by Alex Lidell
No, he pounces.
One moment, we are both on our feet, and the next, he is on top of me, one foot sweeping out my ankle to throw me flat on my face in the sand.
23
Sam
Sand scrapes against my face, rushing into my nose as I inhale—which I can only do once before Ellis’s knee presses right into floating ribs, bending me back like a bow. I bite back a scream, the world darkening around the edges as my heart races. Pounds. Each squeeze of my heart dumping another doze of terror through me.
I’m on the sand, except I’m not. I’m somewhere in a corner of a room, cowering as a man with work boots and stains of beer and vomit on his pants kicks me in the ribs. Blood pours into my mouth as I bite my lip, my small body flailing uselessly.
Something shifts and now instead of my ribs, a heavy weight pins me utterly to the ground, a man’s forearm coming around my throat.
“This is how quickly a vampire is going to take you down, Devinee,” Ellis hisses into my ear, bringing my reality right back into focus. “He is going to take you down and rip into your jugular, and then he’s going to drink all the blood pouring through that little, fragile body of yours. Now, tap out and get the hell off my pitch like you wanted.”
No. Tucking my chin to protect my neck, I tighten every muscle in my body. Ellis might have beaten me, but I’m not…not throwing myself at his mercy. As fine a point as that seems, refusing to give a bully the satisfaction of knowing that he crushed my mind along with my body is the only thing I have left today. And Ellis can’t have that.
“Tap out, cadet, you’ve lost this one.” Asher’s quiet demand barely registers though the haze. “You should be well beyond childish tantrums.”
Ellis’s body presses harder into mine, taking away any space my lungs have to expand for breath. Just as I think my world will finally slip into wonderful darkness, he grips my wrist, forcing my arm into motion. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Bits of sand fly into the air along with the remains of my dignity as Ellis puppeteers me through surrender.
Then he lifts off me, and I run.
I barge into my room, the tears I refuse to shed anywhere on this Academy ground stinging my eyes. Bernadette is still there, her I-told-you-so look raking my soul like nails on a chalkboard.
“You were right,” I say, grabbing my bag and stuffing a blanket inside it. “The asshole enjoys it.”
I don’t even know which “it” I hate Ellis more for now, the training or the surrender. Grabbing a bottle of water, I cringe as it burns its way down my sore throat. The avalanche of emotions nearly knocks me off my feet as the harsh reality slaps my face.
It isn’t Ellis who’s at fault for any of this. It’s me. Because some small part of me had started to trust the male, just as another part had played make-believe with what Cassis thought of me. I was the one who broke my own rules. And now, now I’ve gotten what I deserve.
“You know you can’t actually leave Talonswood, don’t you?” Bernadette says, cocking her head as she jerks her chin toward my bag. “The woods aren’t safe, not beyond the running trails. And then there’s the whole island thing. This is a prison, witch, in case you haven’t worked that out already.”
“Yeah. I worked it out.” Shouldering my bag, I grab a heel of bread and my water bottle. I know better than to try to escape just now, with no plan, no supplies. But I also know that I need to be alone. To lick my wounds. To remind myself that no one made me trust them. I walked into the fucking trap all by myself. And I will never do it again.
“Sam,” Bernadette calls to my retreating back, and I don’t know what makes me stop at the edge of the door instead of going forward. “I’ll cover for you until this evening, but that’s it. Don’t think I’m risking my ass for a witch.”
I shrug indifferently and head out. Whether the demi keeps her word about covering or not, that’s her choice. From now on, I’m relying on me and me alone.
Pulling my leather jacket tighter around myself, I slip out the back door of the barracks and into the woods. After the were and hunter encounter a few weeks ago, I had no intention of venturing past the exercise trails even without Bernadette’s reminder, but given how much everyone around here seems to love running, there are miles and miles of these to choose from.
Despite the early hour, the forest is full of shadows, light struggling to slip through the dense green crown of pines, oaks, and maples. Gripping the straps of my pack, I search for one dark and large enough to let me curl up just for a bit by myself, something deep and cave-like and private. Nothing feels right, not for the first mile of the hike. Nor the second. After what has to be an hour of trudging around the circular trails, I finally find a place at the base of a large oak, several of its long branches dropping low to form a little cocoon.
Climbing inside, I inhale the sweet forest air, cringing at how much the scent reminds me of Ellis. As if he followed me in phantom form. Pulling out my blanket, I wrap the wool around myself as I curl into a ball, the rush of pain and frustration finally slamming into me as the cold seeps farther into my abused body.
Though in truth, I have no one but myself to blame. I was an idiot to think anyone here would be different than everyone else I know. Cassis used me as a pawn to annoy Count Victor and piss off Ellis. And Ellis—he’s exactly who Bernadette said he was: a male who enjoys inflicting torment. A bully of the supernatural kind, who has the skill and will and opportunity to beat me down before the whole school.
Taking a shaking breath, I rub my hands over my cheeks, relieved to find the skin dry. I’ve trained myself to keep the tears in, and that, at least, I haven’t surrendered yet. A small victory, but worth holding on to.
About thirty minutes after nuzzling down into my makeshift cave, a sudden crack behind jerks me back to reality. I’m no longer alone, I realize with growing dread. Damn bloody runners. The downside of having stayed to the safe parts of the woods is that other beings have the same idea.
I hold myself still, hoping that whoever is using the trail will pass without noticing my little pity party. And if not, well, what’s a bit more hazing from a demi?—I’ll take that over a were or hunter any day.
I catch sight of red braided hair for a moment before it disappears, the wilderness going quiet again. Quieter. For all my awareness of living in the city, the smells and sights of the wilderness are still new. Unnerving.
Especially when the whole place seems to suddenly go silent and still.
A second later, I barely have a chance to gasp as someone tackles me from behind. No one near as big as Ellis, but still lean and strong. When a familiar scent of lilac shampoo fills my nose, the red braid I saw earlier snaps into place, a mix of recognition, relief, and annoyance creating their own cocktail.
Bernadette.
“Fuck off,” I shout, struggling to shake her from my back while she recreates the match Ellis inflicted on me earlier. Pressing me face-first into the ground, the demi grapevines her legs over mine until I’m stretched flat and flopping like a fish. Fury races through my blood, heating it to a boil. Gathering all my remaining strength, I buck as hard as I can. “Get the fuck off!”
Bernadette laughs, riding me like a bronco, her arm snaking around the sensitive curve of my throat. When her mouth comes close to the pulsing vein in my neck, however, the fury shifts to fear with blinding speed. I freeze.
“Oh, don’t worry, witch,” the girl purrs into my ear. “I won’t be tasting your blood today. Count Victor wouldn’t want seconds.”
The weight atop me shifts slightly, then I hear more than feel something hard smashing the side of my head. Pain explodes though my skull, the world blinking in and out of darkness, my body going limp.
“Shit.” Bernadette rolls off me and grabs my hair, pulling my face out of the dirt. “You still alive?”
Balling my hand into a fist, I swing at her face, as surprised as she looks when my knuckles connect with something.
“Bitch.” Whipping around me, Ber
nadette snakes her arm around my neck from behind, and uses the choke hold to force me to my feet. “You are a never-ending source of trouble, but perhaps it’s time that you turn into something useful for a change, don’t you think?”
Ignoring my attempt to claw at her arm, Bernadette marches me forward, half forcing me into motion, half keeping me upright. I try to clear my head to think straight, but my body is shot, my head one big pounding ball of confusion. Bernadette. Following me. Attacking me. Leading me where?
That last is answered sooner than I’d like as we turn off the trail and into the dense woods, branches slapping my face and arms, roots rising up to trip me. Bernadette’s hand just tightens even further when I stumble, gripping hard enough to bruise. My heart pounds with each step. The mantra of every self-defense video plays inside my head, reminding me to never let an attacker take you to a secondary location. Especially when that secondary location reveals itself to be a full-on cage bolted down into a stone. Right in the middle of the damn forest.
“It’s for weres,” Bernadette says, pleased. She takes off the open lock and shoves me inside the cage hard enough that I hit the bars and fall. “You know, the little fae-blooded ass wipes who can’t control their shifting.”
A soft moan escapes me as I fight to stay conscious. From the corner of my eye, I see Bernadette pull a rope from her pack and make short work of tying my hands behind my back. Before I can ask if there’s a point of tying me up inside a cage, she stuffs a rag into my mouth and closes the padlock with a final loud click.
“They don’t give students a key, in case you were wondering,” she says, walking away.
24
Ellis
Ellis buried his fist in the canvas punching bag, Sam’s shout of pain echoing through him. He shoved it away. This was why he was sent here, wasn’t it? Another dirty assignment, just like the others he’d done for his father in the past four centuries. He was here to break the witch to bridle and rebuild her into something useful to Talon—something loyal to Talon.
At the very least, to rebuild her into something that wouldn’t get dead within the first five minutes of meeting reality. A witch, rare as they were now, was too precious a commodity to waste on a chance encounter with a thirsty vamp.
Thump thump thump.
The sound of his fist striking its target echoed through the gym, focusing Ellis’s ragged thoughts. Downing out his agitation over questioning himself. He’d been right this morning. He’d been fully and totally right.
Ellis wasn’t here to be Sam’s friend. Wasn’t here to savor the way her hazel eyes sparkled with life and rebellion despite everything life had thrown at her. To be tortured by thoughts of her sinfully sweet curves under that red dress, her fiery hair brushing her neck as she danced and laughed. To remember what it felt like the one time she’d allowed him to lift her into his arms, to cradle her small, warm body against his chest as he carried her through the woods, her sweet citrusy scent filling his lungs.
For the first time since he could remember, Ellis had slept without nightmares that night.
But that wasn’t what he was here for. He was here to keep the witch alive long enough for the ruby egg his father held to hatch.
If the witch didn’t understand that stubborn rebellion alone would not protect her—and seeing how she’d spent last night pissing off Victor before nearly inviting a vampire into her bedchamber, she did not, in fact, understand— that was Ellis’s own fault. And this morning, he’d taken the first step to correcting the oversight.
Ellis punched the bag again, as he’d been doing for hours. He wasn’t Devinee’s friend. He was her jailer. Her tormentor. The one called in to bring her to heel. Because that was what Ellis did. What he was good at. What he was good for.
Thump thump thump.
Spinning around, Ellis sank the heel of his bare foot into the punching bag, knocking the thing straight off the hinges. Flying through the training hall, the bag crashed into the opposite wall, bits of drywall and plaster spraying from the newly created hole.
“Want to tell me what this is all about?” Asher asked, and Ellis spun around, cursing himself for not realizing that his brother had entered the room some time back. Inexcusable. It was the witch. He’d never have allowed such a mistake before he’d met Samantha Devinee.
Moving over to the second punching bag in the row of three, Ellis punched the new target with enough force that his skinned knuckles left splotches of blood on the canvas. “Your bag can’t hang right,” he said over his shoulder. “I think that’s rather plain.”
Ellis pulled back his fist, stopping when Asher grabbed the bag and held it out of comfortable striking range, his tawny eyes all too knowing.
“You want to try that again?” he said quietly, the attitude of an Academy instructor coming through loud and clear. Ellis’s brother was altogether civilized nowadays. Rules and forms, grading journals, and official balls. Asher had been the strategist once, his passion for victory and a new world of peace between species burning as bright as the sun. That was before Sienna had murdered Asher’s lover before his eyes, claiming that it was a witch—not a fae—Asher was destined to be with.
“Your equipment is a piece of shite, sir,” Ellis said, jerking the punching bag free of Asher’s grasp. “If you’d prefer to show me how things are done, I’d be happy to step into the cage with you right now.” He jerked his chin toward the fighting cage in the corner of the gym, its octagonal shape a tribute to the human form of entertainment.
“I’m not going to get into the ring with you, Ellis,” Asher said, that cool tone especially infuriating against the backdrop of fury rolling through Ellis’s veins.
“Afraid you’d lose?” Ellis snarled.
“I’m not afraid I’d lose,” Asher said with that horrid calm. “I’m certain of it. Which is why I’m not going to start a fight I can’t win. Want to tell me why the hell you did?”
Devinee.
“What gives you the impression that I lost?” Ellis asked, and this time when he went to strike the bag, Asher let him.
“Fair point.” Asher rocked back on his heels. “You are exactly the kind of male who’d go out of his way to ensure that the woman he was falling in love with hates his guts.”
Ellis’s fist froze in midair, Asher’s words hitting him upside the head and scrambling his brain for a moment. Ellis tolerated the witch on a good day and barely stopped himself from wringing her neck on a usual one. “I don’t know who you were watching this morning, but it wasn’t me.” He punched the bag again as if to punctuate his point.
“The witch has no sense of self-preservation,” Asher said, fortunately dropping the ridiculous assertion. “That’s a problem for me. Fighting through fear and hardship is courage. Fighting just for fighting’s sake or because you can’t read the battlefield—”
“You think I don’t know that?” Ellis huffed. “It’s a good thing Father sent me here, because I don’t know how I’ve managed to wipe my own ass all these centuries without your guidance.”
Ellis saw Asher snatch for his neck before the male’s hand connected with his throat, but he allowed it to happen. Allowed Asher to pin him against the wall like a pup.
“And now you are baiting me, Ellis,” Asher’s eyes flashed. “You want to punish yourself? Fine. But keep your mouth in check and stop trying to manipulate me into doing it for you.”
Ellis bared his teeth. Asher was wrong. Ellis wasn’t looking for punishment; he was looking to be left the hell alone.
“What are you going to do next?” Asher asked, releasing Ellis as if the incident never happened. Unlike Ellis, Asher knew exactly when to push, when to back off—which had made him a great general in the mortal military until he got tired of faking his death on a regular basis to avoid human suspicion and taken the Academy position. And, damn it, Ellis was jealous. Jealous of Asher’s control. Of Reese’s ability to shut off emotion. Of Cassis’s brazen hedonism.
“I hate to interrup
t what is clearly an intimate moment.” Reese’s clipped British tones cut between Ellis and Asher. “But has anyone seen Ms. Devinee this morning?”
Asher and Ellis spun at once, Ellis’s breath coming in winded puffs. “She went to the barracks after throwing a tantrum on the pitch. Keeping track of snot-nosed cadets is supposed to be your job, Reese.”
“I was under the impression that keeping this particular cadet in line was directly your responsibility. Yet here you are, arguing with a punching bag. Though in truth, I can’t say I altogether blame you for seeking out something a little closer to your own intellect to play with.”
“Is the witch not in her room?” Asher bladed his body to get between Ellis and Reese. Not a bad idea given that a fight between two assassins would not end well. “Sam’s roommate requested permission to stay in with her while the girl recovered from training. I granted it.”
“That was my understanding as well,” said Reese, the warrior’s muscles tense as if he too gave a damn about the witch’s safety. Ellis wasn’t sure whether he wanted to thank or throttle the male for that. “The demi was keeping an eye on the witch while Ellis entertained himself with leaving holes in walls. But when I checked just now, I found both the girls missing. Quinn too.”
Ellis’s world stopped. “All three are gone?” he demanded, shifting into wolf form before even hearing an answer.
25
Sam
I only realize I’d passed out when I open my eyes to discover the sun has moved. Along with a splitting headache, I’m acutely aware of two familiar voices coming closer to me. Male and female, neither making an effort to keep themselves from being noticed. Out here, there is no one to notice anything.
“A tribute,” says the female. Bernadette. Shit. “For Count Victor. Something that seemed to catch his eye.”