
“Atticus,” a syrupy voice cuts in.
Daphne.
One of his favorite distractions.
She slinks up beside him, wrapping her manicured arm through his like it’s made to be there.
Did she purposely shorten her skirt?
Her long lashes flutter as she gives me a once-over, slow and unimpressed, before her lips curve in a smile sharp enough to cut.
“Oh,” she says, her tone light. “Didn’t see you there, charity case. Shouldn’t you be… I don’t know, scrubbing toilets or filing paperwork or something? Whatever it is they let you do around here without powers to pay for the waste of space you are?”
Her smile widens, faux-innocent. “Unless you’ve run out of supplies.” The scene around me changes. I look around at my new surroundings. A dirty public restroom as Atticus and Daphne look in from the door. Someone comes up behind me and dumps blue toilet cleaner over my head, burning my eyes.
Atticus doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t defend me. Just stands there, still staring at me. Then he turns and walks away like I’m nothing at all.
“I’ve got better things to do,” he mutters as he walks off. Daphne’s still standing there with a smug smirk.
“Daphne Langley.” A professor snaps from down the hall.
“You better not be using your powers again. I will issue you a warning.”
The vision fades, leaving me standing in the middle of the hall. Frozen and clean again.
Daphne faces the professor with her lips in a pout.
“Sorry, Professor Bryce. I needed to see something for my homework.”
“Don’t let it happen again,” the professor replies in a bored tone and walks off.
I can’t believe that bitch used her powers on me. It’s against academy rules to use powers on other students outside of training, but apparently when you’re in Pride, you get a slap on the wrist.
My chest feels tight, but I don’t cry. I won’t. I’m Wrath. I don’t cry over boys or bonds or betrayal. What is his problem? He wouldn’t care if I died in a ditch.
Still, as I head back toward the dorms, my throat aches with something unfamiliar. Something hollow.
Why does it hurt this much?
Why do I feel this cracked open over someone I don’t know?
And why, despite everything… do I still feel the heat of his hand on my arm?