by Alex Lidell
“Problem?” Reese asked, walking briskly into the room and grabbing a spare shirt from the hanger in the small closet. The infirmary was closer to the gym than his quarters, and he got into the habit of keeping spare clothes here.
“I wasn’t the only one bleeding, sir,” said Sam. “Why was I the only one ordered here?”
Turning his back to the witch, Reese pulled off his soggy shirt and replaced it with dry cotton. “I presume you are referring to Wayne’s nosebleed—though I imagine all the fae are bleeding by now.” Reese turned back, juvenilely pleased to see the witch blanch at the reminder. “Vampires and fae heal faster than witches and humans. We generally leave the decision as to when to seek medical aid to those cadets’ discretion.”
If his answer implied that he didn’t trust the witch to make that decision for herself, so much the better. Patting the table, Reese stepped away while the witch swung herself up onto it, her full breasts swaying beneath her shirt in a way that threatened to make the following quarter hour uncomfortable in a whole new way.
Pulling on latex gloves, Reese tilted Sam’s head to the side without preamble and peered at the gash on her hairline while the clock on the wall ticked loudly into the silence. Besides her very first day, Reese had never stood this close to the witch before—and he’d never planned to. Now he knew precisely why. He could hear her soft breaths, smell her sweet citrusy scent. See her big hazel eyes tracking his every move. Worse, he could hear the slight pattering of her heartbeat, the smell of her blood making his own heat slightly.
“A few stitches should do it. Are there any parts of your… fall you don’t fully remember?”
Sam’s hands curled around the edge of the table. “I don’t like sharps.”
“Then don’t invite them to your birthday party.” Pulling sutures out of their sterile package, Reese laid them out on a drape-covered metal tray before turning to draw lidocaine into a syringe.
What was it with fear of needles lately? First Ellis, now Sam. There must be something in the water.
“I’m not joking.” Sam said. Her pallor had already told him she wasn’t—which still didn’t give her any choice in the matter.
“And I’m not laughing.” Reese hardened his voice. Debate and democracy was a witch pastime, not vamps’. “Nor am I asking your opinion. Lie flat.”
Moving forward, he put his hands on Sam’s shoulders—and nearly jerked back. Hades take him, touching Sam’s skin was like brushing against a live wire. Her scent hit him as hard as the undercurrent of fear as she lowered reluctantly to the table.
“For someone who gets this nervous in an infirmary, you certainly get into enough trouble,” Reese said, allowing an edge into his words. She had no idea just how much trouble she was inviting onto herself with Victor—and it infuriated Reese how the girl’s ignorance worried him. First, it wasn’t his problem. And second, one trip to Asher’s office and she’d get over her mouthiness efficiently enough.
Samantha inhaled sharply, bringing Reese’s attention back to her face. She’d grown paler still, her eyes tightening with fear that now seeped freely into her scent.
He softened his tone. “Easy, Samantha. If I wanted to torture you, I’d forgo the numbing.”
No response. No nervous chuckle or caustic comment. Beneath his hands, Sam’s pulse echoed through her body, her tight muscles already starting to shake.
Reese hesitated, his brows tightened in uncertainty. There was nervous, and then there was this. Downright terrified. And terrified patients were bloody unpredictable.
Indecision played over Reese’s conscience, safety winning the morality game after a moment’s thought.
“Samantha.” Leaning over the shaking girl, he caught her gaze, feeling his own eyes dilate with vampiric compulsion. The warmbloods were all susceptible to the vampires’ mental coercion, though the suggestion worked better when the chosen order was something the victim wanted to begin with. Of course the vampire’s personal strength mattered too—and Reese was as powerful as Cassis. “You want this over with quickly. Staying still will make that happen, right? That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“I want you to go to hell.” Sam said through clenched teeth.
This time, Reese did jerk back.
It hadn’t worked. The compulsion should have sliced through the witch, but had easily ricocheted from her instead. Worse still was the look on her face. Her eyes flashed once at River, her rich hazel gaze saying she’d seen what he tried to do and hated him for the attempted intrusion, and then…then they unfocused. A blink, and Sam’s eyes stared into nothing in a way that Reese had seen in soldiers who never fully returned from a battlefield.
The way he’d seen in Ellis too many times to count when he was having a flashback.
And it finally hit him. Samantha wasn’t afraid of needles.
Ellis was.
“What do you see in front of you?” Reese whispered gently into Sam’s ear.
Her response turned his blood to ice. “Sienna.”
5
Sam
Walking into my room a few days after getting sam-witched on the green, I nearly trip over my own feet at the sight of a slim girl sitting on what used to be Bernadette’s bed. With her black hair in a spiky bob and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the girl’s delicate features make her look pixie-like. Her legs are drawn up, a small, very expensive laptop balancing on her knees.
“Who are you?” I ask, crossing my arms over my white uniform blouse.
The girl lifts her chin, the hopeful look in her large brown eyes making me think she knows little about the joys of Talonswood Reform. “I’m Mika. I’m… It’s my first day, and this is where they put me.”
Did they now?
“Sam.” I toss my books onto my desk, instinctively checking to ensure everything is still as I left it—it is. In addition to a letter with my name on it, still sealed. Tearing open the envelope, I scan the unfamiliar handwriting, learning that somehow, Cassis’s request that I continue to work off my debt by bartending during liberty days has been approved. My jaw clenches. Just when I thought the Academy’s draconian rules were going to work in my favor for once, they twist them on me.
Realizing that Mika is still looking at me expectantly, I sigh and turn to her. “Look, in case no one’s told you, I’m a witch. And that makes me the last person you want to be seen with around here.”
Mika snorts. “I’m a computer geek. I gave up trying to be popular back in middle school. If someone really annoyed me, I’d just change their grades.” She swipes her bangs from her face, but they fall right back over her eyes. “Commander Asher did tell me about you, though. I’ve always wanted to meet a witch, but you aren’t exactly an easy find. Well, you know.” She shrugs. “So what got you sent here?”
Ellis. My chest clenches again, and I have to fight to shut down the storm of emotions his name sends through me. I still haven’t had a chance to talk to him—which seems remarkably unfair given that he’s still sharing his flashbacks of Sienna with me. Yesterday, I saw him eating alone in a corner of the dining hall, but when I started toward him, he pushed away his tray and full-on shifted into his huge white wolf to avoid me. Yeah. That one stung. Then again, I got him whipped halfway to death, so it’s not as if he’s lacking reasons to dislike me—just in case the fact that the last witch he was around captured and tortured him for a decade wasn’t enough of one.
Realizing that Mika’s large eyes are now shifting to concern, I quickly wipe the emotion from my face. “I made a deal with a fae male before I knew this whole other world existed. Burglarized the wrong house for the right thing.” I push back another pang, the memory of the ruby calling out to me brushing something deep inside my chest. “Long story short, I got caught and sent to this prison. Listen, my last roommate tried to murder me. So don’t expect us to—” I stop talking as Mika’s fingers fly over her keyboard. Writing down our conversation like a court stenographer? “What the hell are y
ou doing?”
Silence.
Mika blinks, looking up in surprise as if she just realized no more words are coming from my mouth. “Oh. Sorry.” Her nose crinkles as she makes an apologetic face. “I was checking the network. It’s a nervous habit, and with the wet welcome and you talking about murder and prison…” She touches her still-drying hair and shudders.
Shit. I don’t know how I managed to forget the welcome hosing, but plainly, Mika had just enjoyed the same one. The memory of Asher and Reese just standing there and watching sends a shiver down my spine, replaced by a surge of heat as I remember Ellis stripping beside me, revealing his exquisitely muscled body inch by inch.
Clearing my throat, I try to divert attention from my blush by nodding my chin toward Mika’s laptop. “Talonswood blocks transmissions, by the way, so even cell phones don’t call beyond the island. So if you think you’ll be getting online anytime—” I freeze as the opening credits from South Park fill the room.
“I hope you like Adult Swim,” Mika says, tapping away. “I’m a bit addicted. That and sci-fi. Have you seen Battlestar Galactica? Oh, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Not sci-fi and kind of ironic given where we are, but I won’t be able to help myself.”
“How… How the hell did you manage that?”
“Hacked my way through the security net. It’s not that there’s no service here, it’s just that the great powers that be think they can block it. Let me tell you, there’s a big difference between what people think they can do and what they can actually do. I think the same geniuses that set up the cyber wall also installed those locks there.” She motions toward the electronic mechanism on the door that turns Talonswood’s dorm rooms into actual jail, the red light now blinking for curfew.
Mika’s hands fly across her keyboard, and the red light blinks to green before turning red again. Then green. Then…green green red, green green red, green green green green greeeeeen.
“Fuck me.” I swallow. “Did you just make the locks play ‘Jingle Bells’?”
Mika grins, her impish smile transforming her face into a fountain of mischief that makes it very difficult not to like her. “It was the first song to come to mind. I have no ear for music. Anyway, you were telling me how you got here.”
“Were you actually listening?” I ask.
“Oh… Um. No. Sorry.” She bites her lip. “I started hacking, and it kinda took over. Which is basically what got me here to begin with. I hacked into the Pentagon, and then one thing led to another…and… Well, they made it very difficult for me to say no to coming here, if you know what I mean.” For the first time, her voice falters, and she blinks too quickly several times before conjuring up a brave smile. “The trip from San Francisco was a bitch. Not that I remember any of it. Do you even know what continent we’re on?” She looks around as if our small white-walled dorm room might hold some clues.
“No, but my guess is Europe. Well, it’s an island, but I think Europe is the closest continent.” I walk over to my dresser, pulling out a pair of sweats to trade for the uniform skirt. “So are you fae or vamp?” I ask over my shoulder. I think vamp, given her pale skin, but it’s also possible that my new roommate just never realized there was a sun outside.
“Oh, vamp. I’m lucky that way. Not that it’s not lucky to be a witch,” she clarifies quickly. “I mean I’m lucky that I’ve always known I’m part vamp, so no huge shock to learn that I’m not human or about Talonswood or fae or anything. Except the part where I got sent here. That was a shock.” Mika pauses, biting her nail, the temporary quiet in the room already feeling like a rare commodity.
“It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me.” I try to sound reassuring. Mika is like a bouncy puppy, and I don’t want to see her hurt.
“It’s not like it’s a secret,” she says, though her shoulders curl in a bit as she speaks. Under her neon-yellow hoody, I can see that she’s tiny, almost birdlike. If she weren’t a vamp, I’d be as worried for her at combat training as I am for myself. “I got cocky, that’s the bottom line. But, in my defense, I was racing against the clock. It was a competition on the dark web, and I won it last year. But then they were patching just at the wrong time, and, well, the rest is history. Sorry. I’m talking too much again.” A small blush touches her pale skin, her large eyes failing to hide heart-wrenching hope. “I just want you to like me.”
I do. Unfortunately. She reminds me of Janie, and it’s kind of heartbreaking how easily that gets past my carefully built defenses.
“Look, Mika.” I make my voice kind, but with a sort of steel underneath that lets her know I’m not fucking around. “I’m a witch and about the least popular person in the entire Academy. The best thing you can do is not be seen with me. Ever. In fact, if you need to shove me in the hallway or something to keep yourself from getting your ass kicked, I understand. Just know that I’ll shove back.”
Mike frowns at me over her laptop screen as if she’s no longer certain I’m all there. “Hello. Earth to Samantha. Have you met me? Because computer nerds and cool kids go together about as well as, well, vamps and fae at a hunting competition. So if it’s all the same to you, I’ll pick my roommate’s friendship over theirs.”
“Your funeral.” I shake my head, unable to keep my gaze from sliding to the red light on the door. Ellis must be in his room now. Walking over to the door, I try the lock, though I know it’s useless. No give.
I’ve even tried drawing that opening spell rune that Ellis taught me when we were locked in the cage. But either I’m doing it wrong or my magic is on vacation, or who knows why, but it didn’t work. And my old lock-picking skills are no good with the high-tech stuff either—beating high-end locks isn’t a skill that’s exactly in high demand in the slums where I worked.
“I can open it for you,” Mika says. “Just say the word.”
I frown at her. “You can?”
“Pfft.” her bangs flop a little when she makes the sound. “I mean, ‘Jingle Bells.’ It’s not exactly difficult.”
Well, now. A small grin touches my face. “Can you open other rooms too?”
Mika’s grin widens. “A challenge? Now we’re talking. Give me the number, and I’ll deliver Christmas.”
6
Sam
My heart pounds as I push open the door, half expecting an alarm to go off with guards flooding the hallway. But there’s nothing but silence, the floor that we regularly spent half a day hand-waxing under Asher’s rule reflecting the pale wall sconces. Crossing quickly to Ellis’s room, I pause for a moment, suddenly unsure whether I should knock or just let myself in. I mean knocking is akin to asking for permission, and I’m through asking. If Ellis is going to turn his back—or his tail—on me, I want a conversation. Whether I deserve one or not. Drawing a final breath of courage, I push down on the handle—and stop at the sound of voices coming from inside the room.
“Reese says you aren’t healing.” Asher’s voice. Fuck.
I start to back away, but freeze when the words penetrate.
“Reese talks too much.” The strain in Ellis’s voice churns my stomach because I know it’s my fault. Ellis growls softly. “I don’t trust Victor, Ash. Not with Sam—”
“The witch has been nothing but trouble since she showed up,” Asher snarls. “And it’s only going to get worse.”
I step back, and the door handle snaps as I release it, the click deafeningly loud in the empty hall. Shit. My breath halts as the voices in Ellis’s room stop abruptly. I shoot a glance at my own door, take a step back and—
Ellis’s door swings open, Asher filling the frame. He steps out when he sees me, his tawny eyes and heady sandalwood scent pinning me in place. Straightened to his full towering height and standing so close to me, the male is intimidating as hell. And just as hot, with his mane of golden hair and smoothly carved features. He’s dressed less formally than usual in slim jeans and a moss-green Henley that hugs every hard ridge of his pecs and abs.
“What are you do
ing here, Devinee?” His low voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“I wanted to check on Ellis, sir.” I clear my throat, following Asher’s glance to the lock, glowing with green light. My thready pulse taps in my throat, but I raise my chin anyway.
Asher frowns, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he no doubt tries to work out how and why the system malfunctioned.
Not one to let a good cover go to waste, I press on shamelessly. “I thought that since the doors were open—”
“Go back to yer room, Devinee.” Ellis’s gravelly Scottish voice comes from behind Asher, and I peer around so I can see him.
The male sits shirtless on the edge of his bed, hunched over with his elbows braced on his knees. His light blond hair is tied back in a knot, bandages wrapped around his torso and shoulders. My heart stops with the need to touch him, to reassure myself that he’s all right. Except he isn’t. Though his voice sounded firm, there’s a pallor to his skin, a tightness to his golden eyes that speaks of pain.
I take a step toward him.
Asher blocks my path, his nostrils flaring. Does he think Ellis needs to be protected from me? That I’m too much trouble to let near his brother?
“I can help.” My voice has a strength I don’t feel but can fake well. “Ellis. Listen to me. There was iron on that whip.” Despite my best judgment, I cut a vicious glance at the asshole who wielded it, getting savage pleasure from seeing Asher’s face tighten. “I can pull it from your blood, just like when—”
“Get the hell out of my room.” Ellis’s voice snaps like the whip that struck him, my heart recoiling at the sting. “I don’t want you here.”
I swallow the lump of hurt and confusion, trying desperately to comprehend his reasoning. I get needing time to recover after what we went through, after what happened with Quinn. I even get wanting to keep his distance from me. But this? He doesn’t just seem distant—he seems hostile.
