Gray raised a thick eyebrow at her.
She did notice Argent staring at her, sitting so far forward in his chair his chin brushed his mashed potatoes. His glasses had slipped again. She reached over the candied yams and pushed them up his Roman nose.
“You are a...” He searched for the English word. “Non.”
She sighed inwardly. “I’d forgotten there for a second.”
“Shut up. Miss Strange doesn’t suck,” Sterling said.
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me since I got here. I was the first Non Sterling ever met, too,” she told Argent. “Do you want to ask me something?”
Gray’s face was tight, as if he’d just been reminded of something unpleasant. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m here to teach, aren’t I?” she said.
Gray rolled his eyes.
"Je ne sais..." Argent said. "Oncle Gris, je veut dire 'Comment sentez-vous?'"
“He wants to know how you feel,” Gray translated.
“Are you asking what it’s like to be a Non?”
Argent nodded.
“It feels normal to me,” she said. “But around here sometimes I feel like everyone is speaking a language I don’t understand.”
“I know what it’s like to be a Non. They’re just like us,” Sterling told Argent. “But they talk about their feelings more.”
Gray chuckled. “I think you’ve confused Nons with females.”
“Will they teach us about that in grade seven health?” Sterling asked. Grade seven health was notorious at Strange Academy for one thing: sex ed.
“Girls have cooties,” Gray said, pointing his drink at Sterling. “Until you’re eighteen.”
“I don’t have cooties and I’m a girl,” Sadie said.
Gray pointed at her. “She’s crawling with cooties.”
“Cooties,” Argent said, testing out the word.
“I don’t think you’ve got cooties. And maybe Carmina doesn’t,” Sterling said.
“Stay away from that—” Gray bit off the word, looking her direction. He didn't have to mince words. She understood now. Carmina might end up being a vampire—which Grey had a problem with. And for now, she was a Non. Which he had even more of a problem with. “We’ll talk about this later, Sterling.”
“If you leave, you would be happy, yes?” Argent asked.
The table quieted. She wished they were still talking about cooties, but they were back to her being a Non.
Three smoky gazes bored holes in her. Gray had a fork loaded with squash frozen in mid-air halfway to his mouth.
“I’m not sad, Argent.” And she realized she meant it. “I learned the truth about my aunt when I came here.” And all these memories will be gone when I cross Strange Academy’s magic circle for the last time, she thought. Replaced by a trip to Cancun. What color were Emilio’s eyes? Probably not gray.
Sterling took a sudden interest in the floor.
She knew that look. She felt it, too, a lonely hole in her heart. She reached over and smoothed his hair. “You miss her too? My aunt. Ms. Strange.”
“No,” he lied.
“It’s okay to miss her,” Gray said, making her blink in surprise. “I wish she was here. She turned me into a frog once, you know.” Gray laughed. The sound warmed the room.
Was he serious? She tried to read his face. No luck. “You’re joking.”
Gray shrugged. One corner of his mouth quirked up. “It’s okay, she had an aquarium.”
“Were the flies disgusting?” Sterling asked.
“Unfortunately, no. I liked them. It would have been much better if I hadn’t liked them.” He looked Sadie in the eye, as if he were serious. “I passed a note in class.”
“She turned you into a frog?” Was he serious?
He took a drink. “You should have read the note.”
*
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*
Hours later, when everyone had gone, darkness twisted in Gray’s mind like the sheets twisting around his legs in his bed. He understood now, in a way he hadn’t before.
Until he met Sadie, he simply accepted any connection with Non-Metas was forbidden. Why would he take any interest in them anyway? You could never tell them the truth.
She changed everything. He wanted her. And she said no.
He still wanted her. And she was a powerless Non. She had no defense except an ancient rule forbidding him to touch her.
Gray sat up in his bed and stared at the Qing dynasty apothecary cabinet with dozens of drawers where he kept his spells organized. He kicked off the knotted sheets. He crossed the room and removed a squat bottle from the second drawer in on the bottom row. The gold Chinese Hanzi character identifying the contents of the red-lacquered drawer shimmered and disappeared.
A little blue light shone from the heart of the spell, casting a glow over his fingers. The cold glass of the delicate bottle warmed in his hand. This was why Sadie should have stayed away from him. He could make her do anything he wanted.
*
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*
Sadie’s black kimono dropped, slithering into a satiny pile on the green tiles. The belt snaked around the lion’s claw leg of Aunt Pippa’s tub. Steam warmed Sadie’s skin and frosted the mirror.
She twisted the lock on the door before stepping to the bath, sinking until the white bubbles tickled her nipples.
Past midnight. Exhaustion penetrated to the fibers of her muscles, but she was wide awake. Sleep wouldn’t come. Every time she closed her eyes, confused sensations swirled over her. Hot terror from facing down a student who had turned into a werewolf. A fierce instinct to protect Sterling and Argent, but from what, she didn’t know. The brittle cracking sound of an icicle cracking off Strange Hall and stabbing into a snowbank, only feet away. Green liquid leaking out of an apple.
And then there was the book. The Atlas of Ancient and Medieval Architecture. She kept picturing it in her mind as an archaic grimoire, a spellbook of malicious magic, waiting to be unleashed.
She blew out a breath, willing herself not to get paranoid just because she was the only one without any protection against this stuff, as Gray had said. She’d slept well in Gray’s arms—then she’d told him to stay away.
“Smartest thing you’ve done in months,” she said aloud. “Serves you right for sleeping with another woman’s fiancé.”
Except...April was with her boyfriend.
But it had just been sex. For him, anyway. He’d reached out physically and she’d responded emotionally. He just wanted her body, and only because it was conveniently located.
What’s location to a guy who hits Vienna, Geneva, and Hong Kong in one night? She shrugged the thought away. She put her brain to the task of redecorating the room to keep it out.
The lion’s claw tub could stay. Everything else, from the ivy-patterned wallpaper to the soft green tiles, had to go. She’d rip it out and do the room in burgundy and cream, with shelves of candles she could light when she soaked in the tub for hours.
If it were hers. Soon, it would belong to her replacement—
Sudden pressure thrummed on her eardrums. Magic. Her spine shot straight, sluicing water down her back with a splash. She popped her ears and heard footsteps in her apartment.
She went still. So did the noise outside.
Suddenly, needles of pain pierced her eardrums. Her stomach quivering, she shoved her palms against the sides of her head. The air in the bathroom shimmered in waves.
Her heart pounded. She hugged her knees, covering herself.
The door warped and bent. While her brain was processing the impossibility, someone walked through the solid wood.
The profile of the dark figure loomed. A drop of water dripped down her temple. Gray.
He was naked to the waist, baring dark skin made of shadow. His silken silver trousers rode the ridge connecting his torso
to his legs. He looked down his Roman nose at her and a shiver of warning trilled through her.
With a predator’s swift grace, he leaned in and braced muscled arms against the tub.
Chapter Eighteen
“You locked your doors.” Gray shook with rage, barely controlling his anger. “You will not do that again.” He lifted her out of the water like wet paper, shoving her against the wall, not letting her feet touch the floor.
He wouldn’t let her deny she wanted him.
He wanted to rip off the water-soaked pajama bottoms clinging to his skin and sink himself deep into her and make her remember why she wanted him.
“Do you know why we are called gray?” His lips flicked her earlobe. He felt her stomach quiver against his abs. Her palm pressed against the nub of his nipple like she wanted to shove him away but didn’t have the strength. “My family chose a name to remind us how close we are to the darkness. Many of my ancestors have fallen from grace and used their powers for evil. We fight against temptation every moment.
“I know you want me. I want you.” He licked the slick skin of her throat. “Give me what I want, or I will take it. You don’t decide when we’re done. I decide.”
“Erp,” Sadie said.
He pressed his stomach to hers until they breathed against each other. His hand cradled the back of her skull. He forced her to look at him, to understand what he was.
He saw, in her eyes, she did. And she was afraid.
Nausea assaulted him. Everything came undone. All the strength drained out of his body. Why had he come here? He couldn’t remember. Except...she’d said no.
He closed his eyes as he lowered her to the floor. He winced when his forehead hit the wall. Pain was good. He deserved it.
He propped her against the wall and sat down on the fuzzy brown toilet seat lid. His head dropped to his hands.
“Gray?” a stunned voice asked.
He buried his fingers in his hair, too ashamed to look up at her. “I’m way out of line here, aren’t I?”
“Out of line,” she repeated mechanically.
“You were right about me. Those perceptions you don’t trust were dead on this time. I’m just like that guy.”
“Who?”
“Your ex,” he said, his mind too full of guilt to work right. “Starts with F.”
The room was steamy warm, but she shivered and crossed her arms over her breasts. “You mean Fabian? Gray, you’re nothing like him. We never dated, not really. He bought me dinner and then expected me to have sex with him. I said no, he got all pushy and tried to...” Sadie faltered. “Oh. I see. Well, you cooked me dinner. Totally different.”
He snorted and continued staring at the thick bathmat between his bare feet. “I just want to say...Uh, I, uh—”
“Oh, Gray,” she said, in a soothing tone. “You’re an ass.”
“I know,” he agreed.
Her pink lips got all pouty. She had no idea how much of an ass he was. He was still rock hard. He felt helpless and dangerous at the same time. One thing would make this all okay—if she were a Meta. But she wasn’t. Never would be.
Her shiny black-polished toenails appeared between his feet. He didn’t let himself look higher than her knees. Her slim hand traveled down his shoulder to his chest.
She tangled her fingers in his damp chest hair. Then she grabbed a wad of it and twisted. The shooting pain made sparks flash across his vision. Sadie didn’t let go. He ended up bent over, at navel height, trying to pry it out of her death grip.
“Of all the things you should be sorry for, you apologize for wanting me. I’m so insulted, I could spit.”
If she pulled any harder, he’d have a permanent bald spot between his pecs. “Not sorry, then,” he said, not quite sure how he managed the words.
She snorted and let go. Bright pain came with the humid breath he drew into his lungs.
She put her hands on her hips and started lecturing. He caught the words “stupid” and “arrogant,” as he sat on the lip of the tub, and then lost all sense of the conversation.
The steamy room had flushed her entire skin pink. One strand of wet hair curled around a rose nipple, outlining the path he wanted to trace with his tongue. She smelled like wet lemons. She turned and glared at him with her lovely dark eyes. Her pointed chin was pointed at him.
Feeling she expected a response, he said, “Uh, you’re absolutely right.”
She folded her arms, shoving pink nipples up temptingly. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”
He grabbed a puddle of black satin robe from the floor and held it out. “That you’re buck naked and yelling, and I’m sitting here lusting after you, so if you don’t want to end up with your back pressed into that bathmat, I suggest you A: Put on your robe, and B: Don’t say one more word.”
She put her hands on her hips, stepped closer, and thrust her breasts against him. A hot tongue traced the curve of his ear, making all his blood rush south.
“One. More. Word,” she said.
*
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“Give me the speech again.” Sadie’s eyes glowed with mischief. She was lying on her stomach, which irritated him because it meant he couldn’t see her fine breasts. On the other hand, it gave him easy access to her equally fine backside.
“What speech?” He grabbed a handful of the crimson sheets. One pull and she’d have nothing on her but the moonlight streaming in Pippa’s window.
“Do you know why we are called gray...” She lowered her voice to imitate him.
Her playful look made him scowl. “Did that turn you on?”
“Maybe.” She bit her lower lip in false innocence.
“So the conflict eating me up inside is some big joke to you?” He rolled over, giving her his back.
“I know it’s not a joke. But I can’t take it seriously, not when you try to be all scary, but then you make love to me so gently I wonder if you’re afraid of breaking me.” She ran her hands up his back as she spoke, trailing fire. His muscles went tight. “So if I have trouble—Holy crap! What is this?”
“Fu—” Intense pain stole his breath. “Stop poking my stress knot. Now.”
“Stress knot? How long have you had this?” She rested her hand on it, making him tense for another onslaught of agony.
“It’s the one constant companion of my life.”
“Everybody’s got an invisible friend,” she said, a wistful tone in her voice.
“Ha. I’d hardly call it a friend.” Each thrust of her finger was a hot brand.
“I can get rid of it for you. But it’ll hurt.”
Get rid of it? He doubted it was possible. But it was worth a try. “I’m tough.”
She raised herself on her elbow, the falling bed sheet revealing a breast. “This is a different kind of hurt.”
He got a sudden feeling he was standing at a crossroad. But they were just talking about a stress knot, right?
“It won’t be easy for me, either. To hurt you, and keep hurting you.” He felt the light touch of Sadie’s finger circling the stress knot. “I’ll have to dig right in there. Maybe I won’t be able to do it. Maybe it will be for nothing.”
Life without his stress knot. It was hard to imagine. “It’s been a part of me for so long.”
Her hand went away. “It’s okay. Nothing has to change.”
They were just talking about his stress knot. Weren’t they?
He grabbed her slim wrist. “Sadie, do it.”
After a long moment, she nodded.
*
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Sadie felt the familiar thrill wash over her as she brushed her hand over the golden-hued surface, savoring the sensation. Eagerness fought with her self-control until she almost couldn’t stand it. She didn’t want it to be over too soon, and if she gave in, she knew it would be.
The feel beneath her f
ingers, the solid core covered by a smooth skin. The slight heavy weight that made her arms tremble. It was like this every time for her. Unexpected. New. The desire. The suspense. She tried so hard to hold back, to resist the temptation, but it was too much for her. Each time, the excitement built to an irresistible level, leading to her losing control, wild grabbing, ripping, taking what she wanted with animal force, using her teeth if necessary.
And this time, it was even better, since she had no idea what was in store. No clue what was coming. She grinned in anticipation.
But just as she lifted the Amazon parcel from her aunt’s table and started to pull at the shiny plastic-and-cardboard strip that would reveal the mysterious contents, a knock on the door interrupted.
The part of her that wasn’t annoyed was grateful—it meant she got to draw this out longer. Tomorrow was the last day of the holidays and, besides the parcel, there wouldn’t be much else to keep her spirits up for a while.
Also, it was Gray’s knock.
When she opened the door, she found he wasn’t alone. His nephews were with him. But her happiness at seeing them was tinged with a bitter edge. Argent was wearing his jacket. Next to him, under Thalia’s raised shepherd’s crook, sat a navy blue suitcase on wheels. Sterling didn’t look too thrilled, taking great interest in his own shuffling feet. She had to press her lips together to keep smiling.
Gray stood behind them, leaning against the statue, his arms crossed over his chest casually. Though his eyes were half-lidded, he kept them on Argent as if drinking in the sight of the kid.
“Miss Strange,” Argent announced in his cute little accent. “Uncle Gray is taking me back. I won’t see you anymore.”
“I’m so happy I got to meet you,” she told him. “I hope you had a great time. And you did get that essay written, right?”
Argent had been fighting with a book report on Conan Doyle’s The Lost World. She’d helped a bit, corrected a few of his more glaring grammar errors. He nodded.
Sterling cocked his head, all his interest on the parcel she rested on her hip. “Did you get a present?”
“I’m not sure,” she told him. “It might be from myself. I’ve ordered some stuff lately.” Or it could be from her sister. Maybe Chloë had sent her a Christmas gift after all, she thought, with a blossom of hope. Not that she needed a present—what she wanted was a signal that her sister had softened a little. Maybe even forgiven her blunder.
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