by LJ Swallow
Ash rubs a hand over his head and looks back at the hall. "No. I can’t believe Vincent didn’t tell me."
"I can’t believe he’ll be impartial when he helps out with the games," puts in Jamie and Ash narrows his eyes. "Oh, come on. He hates witches."
When will Jamie drops this new attitude to the world? Jamie now speaks his mind, as if he lost his filter when he took on Blackwood magic.
"Maybe this is why Theodora or the Confederacy want him here?" suggests Amelia as she switches into diplomatic mode. "If Vincent works with the other races, this might teach him to be part of the world again. After..." She trails off.
I glance at Jamie and wait for his input, but sensibly he hides his disbelief at her suggestion.
"Maybe. Vince needs to re-adjust," says Ash. "Besides, I’m glad he’s here. I can keep an eye on him."
I take Ash’s hand. Is he comfortable with his new role reversal—little brother in the position of watching his older one?
Ash hides some of how he feels, because I know he misses the old Vincent. After years apart, Ash has changed too. He’s not the kid brother anymore; he’s a shifter moving towards adulthood and a new world. A world lost to Vincent until weeks ago.
"We’ve time before lessons start—we should feed you." I nudge Ash. "Before you turn into ‘hangry Ash’."
He shakes his head. "I need to talk to my brother. I’ll wait for him. Maybe catch you later?"
"No loitering in the hallway." Tobias stands in the doorway too and waves a hand at us to move. I gape at him talking to us as if we’re little kids.
"You’re in a bad mood," I say. "Don’t you like the person Theodora chose to help Professor O’Reilly?"
He narrows his eyes. "Watch your tone, Miss Foster."
I clench my jaw. He doesn’t have the right to talk to me like this. He isn’t Professor Whitlock to me, and never will be again. Tobias might keep up appearances, but I’m not happy to join in.
Amelia tugs my arm and I look away. "Come on. I want to eat before class, even if Ash doesn’t."
Ash slips past the distracted Tobias, towards the hall. Tobias steps to one side and watches Ash with concern. "Ash. You are not permitted back into the hall."
Ash continues walking and I hear him call out his brother’s name—I can't help being amused by Tobias's surprise that Ash ignored him.
Amelia makes another comment about her hunger, and pushes at Jamie to walk away. I'm not dumb—neither is Tobias—she wants to defuse the situation.
"Your authority doesn’t work anymore," I whisper, one eye on Amelia. "Not with us."
My pulse ticks up as Tobias gives a slow smile, as he does when dropping his 'professor' persona with me. "Perhaps. But we’re not equals, Maeve, however much you tell yourself we are."
His gaze burns heat into my cheeks. "Stop doing that. Don’t use your powers on me."
The quirk to his mouth grows. "Maeve. You know I don’t need to, do I?"
He succeeds in flustering me and I step away before the draw to him grows.
"Well, you must excuse me, Miss Foster. I have duties I need to attend to. We can continue this conversation later."
I blink as he strides away, at how his attitude switches as if he clicked his fingers and became Professor Whitlock again.
I hate that whenever I confront Tobias, he can turn the situation around and expose my weakness for him. Tobias lied to me for weeks, but when he told the truth, he created a worse situation. Tobias is no longer an immortal who's over a century old, or an authority figure.
Tobias is a man several years older than I am, who’s chosen to use my attraction to him against me.
And I'm determined to prove I can do the same.
Chapter Seven
ANDREI
I watch Maeve as she talks to Ash outside class. They hold hands a lot, Ash often tucking her hair behind an ear and kissing her cheek. He can hardly keep his hands off her and the way they look at each other... Retch.
They’re an interesting group to watch. Amelia’s changed since Matt left—she's quieter with an air of sadness she tries to hide and few people notice. Jamie’s not the same since he took on Blackwood magic—false confidence but something edging into a need. I don’t think he’s clear of the magic yet.
But Maeve wouldn’t be happy if I forced Jamie to be violent. He definitely needs to keep his cool, especially in public.
Strange that I know so many of their secrets and keep them to myself.
Like I kept Tobias’s because he has the ultimate hold over me.
The guy still watches over me; somebody always will, thanks to my darling mother. I do as he says, but I’m avoiding any situation where I could come across temptation. No nights out with the others at human clubs. No visits to town.
Staying away from Maeve.
Hell, she’s eating me alive from within. My heart is shredded by her because she’s everything I want and everything I don’t deserve.
Each look or smile she gives me in an attempt to make contact drives the pain deeper. Why does she want to allow me close? The girl hates what I am and would never accept me. Especially as I killed.
But who am I most worried about hurting? Her or me?
The weirdest thing—Maeve followed me again yesterday evening. This began last term, when her nightly walks became as regular as mine, and we pretended not to notice each other. She followed me once, and I’m not sure what amused me more: the stalking or that she thinks the vampire with preternatural senses didn’t notice.
Each time, I slink away into the shadows once I detect her and continue my nightly walk around the grounds away from the depressing Petrescu surroundings.
Once, I almost relented and asked her why she followed me, but I already know. She wants to talk. Dig into my mind again, but with words, not mental magic.
I can’t avoid Maeve forever. I intended to stay away until I settled around her, but all I’ve managed is one night. My ability to resist wanes the way the moon does above us when we pretend not to see each other.
I blink away the thoughts and pull my phone out. As usual, I don’t watch anything or send messages. I pretend.
I’m not interested in class today. I pull myself from the bench I’m sitting on and head towards the exit. Pausing, I shrug my bag onto a shoulder and debate where to go.
Chapter Eight
MAEVE
Finally, alone time with Ash. The tension between us has crackled all day—light touches on my hand, chaste kisses in public and plenty of Ash hugs.
I'm waiting for a chance to talk to him about his brother, thrown straight into lessons after the announcements. He was quiet all day—of course Vincent is on his mind and I need to talk to him.
We arrange to meet outside the Walcott common room. Ash visits regularly due to his friendship with witches. Some are resistant to him, but not many since Ash keeps the peace between Walcott and Gilgamesh.
Until I saw him yesterday, I never realised exactly how much I craved to be around Ash. The texts and phone calls over the holiday filled the gap he left when he walked away from our kiss. Ash had time to think about me despite everything happening in his life, and that spoke to me more than any conversation we had. I spent unhealthy amounts of time imagining his lips on mine and remembering what a high our kiss left me on. I hate that our first kiss was spoiled by the awful events—and worried this eclipsed things for Ash.
But I don't see that when he looks at me. His soft smile and shining eyes, the way he absentmindedly takes my hand pushes me towards excitement what will happen between us next. The kiss he gave when we first saw each other again wasn't as passionate as when we were alone that evening, but filled me with the same thrill because I knew then that we have something special.
Ash strides along the hallway, speeding up as he sees me. His black jacket is unzipped and the faded grey T-shirt underneath hugs his muscular chest. In the past, someone with his bulk and strength would scare me. I imagined he'd be rude. Conceited.
Taking rich pickings from girls around him.
I lost sight of that as I grew to know him; the gentle, friendly guy wasn't only the mountainous rugby player anymore. Watching Ash from a distance, I'm reminded just how imposing he is. Weirdly, discovering the guy I crushed on could turn into a dragon doesn't bother me. Not a trait I expected in a guy I liked, but why judge?
My stomach ties into knots at the purposeful look on his face, and I step forward, hesitant as to whether Ash wants to kiss me.
Dumb question.
Ash takes my cheeks in both hands and his lips meet mine. The evening we returned to the academy, the kiss came as a surprise, but I've anticipated this one all day.
His mouth is hard and insistent, arms winding around my waist and pulling me close. This time instead of worrying about our public kiss, I lose awareness of those around, soaking up his affection and desire, as his mouth moves gently against mine.
I softly run my fingers from his large biceps to his forearms and take his hands, moving away to look at him before I spend the evening entangled here.
"Hell, I missed you," he says and smooths my cheek with his thumb.
"Same." I smile and my knotted stomach fills with butterflies instead.
"Do you know how difficult it was today, to sit next to you in class and not kiss you?" He places his lips on mine to demonstrate.
"Finding alone time isn't easy," I say and wrap my arms around his neck.
He pulls me closer, one arm almost encircles my waist, and brushes my cheek with his nose. "Too cold outside."
I moisten my lips. "Too public here."
"Do you want to come back to my dorm room?" he murmurs against my ear.
My heart skips and I pull my head back to look at him. "Is that allowed?'
"No. Against academy rules, but nobody pays much attention. I've had girls in—" Panic crosses his face as he hastily adds. "Not 'had'. They visited. You know. Sometimes."
I suck my lips together, amused at his squirming, as if I can be jealous of anybody who's come before me.
"I mean, dorm rooms are private but there's always a chance your roommate could walk in."
I chuckle. "That's the only reason why, Ash? You could bribe them to stay away."
He mock-gasps. "Maeve Foster!"
"You're lying if you tell me you've never—"
"Can we not talk about my past," he interrupts. "I'm only interested in you. Here and now."
"Oh? Here? I thought you invited me to your room?" I chuckle again at his confused expression and poke him in the stomach. Ash squirms away from me. "Are you ticklish?"
"No."
"Uh huh." I run my tongue along my lips and reach out to him.
He grabs my hand. "Don't even think about it, Maeve. You'll lose."
Think about it? Hell, if only Ash knew exactly how much I imagine putting my hands on him. Tickling would be an excuse, but I doubt I need an excuse with Ash.
"Yes or no?"
"To you smuggling me into your room?"
He huffs. "Not smuggling. Like I said, visiting rooms is common."
"'Visiting'?"
"Maeve..." He pouts. "Stop teasing me."
I can't tell Ash I'm behaving like this because the suggestion both excites and scares me. And not only because we'd flaunt school rules.
Ash moves to rest his broad shoulder against the wall. "I just want time alone with you. Doesn't need to be..." He scrunches up his face. "That."
The first time I met Ash, I judged him as the guy with girls at his feet—and quite possibly on their knees in front of him. His self-assured, laid-back manner suggested to me he'd use this to his benefit and have a string of girls in his life.
I’m amused that he’s coy, nervous even, about inviting me back to his room, which makes him more endearing.
"I believe you," I whisper and step away. "You're a gentleman."
Ash moves up beside me and slips his arm around my waist. "Maeve. I'm really not."
The whispered words rush along my spine until my toes tingle.
I'm almost nineteen, and I've had a few boyfriends. Probably less than the number of girlfriends Ash has had, but I promised I wouldn't think about that.
I've visited a guy's bedroom a couple of times too, but not normally so soon.
Ash's dorm room resembles mine and Amelia's in shape and size, although the perfume and soap scent from ours is replaced with strong deodorant and an underlying 'guy smell'.
I can't see the floor either—discarded clothes and plates cover the rug in between, and video game controllers are slung onto the seats.
Ash's bed takes up the same position as mine. I perch on top of his dark blue duvet and my eyes are drawn to his nightstand. A framed photo is displayed between discarded drinks cans and crisp packets.
As Ash looks for drinks, I take hold of the frame. Ash standing with his parents and brother, on a white sandy beach in front of a shining blue ocean. Both brothers wear blue board shorts showing their tanned legs.
Vincent's chest is bare and Ash wears a blue shirt, unbuttoned. Curls hang around the teens' faces and their happiness radiates from the sunny image. The casual way Vincent drapes his arm around Ash's shoulders reminds me of Ash's behaviour towards friends.
I'm surprised how slight their mother is. Not all shifters are large, as this depends on the animal they shift into, but Vincent is twice as tall as her. Although Ash must be a younger teen, as he hasn't filled out as much as his brother, but he still eclipses his mum.
Their dad is bigger, but not bulky enough to draw peoples' eyes the way his sons do. His dark hair is short and close-cropped, his mother's tied from her face.
A beautiful, happy family holidaying in the sun.
Ash takes the frame from me. "That's the last holiday we went on together. Greece. Bloody hot but fun."
"You're a lot smaller than your brother. Not anymore."
"He'll always be the biggest and best at everything." Ash says this without jealousy, as if it's always been that way.
He sets the frame back on the nightstand and holds out a drink can to me.
"I'm glad things have worked out," I say.
"Hopefully." The bed sinks as Ash drops onto it beside me, and we sit side by side drinking Coke. I'm not uncomfortable, but sitting alone with Ash on a bed in his room adds an atmosphere we can't ignore.
He rests against the wall at the other side of his bed, and I fold my legs beneath me and snuggle up to him, putting an arm across his chest.
"You worry about Vincent, don't you?"
"I believe him," he shoots back.
"That's not what I meant." His defensiveness comes too readily. "You worry about his health. I think him working at the academy is good."
Ash relaxes and his arm goes around my shoulders. "I guess."
I shift to look at him. "What do you mean?"
"He's always overshadowed me, y'know? And I worry how he'll cope. At home, he'd wake up screaming in the night. Vince isn't himself. Not yet."
The strain on Ash's face matches the times he spoke about his missing brother—his brother who isn't a hundred percent back yet.
"Don't get me wrong, I like having Vince around, but you know how it is with siblings." He slurps from his can.
"Not really. I don't have one."
"Oh. Yeah." He runs his hand across the top of his head. "Siblings don't see eye to eye on some things."
Where Ash takes my hand and runs a finger across the back, my skin tickles. "Perhaps Vincent would like it if people treated him normally," I suggest. "He must hate the scrutiny."
"You don't know him," mutters Ash. "Let's not talk about Vince. I have important questions for you."
"Oh?"
He takes my can and sets it on the table. "How many more kisses until I reach my allocated one hundred?"
"Hmmm." I tap my lips with a teasing smile. "I'm not sure. Are we down ninety-five?"
He shifts closer and the familiar fluttering begins in my chest. His eyes d
rop to my mouth. "Some of those weren't kisses. I refuse to accept a quick kiss on the mouth counts."
I rub my lips together as his darkening eyes meet mine and slide my hand around his waist. I'd love to push my hands beneath his shirt and feel the muscles I saw in the photo, to hold him closer now there's less between us, but I'm still unsure what we're doing. Where we're going.
Chapter Nine
MAEVE
Ash's lips touch my cheek and he holds my head as he moves them across my face towards my ear. "If I'm on a limit, I'd better make sure the kisses are good ones," he whispers and I shiver as he nips my earlobe.
"I don't doubt they will be," I murmur as I slide my fingers into the back of his hair.
The expectation hovers, the unspoken attempts to gauge what happens next, and to read body language cues. Intense brown eyes look into mine and tell me exactly what he’s planning to do. I fight to hide what I want too, but I'm damn sure I'm easily readable.
Ash's mouth crashes on mine, wiping the hesitancy around the whole situation away. The suddenness is matched by my surprising, overwhelming need to respond. I grab Ash round the neck and kiss him back. Hard. He grips my hair in his fist, holding my head so I can't move, deepening his kiss. The intensity of the moment snatches away my inhibition as I relish the way his tongue explores my mouth.
Ash holds my waist with his other arm and pulls me onto him as he drops back onto the bed. I'm all for climbing on top of him and pulling off his T-shirt, but he hasn't touched my skin yet. Marvelling at my restraint, I dig my fingers into his hair and the kiss continues with neither of us stopping for air.
Slipping his hand beneath the back of my shirt, he runs his fingers along my lower back, a shiver shooting from the sensitive spot at the base of my spine to my toes. Sliding his hands around to my waist, he pulls me onto him, the touch igniting my skin.
I delve my hands beneath his T-shirt, and Ash’s soft skin is at odds with the hard abs. I dig my nails into his side as we continue to explore each other's mouths, as if that will hold us back. I'm shaking because I want to, but don't, at the same time.
