by Wendi Wilson
His arms came up around me, squeezing me in tight. “I could never hate you, December. Please, trust me.”
I nodded against his chest, sniffing as I said, “I do. I do trust you, Easton.”
He kissed me again before pulling away and suggesting we go back in and sit with Shaela for a while. My heart warmed with pleasure at his thoughtfulness. He could have offered to take me back to my room, or his, so we could be alone and make up properly. But he didn’t.
He knew Shaela would be lonely in the medical ward by herself, and I’d feel guilty for leaving her there alone. He smiled as we pulled up chairs next to her bed and she asked if we’d sorted out our lovers’ quarrel.
“Who says ‘quarrel’?” I asked, slapping her thigh playfully.
“I do, and that’s why you love me,” she said.
“I do love you,” I replied, reaching for her good hand and giving it a squeeze.
“And I love you, December. Best friends. Forever. Never doubt it.”
“I won’t,” I promised, and my eyes skirted over to Easton.
The look on his face was odd, like he’d just realized something that excited and frightened him at the same time. Before I could question it, he wiped a hand across his face, leaving only a soft smile behind. I quirked a brow at him, silently asking what was up.
He mouthed the words, “Nothing. I’ll tell you later,” and because I trusted him, I simply shrugged and let it go.
I watched each of them as they told stories and jokes and other anecdotes, and I realized something. The comfort, the closeness I felt with them was what I’d been chasing after my whole life. Not money, a house, or material things.
What I’d been searching for was a home. A real family.
A single tear drifted down my cheek as it dawned on me—I’d finally found it. Oberon Academy was my home. The Sylphs were my family.
And nothing was going to take them from me.
Epilogue
Queen Sebille stomped in her high-rise apartment, throwing her charred jacket in the general direction of the trash can. She ground her teeth against each other, the tension in her jaw radiating out to the rest of her body. She paced across the room to the sliding door that led out onto the balcony.
She caught her reflection in the glass, her hair wild and sticking up all over, the ends singed and a growl worked its way up her throat. She jerked on the handle and the door flew across its track, banging to a stop. She stalked out onto the balcony and took a deep breath.
“December Thorne,” she gritted out between her clenched teeth.
Anger raged through Sebille’s body. This girl, a youngling who had barely begun her life, had bested her. She had thwarted months of careful planning, stopping the Zephyr takeover of that blasted school. New plans needed to be made, a new timeline set. Nothing had gone as planned.
Sebille opened her mouth and screamed, letting her rage escape her body as her black eyes burned with the need for revenge. And revenge, she would take.
She’d gain control of Oberon Academy, one way or another. She’d bring the Sylphids to their knees, and rid the world of that self-righteous king, Finn. And she’d kill the girl.
“But first,” she whispered out into the night sky, “I shall discover who her parents are.”
Someone in her midst had done the unthinkable. One of her own people had slept with a Sylph. She shuddered at the thought, disgust coursing through her.
“Whoever helped to create that abomination shall die right alongside her,” she mumbled. “I shall kill them, myself.”
With thoughts of revenge and justice swirling through her head, Sebille turned and walked back into her luxury apartment. Raising her voice, she called out to the guards whom she knew were still standing vigil outside her door.
“Maxim. Jameson.”
Her front door swung open and the two male guards filled the doorway, bowing at the waist.
“Yes, Your Majesty?” Maxim asked.
“Is he in the building?” she asked, knowing her guards would understand who she meant.
“Yes, Your Majesty. He entered his apartment a little over an hour ago and has not left since.”
A smile stretched across Sebille’s face, her sharp teeth gleaming with satisfaction.
“Bring him to me,” she ordered, and the guards gave her a salute before pulling the door closed behind them.
She struck a match and then threw it into the fireplace where a few logs rested. With a flick of her hand, she sent a light breeze toward it, fueling the flames until a roaring fire blazed. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of the burning wood. Real wood. She smiled, and a chuckle burst from her.
“The humans would just die if they knew I was burning trees,” she murmured aloud.
A knock at the door pulled her attention and she called out an order to enter. The door swung open and a man strode in, exuding a confidence that made her stomach churn with acid. God, how she hated him. She would have killed him long ago, had he not proven himself invaluable.
“You wanted to see me, my Queen?” he asked, bending at the waist into a deep bow.
“Do not mock me, Puck,” she barked.
He pressed a palm to his chest as he gasped, the sound as contrived as his wide-eyed innocence.
“I assure you, my Queen, I do no such thing.” He tilted his head to one side, his eyes travelling up and down her tall frame. “Now, if I were to say you should fire your personal stylist…”
He chuckled at his own humor as Sebille looked down at her charred clothing. Her anger spiked to new heights and she took a threatening step toward him. He didn’t move. Not even a tiny flinch.
She wanted to choke the life out of him as one corner of his mouth turned up, ever so slightly. But she couldn’t. Not yet.
“Enough,” she said instead, slashing a hand through the air. “Tell me everything you know about one December Thorne.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
1
“What about Charles Everest?”
My mouth fell open and my wide eyes burned a little as I watched a pink hue spread up Shaela’s neck and face. I’d been grasping at straws, naming boys from our class who might be prospective dates for her to bring to the party she was throwing in my honor. She’d shot down every suggestion I’d made, her facial expressions ranging from mild disagreement to outright disgust.
Until I mentioned Charles, the cute strawberry blonde who’d stayed behind and helped us protect the school from a Zephyr invasion two weeks before.
“Shaela Goodman,” I said, injecting disappointment into my tone, “you never told me you like Charles!”
“I don’t,” she said, but her face grew even redder and I knew she was lying.
I planted my hands on her shoulders and shoved her backward. She caught herself just before she tumbled off of my bed. I tried to keep my face stern, but laughter busted through the façade.
“You’re such a liar!” I accused. I cocked my head to the side, adding, “His wings are such a pretty shade of pink.”
Shaela’s eyes went a little dreamy, and I knew I had her. I smirked until her glassed-over gaze snapped back into focus and she sucked in a breath. Busted.
“You lo-o-o-ve him,” I sang.
“Shut up,” she said, unable to contain her own smile.
I straightened my spine and locked my gaze on hers. “Spill.”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes before lifting one side of her mouth into a smirk. “Okay, maybe I do think he’s sort of cute.”
“Then invite him to the party,” I said, my voice sounding desperate to even my own ears.
My seventeenth birthday was in one week. As it was also Christmas, Shaela was planning a huge birthday-slash-holiday party and I’d been trying to get her to choose a date for days. I was going with Easton, and the last thing I wanted was for her to be alone. I’d insisted she could come with us—like a group thing—but she’d wrinkled her nose and flat-out denied the suggestion.
&nb
sp; “I did invite him,” she said, “just like I invited everyone else.”
“You know what I meant, Shaela. Ask him to be your date. He’d be crazy to say no.”
“That’s sweet of you to say,” she said, a tinge of sadness creeping into her eyes. “But you know my history. You know how everyone feels about my gift.”
My mouth pulled down into a frown. Shaela had explained that she didn’t have a boyfriend, or even any friends, because of something her grandfather did. He wielded the power of love and had caused a huge ruckus that ended in two deaths a couple of centuries before.
It was ridiculous that the Sylphs at Oberon Academy held that against her.
But that wasn’t the only problem. She had also inherited some of her grandfather’s power and had the ability to influence others to feel love or friendship. No one trusted her not to use it against them.
No one until me.
“Shaela, listen to me,” I said leaning forward. “You should ask him. The worst he could do is say no. It’s not a big deal if you don’t make it one. Just be casual.”
“I don’t know, D.”
She’d taken to calling me D instead of December, and my heart warmed every time she said it. I’d never had a friend before, much less a friend who liked me enough to give me a nickname.
“Do you want me to do it for you?” I asked, the words sounding more like a threat.
“No!” Her shoulders slumped. Resignation, then acceptance flashed across her face before she added, “Fine. I’ll ask him. But you better be there to console me when he laughs in my face.”
I gave her a toothy grin and clapped as I bounced up and down. “Yay! And he’s not going to laugh at you.”
She rolled her eyes at me, but didn’t argue. I really hoped I was right, and that Charles was as nice as I thought he was. I didn’t know what I’d do if he intentionally hurt my friend. It wouldn’t be pretty, that was for sure.
“On to more important things,” Shaela said, pulling me from my thoughts. “What are you going to wear?”
I was embarrassed to admit I hadn’t even thought of that. I was so used to wearing my school-issued uniforms all the time, it never occurred to me that the kids would be wearing real clothes at the party. A flash of panic zipped through me.
“I don’t have anything,” I said.
Shaela smiled and hopped from my bed. Running over to her trunk, she started rifling through it and called over her shoulder, “You can borrow something from me. We’re about the same size.”
I started to argue, to say that her clothes would be too big, but my mouth snapped shut before any words came out. That might have been the case when I first arrived at the academy, as I was stick-thin, nearly to the point of emaciation, from lack of any real nutrition.
But after several weeks at Oberon, getting three solid meals a day and regularly dipping into Shaela’s stash of chocolate, my body had filled out. I had become a little self-conscious of my newly formed curves, but Shaela had assured me that I looked amazing, not chubby.
A black sweater hit me in the face, and I held it up for inspection. My eyes widened as I held it to the side and arched a brow at my roommate.
“Where’s the other half of this shirt?” I asked.
The sleeves were twice as long as the body which, by my calculations, would put the hem about halfway between my boobs and my belly button. Nope and nope.
“Come on, D,” Shaela said, reading my expression. “At least try it on with these jeans.” She threw the dark blue denim pants at me, adding “I bet you’ll look amazing.”
“I don’t think so, Shaela,” I said, my fingers rubbing the silky-smooth texture of the jeans.
I’d never owned something so well-made. My clothes had always been cast-offs, things people had thrown in the burn bins because they were worn out or damaged. And they’d mostly been men’s articles, thanks to my towering height—towering by human standards, that is. All Fae were tall, so at Oberon Academy, I looked just like everyone else.
Well, not just like everyone else. Where all the Sylphs were some shade of blonde, my hair was dark. And where they had bright, colorful wings, mine were black.
I was different because I was only half-Sylph. My other half was Zephyr, the race of dark Fae that had been plotting against the humans for centuries. They had put their plans into motion by “saving” the planet and making the humans forever indebted to them.
I was half-dark, half-light. A freak. The only one of my kind, since Sylphs and Zephyrs hated each other and would never be together.
Well, except for the one time it happened and I was the result.
I’d grown up as a human kid in the foster care system, an orphan cast off and abandoned on the steps of a public library. I had no idea if my parents were even alive. And I’d probably never know who they were and why they left me alone in the world.
“Earth to December!”
Shaela’s words snapped me out of my thoughts and I shot her an apologetic look. She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.
“Just try them on, please,” she begged. “If you hate it, then I’ll find you something else.”
I groaned, knowing she would talk me into wearing what she wanted me to wear, regardless of my opinion. The girl had a gift.
“People will think I’m trying to show off, or something,” I complained. “Trying to appear more confident than I am.”
“People aren’t always what they seem, D. You know who you are. It’s up to you to show the world.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
2
God, I was tired.
Easton and I had been at it for hours, just like every other day after classes, tumbling across the mats spread on the gym floor. He was relentless, determined to teach me to defend myself without magic. I was getting better, but my body was wrung out and I didn’t know how much longer I could keep up with his grueling schedule.
“Again,” he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot with his hands in the air in front of him.
I barely suppressed a sigh as I mimicked his stance. I knew he was worried about me after the Zephyr attack and the subsequent revelations about my parentage, so I didn’t want to complain. He’d been working tirelessly with me. For me.
In my distraction, he lunged, grabbing my forearms and slipping his heel behind my right ankle. I shifted my weight to my left foot and lifted my right, dislodging his before he could pull my leg out from under me. Lightning-quick, I intentionally fell backwards, wrapping my right leg around his waist as he tumbled on top of me. Before he could squirm out, I brought my left leg around and locked my ankles behind his back.
Easton’s eyes widened for a moment before narrowing. He struggled to escape my full guard, but was unsuccessful. I snaked one arm around his bicep and the other around his neck, locking him in. I had grown strong, but he was still stronger. I could feel my grip on him slipping.
So, I did what any self-respecting girlfriend would do. I cheated.
As he strained to get out of my headlock, I gave him slack—just enough to put a little space between our faces. As soon as our eyes met, I pounced.
I plastered my mouth to his, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth and running my tongue across it. All the tension drained out of him and his weight pressed down on me as he kissed me back. Fighting hard not to get as lost in the kiss as he apparently was, I let my body relax, unlocking my ankles and planting my right foot on the floor.
Thank God he closed his eyes the moment my lips touched his, because if he read my aura right then, the jig would be up.
Easton’s tongue slipped into my open mouth, brushing against mine. I kissed him for a moment more, enjoying the feel of his weight on me. A groan vibrated in his chest.
I pushed off with my right foot, lifted my shoulder off the floor and reversed our positions so that I was straddling him. Keeping my lock on his arm, I threw a leg out and around, spinning until both of my legs spread across his chest and his arm wa
s trapped between them. My back hit the floor, my body now perpendicular to his, and I lifted my hips, completing the maneuver and executing a perfect arm-bar.
Within seconds, Easton tapped out.
I released my grip on his arm and rolled away, hopping to my feet in one smooth move. Easton stood, rotating his arm while giving me a narrow-eyed look.
“That was a dirty trick,” he griped.
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” I asked, giving him my best smirk.
“I hope you don’t plan to try that in a real fight,” he shot back, arching one perfect blonde brow.
“Of course not,” I said as he stalked toward me.
I took a big step backward, my smile growing as he came a little closer. I forgot all about how exhausted I was as excitement bubbled up through me. I knew this game of cat and mouse well. And God, I loved being the mouse.
My back came up against the wall and I froze, watching Easton move in for the kill. When he was a few steps away, he lunged, his body slamming into mine a split second before his lips landed on my neck. I tilted my chin up and away, giving him better access to the sensitive skin there.
This time, it was me groaning with pleasure. The heat of his mouth sent chills racing through me, followed closely by flames that heated me to the core. My breaths puffed in and out in time with my pounding heart, which was close to exploding.
One of Easton’s hands tangled in my hair, tilting my head even farther to the side as his lips trailed up to my ear. He sucked the lobe into his mouth and twirled his tongue around it. Without any guidance from my brain, my hips bucked forward, bringing our bodies even closer.
A deep growl met my ears as Easton’s mouth moved to mine, somehow demanding and worshipping at the same time. I took the lead, pushing my tongue inside his mouth and was rewarded with a moan of pure pleasure. My hands moved from his hips to his hair, my fingers fisting around the white-blonde strands.
I was on fire. The heat was almost unbearable, but I wanted more. I needed it. I lifted one leg and wrapped it around his thigh. Without breaking our kiss, Easton gripped my butt and lifted, pulling me up so I could wrap both legs around his waist as he pressed closer, bracing my weight against the wall behind me.