Coveted

by Grace White

  “I felt you.”

  “Huh, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.” I rub my temples and he runs a brisk hand over his head.

  “After last night, I—”

  “You were worried. I get it, I do. But I’m fine.” His shoulders visibly relax, and I laugh softly. “I have a free period, want to hang out?”

  “I…” His eyes dart away and I sigh.

  “It’s not a trick question, Ross. Besides, I want to show you something.” Something I hope will ease his inner turmoil about last night.

  “Come on.” He motions to the door and we walk in thick silence to his dorm.

  The second we’re inside, I close the door. “Sit on the bed and don’t say a word, okay?”

  His brow quirks up, but he does as I ask, kicking off his boots and leaning back against the headboard. I search his desk for something I can use and my eyes land on a ball of twine. Plucking the end, I let it unravel and then inhale a deep breath.

  “Terra, what are—”

  “Ssh,” I snap. “I need to concentrate.” Extending my arm out in front of me, the end of the twine pinched firmly between my forefinger and thumb, I focus on the end dangling on the floor. Imagine it drifting up, the air contracting and pushing against the fibers. Until I’m no longer visualizing it, but watching it happen right before my eyes.

  “Holy crap,” Ross breathes out.

  My extended hand begins to tremble, but I keep my breathing even, calling on the power buried deep inside me. When I’m certain I have good control on the twine, I let go of the other end.

  “Now watch,” I say around a smile as I will the twine into intricate loops and patterns. My skin is warm, the vibrations in my chest a little destabilizing, but I can do this. I know I can. Just like I shattered those lightbulbs last night. Gaia’s power doesn’t control me, I control it. I just have to brave enough.

  It takes a couple of attempts to get the twine arranged in the correct pattern but eventually a perfect eternal knot hovers in the space between me and Ross. He gets up, standing at the end of the bed, staring up at the symbol I’d once watched him make out of a plate of fries.

  “That is…”

  “Only the beginning,” I say, feeling a burst of pride in my chest. “See, I’m learning to control it. I just need to practice. I know you think I’m not ready, but I am.” My eyes widen looking at him.

  “Have you tried controlling the other elements yet?”

  “I can control the flame of a candle, and I did something similar with a glass of water in Amalia’s room, but that was when—”

  “You fainted.”

  I nod. “But I’m growing stronger every day. It’s like the more I trust in myself, in Gaia’s power, the better control I have.”

  Ross doesn’t speak but awe shines in his stormy eyes.

  “See, you don’t have to worry about me so much.” I don’t know why I say the words but it’s different with Ross. He carries a great weight on his shoulders. A weight I don’t want to contribute to.

  He lifts his hand, running his fingers over the twine knot before snagging it out of the air and stepping closer to me.

  “I will always worry, Terra. It’s my job.” His voice is thick with emotion, and as he reaches me, I feel it enveloping me, the thread between us flowing back and forth.

  It shouldn’t bother me so much, constantly being referred to as their duty or job, but it does. I don’t want to be their responsibility. From what little I know about Elysia, I know it isn’t like that there. Gaia was—is—their Queen, their general. She gives the orders and they follow. But here, on Earth, it’s different.

  “What? What is it?” he presses as I mash my lips together to stop the questions from spewing out. “Your thoughts are all over the place. Tell me what you’re thinking.” He reaches for a strand of my hair and lowers his head to mine until I can’t breathe.

  “I…” The words don’t come.

  “You’re so much like her,” he whispers. “But at the same time, you’re different. Softer. Warmer.” One of his arms slips around my back, pressing me against the hard lines of his body. He’s leaner than the others. Possesses a quieter strength. But it’s still there, lingering underneath his guarded exterior.

  “Ross?” I croak, barely able to focus on anything but the feel of his body against me.

  His lips touch my skin but it’s not enough. I push up on tiptoes trying to tilt my face to his, to align our mouths in the best kind of way. But Ross breaks away on a ragged breath. “We should probably get you to the library.”

  “The library, right.” My shoulders sag as I tamp down the rejection I feel. It’s too late though. I know Ross senses it from the way his jaw clenches. But he doesn’t try to make me feel better and I don’t say anything else, the moment between us gone.

  He wants me.

  I don’t doubt that.

  But something is holding him back, and I need to figure out what it is.

  “Terra, you came,” Claire beams as I join the girls in the common room. I glance between her, Mischa, and Amalia.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?” I say, confusion pinching my brows.

  “No, no, it’s just, oh, never mind. We’re psyched you’re here. This party is going to be off the hook.”

  Amalia loops her arm through mine. “Ignore them,” she whispers as the other girls check their make-up and hair in the large mirror hanging on the back wall. “Are we all ready?”

  “As we’ll ever be. God, I need to get laid tonight,” Mischa groans. “It’s been like three months.”

  Claire chuckles. “Try six. I think my ex scarred me for life. The sex was so bad. The worst.”

  Heat floods my cheeks as we make our way out of the building. But it isn’t until Amalia asks, “What about you, Terra? Any ex’s worth mentioning?” that I burn with embarrassment.

  “I, hmm, no.”

  “What none?” Mischa gasps. “How is that even possible? I mean, look at you. I’ve got it!” Her eyes widen with delight. “What about that hottie from your class? Maybe he’s single, and he has that intense rock star look working for him.”

  “You mean Ross?” Amalia’s brows knit together as she looks at me and I shake my head.

  “He’s just a friend.”

  “But he could be a friend-with-benefits.” Mischa waggles her eyebrows as she adds another swipe of gloss to her already blood-red lips.

  “Mischa,” Claire admonishes casting me an apologetic smile over her shoulder. “Not everyone is sex-crazed like you.”

  “I am not…” she pauses for a beat and then blows out a long breath. “Oh, who I am kidding, I’m totally sex-crazed. Which is why I have to get laid tonight. Oh hey.” Excitement dances in her voice. “Maybe Sol Ericson will be there; he looks like he’d be great between the sheets. It’s the quiet brooding ones who are full of surprises, if you know what I’m saying.” She winks and my face pales just as my stomach sinks.

  “Yeah, but he’s so aloof. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with a girl.”

  “Maybe he’s gay.” Amalia suggests.

  “No way, I’ve seen him watching plenty of girls around campus.”

  She has?

  Why does the idea hurt me so much?

  “I think I’ll stick to someone less intimidating,” Claire says. “Like Cael Cormack, maybe, or Dante Receda.”

  I block out their voices after that. If I’m going to get through another party, the last thing I need is a mental image of Claire and Mischa fawning all over Cael or Sol. Not that I expect them to even be at the party. When I’d asked Cael earlier, he said it was Endo’s night on duty.

  Whatever that means.

  Canfield-Fisher is buzzing by the time we arrive. Harry comes straight over to Amalia, handing her a beer, just the way he did the last time I was here. “Terra,” he greets me. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “I’m good, but thanks.”

  “I’ll take one,” Mischa chimes in, giving him th
e once over.

  “Me too,” Claire smiles.

  “Seriously, guys,” Amalia grumbles. “Can’t you get your own drinks?”

  “It’s no problem. Ladies,” Harry crooks his elbows. “If you will.”

  Their eyes dance with approval—Mischa’s with something else too—as they move down the hall with Harry, leaving Amalia staring after them.

  “Hey,” I say. “Are you okay?”

  “Huh, what?” She blinks at me. “Yeah, fine. I’m fine.”

  She isn’t fine, but I don’t push it.

  “So, are the others here?” I try changing the subject, scanning the crowd for any sign of the twins or Greyson. I know Violet lives here, so it makes sense she’s here somewhere.

  “The twins are in the city visiting their parents. Violet and Greyson should be around here; oh speak of the devil.” Amalia points across the room to Greyson who starts cutting through the sea of bodies.

  “Ladies, looking good.” His warm gaze sweeps down my body but I feel no hint of lust coming from him. “Where’s my cousin?”

  “Playing bartender,” Amalia makes no effort to disguise the bitterness in her voice and Greyson flashes me an inquisitive expression but I just shrug.

  “Well, I don’t know about you,” he says. “But I need a drink.”

  “I could go for something stronger,” she replies, and he slings his arms around both our shoulders and guides us out of the room toward the kitchen.

  “Someone should probably take her home,” a voice says over my shoulder and I glance back at Greyson.

  “Is that an offer?”

  His hands fly up and he says around a grin, “Not me, I have plans.”

  “Of course you do.” We watch from the edge of the room as Amalia gets up close and personal with some guy I don’t recognize. “I’ve never seen her like this before.”

  He shrugs. “We all need to let off a little steam sometimes. Oops, that,”—he points in our friend’s direction—“would be your cue.”

  With a half-groan, I approach Amalia as she sways on the spot, the guy nowhere to be seen. “Hey there,” I say, and she spins around to greet me.

  “Terra.” She lunges for me, wrapping me into her arms.

  “Okay.” I hold her arm’s length. “I think it’s time for us to leave.”

  “Already?” she whines as I begin to lead her out of the common room.

  “I’m sooo wasted.” Amalia stumbles into the hall and I grab her arm yanking her to me.

  “Easy, there.”

  “Did I tell you I’m wasted?” She leans in, the bitter smell of one too many beers hitting me right in the nose. “Because I am. Totally wasted.”

  “You are not?” I say around a smile. “I didn’t realize.”

  A heavy frown pinches her face and she pouts. “Are you teasing me, Terra Materson? Because that’s just mean.”

  “Come on, let’s get you back to the dorm.” I hoist her into my side, trying to navigate through the overcrowded hall. We lost Claire and Mischa hours ago when they left to embark on their guy-finding mission. Harry disappeared too, right after Amalia tried to feel up Greyson to make Harry jealous; although she’d never admit that.

  “I’m sorry I ruined the party.” she slurs as I try to get us to the front of the dorm building.

  “It’s okay. I was ready to leave anyway.”

  Much to my disappointment, Endo never showed and there was only so much small talk you could make with a drunk girl.

  The door looms up ahead but a raucous group of guys barrel straight past us, knocking me out of the way. As I stumble, Amalia slips from my hold, giggling as her body slides against the wall.

  “My bad,” one of the guys calls and I glance back shooting him an irritated glare.

  “How rude.” I turn back to steady Amalia, but she’s gone.

  “Amalia?” My eyes crease with confusion as I do a one-eighty, trying to figure out where she went. She was right here, right—

  And then I notice it. The house is silent. There’s no bone-shaking music, no rumble of laughter or alcohol-fueled conversations.

  Nothing.

  It’s empty. But that’s impossible.

  “Amalia?” I call. “Where are you?”

  Something is very wrong. Canfield-Fisher is deserted. The lights overhead flicker as I move further down the hall scanning each room.

  Where is everyone?

  My pulse hammers in my chest as I search for my friends. The kitchen is empty, the remnants of the party evident. Counters littered with empty bottles and cups. Bowls of half-eaten chips are scattered over the table. But there's not a single person.

  “Hello?” I call again when shadows beyond the back door catch my eye. Maybe everyone moved outside? Reaching for the handle, I yank, but nothing happens. I try again.

  Nothing.

  I press my face up against the glass trying to see into the darkness. But it’s distorted, blurred faceless figures paying me no attention.

  “Hello?” My fist bangs hard over and over but no one hears. No one comes. I double back, hurrying to the front door but as I reach it, the whole house is plunged into darkness. The hairs along the back of my neck electrify as my heart hammers inside my chest.

  “Hello? Who’s there?” The tremor in my voice mirrors the hum of fear underneath my skin. Silence envelopes me. Nothing but the thump, thump, thump, of my pulse, the rasp of each breath I drag into my lungs. Fumbling in my purse, I retrieve my cell phone and find the flashlight setting. A stream of light illuminates the hall, casting eerie shadows over the walls.

  “Hello?” I croak. “Is anyone there?”

  I retrace my steps in the kitchen. The shapes beyond the door have disappeared. Nothing but darkness surrounds the house. It reminds me of the time I’d been in the bathroom at Earhart. A shudder rolls through me as I remember how scared I’d been. The inhuman noise I’d heard. I should have told the guys about it. But it’s too late now.

  “Stupid girl,” I mutter as I realize I have my cell phone in my hand.

  A cell phone I can use to call for help.

  But when I scroll through the contacts and find Ross’ number, I see the words no service glaring back at me.

  “Shit.” There’s no disguising the tremble to my voice.

  A ripple of energy brushes up against me. A thread. Not dissimilar to the one I feel with the trees around campus. I follow it, back out into the hall and down to the living room. But when I enter the vast space, I know I’ve made a terrible mistake. A black mist lingers in the room. Twisting and twirling and spreading. Acid rushes up my throat and I choke down the urge to vomit. Whatever this thing is, I need to get away from it and fast. But as I move, a long translucent tentacle unfurls, reaching for me.

  “No. NO!” I scream just as the thing touches me, and I stumble back, bracing myself for the impact. But it never comes.

  My world goes light again, and I blink up at the flash of fire and red looming over me.

  “Terra? What the hell?” Endo stares down at me, his arms cushioning my weight. “What happened?”

  I blink again, overloaded with noise, smells, and heat, as the party rages on around us. But it’s not possible, it doesn’t make any sense.

  “Terra,” a voice says from somewhere behind my red-haired savior. “Is she okay?”

  Amalia pushes through the crowd and crouches down beside me. “What happened?”

  “You’re... you’re sober?” I croak.

  “Huh? I drank like three beers, hardly cause for concern. What happened to you? One minute you were right there and the next—”

  “I fainted.” I lie, trying desperately to piece together the events of the night.

  “Again?” Concern glitters in her eyes but I wave her off. Shirking out of Endo’s grip, I stagger to my feet.

  “I’m fine. It must be low blood sugar or something. Endo, can you walk me back to my dorm?”

  “Yeah.” He rubs his jaw, his emerald eyes narrowed on me
. “Come on.”

  Amalia makes a big fuss of helping me to the door and then hugs me before stepping back to join Mischa, Claire, Harry, and Greyson, as they watch on with a mix of concern and confusion.

  It doesn’t make sense. Amalia was drunk. I saw her. I was right there after she’d knocked back drink after drink in an attempt to wash away her bad mood. I shake my head, hoping for some clarity. Endo’s body is wound tight as he leads me down the path and toward Earhart, one hand on my arm, the other on the small of my back.

  “Endo?” There’s no disguising the quiver in my voice.

  “Not yet, Terra. Not yet,” he whispers, and I swallow the questions on the tip of my tongue.

  Once the house is out of sight, he releases his hold on me and pulls out his cell, typing a message.

  “Endo?”

  “Tell me exactly what happened?” His pace quickens, and I glance around to check we’re not being followed.

  “I was at the party with Amalia. She was acting drunk, so I tried to get her out of there. Some guys barged into me and when I turned around she was gone. Everyone was.”

  “Everyone?” he clarifies casting me a sideways glance and I nod.

  “The place was deserted, Endo. I saw figures outside, but they were distorted, they didn’t look right. Then when I went into the living room, there was this mist.” My voice dies but Endo’s hand slides down to mine, squeezing reassuringly.

  “Go on,” he encourages.

  “It was moving as if it was alive. It made me feel sick. I tried to run, but it reached for me. That’s when you caught me, and everything went back to normal.”

  I peek around at his face, wishing I could read his mind. I know how it sounds; like I’m losing my mind. And even though I don’t have an explanation for what happened back there, I know what I felt.

  What I saw.

  “Endo?” I whisper.

  “Let’s get you back to your room and then we’ll talk.”

  “But I—” I bite back the words. Because something tells me this is just the beginning.

  And from Endo’s deafening silence, I think he knows it is too.

  We had no problems getting into Earhart. Most of the girls were still at the party at Canfield-Fisher or holed up in their rooms studying. But Endo is on edge, pacing back and forth waiting for ‘reinforcements’ to arrive, as he called it.