by May Dawson
I scramble to my feet.
“You’re out of shape and behind your fellow students,” she says matter-of-factly. “Perhaps due to your late arrival.”
She glances up at me again, measuringly, as if she isn’t sure of that. Then she looks to Lincoln. “Lincoln, you’ll work with her. She’s your responsibility. Bring her up to speed.”
He stares at her, his brow furrowing. It takes Lincoln time occasionally to decide what he’s going to say, but I’m a bit quicker on the uptake. I can refuse for both of us.
“I think I’ll be fine,” I assure her. “I don’t need a tutor.”
“Your odds of surviving Finals at this rate seem abysmal,” she says.
“I’ll do it,” Lincoln growls out, sounding even more unenthused than I did about the tube socks.
“I’m not giving you a choice,” she says, patting his shoulder, “but that’s nice to hear.”
I stare at Lincoln as she blows her whistle, dismissing us all. His chest heaves, as if with exertion, but I haven’t seen Lincoln break a true sweat the whole time we’ve been out here.
“We’ll double up workout sessions,” he says. “I’ll see you out here at six tomorrow morning.”
I scoff at that. “I don’t think so, Lincoln.”
The rest of the students are already streaming toward the house, but I catch Ever staring at us from across the yard.
Lincoln leans close to me, and my breath catches in my chest.
“I’ll see you here at six,” he whispers harshly, “or you won’t like what happens next.”
He straightens. “Your call, Greyson.”
He turns and walks away. His muscles ripple under his golden skin as the mist turns into rain.
Some twists surprised me when I killed those Lords. One frightened Lord slept with Hellhounds caged under his bed; when I came in to attack him, he let loose two enormous, red-eyed dogs. As it turned out, they weren’t any more loyal to him than they were to me. One of them ripped him apart while the second hellhound chased me through his mansion.
No matter what unexpected things happened, I always walked out of those houses with bloody hands, a pounding heart, and a smile on my face.
I thought I was prepared for this school and one last kill.
But nothing has thrown me for a loop like these men.
Chapter Thirteen
Lincoln
I don’t expect Eden to actually show up at six o’clock the next morning. When my alarm goes off, I take a quick shower, then pull on my shorts and sweatshirt. It’s cold out in the mornings. My hair’s still wet as I walk out in the sharp early morning air.
No Eden. I’m alone out here.
At 6:01, I head back into our building and up the stairs. Her door’s locked, and I tap on Julian’s door.
He opens it after a few long seconds, rubbing his face blearily. “What?”
I nod to Eden’s door next to his. “I need you to crack open the princess’s tower.”
He scoffs at that. “The princess is probably safer in her tower.”
But he still stands on his bed and grabs his makeshift lock-picking kit from where he hides it above one of the ceiling panels. He joins me in the hall and makes short work of the simple lock on the door.
“Don’t be too mean to her,” he chides me on his way back to bed.
I snort. “Mean now, or dead later.”
I don’t want to spend any time with Eden. I’m pissed at Esther for putting me in this position, not that I would ever show her that. I don’t need to catch a trip to the behavior modification fields, entertaining the other students, who love to watch Nephilim fight and suffer. Eden doesn’t know how lucky she was to get away without any punishment for missing Esther’s class or for the poor showing when she bothered to show up.
If Eden is thinking extra time with me is a punishment, well, the feeling is mutual. But there’s much worse options on the table.
Especially when it comes to Finals.
I push open her door and stride in. My plan is to carry her out in whatever she’s wearing and dump her ass in the yard.
But when I come in the door, she’s tossing and turning, her arm flung above her head. “No, that can’t be true,” she murmurs. “Elliot, tell them. Tell them you’re…” Her words trail off, a quiet murmur that turns into a sob.
I stand there frozen.
Eden’s weeping in her sleep, her face etched with terror, tears clinging to her closed eyelashes. She raises her hand as if she’s trying to protect herself from something in her sleep.
But none of us can escape our nightmares.
She’ll be humiliated if she realizes I saw her in a moment of weakness. I shouldn’t give a shit about that, but for some reason, I do.
I slam the door hard behind me.
She rolls out of bed without hesitation, instantly awake, her big eyes snapping open. She’s across the room in a blur, then her body slams into mine, driving me toward the wall.
My back hits the concrete cinder blocks behind me hard as her fingers wrap around my throat. She’s already choking me, even though she’s not fully awake yet. I don’t bother to fight back.
Hell, part of me enjoys her body pressed against mine, even as her fingertips seek into a pulse point, cutting off the blood flow to my brain. It’s not like it matters. I’ve never used my brain when it comes to Eden anyway.
Recognition dawns in her eyes, and her lips part as she stares up into my face.
She’s a far more fierce fighter than she acted like yesterday. She was playing some game in Esther’s class.
This is the real Eden. Dangerous and competent underneath the sweet package.
She steps back, her hands falling to her side. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”
“You’re grouchy when you wake up,” I note. “You missed our date. Six in the morning, remember?”
She groans, raking her hand through her hair, pushing her long golden blond hair back from her beautiful face. “Right. Sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” I scoff. I assumed she was blowing me off. Then I glance around her room. There’s no alarm clock. There’s… nothing.
It’s strange, because Eden always had a way of making things homey everywhere she went. We teased her for nesting. She took almost nothing when she and Elliot fled their childhood home, but she always set up stupid little things she carried with her when we set up in a new hideout: a framed photo of her mother, a candle, sketches Julian made of us all. She’d make mandalas from stones and pinecones, flowers, and leaves. It always amazed me the ordinary things she found could turn into something so beautiful.
But maybe her ability to seek beauty anywhere has been beaten out of her, in the past two years of running.
“Yes, Lincoln, I said I’m sorry.” She turns her back to me and pulls her t-shirt over her head. Her shoulders are leanly sculpted with muscle, her waist narrow, tightly nipped above the flare of her feminine hips. She’s the perfect combination of grace and power and femininity, and my gaze goes to the floor as she pulls her sports bra on. “Give me a minute. I can’t sleep in one of these things.”
“Stop talking to me like we’re friends,” I say, my voice coming out harsh. “I’m here to train you and make sure you survive. Don’t think that makes us buddies again.”
She pulls her hair back into a ponytail as she faces me. The tight black shorts and sports bra leave little to the imagination, and as I take in her taut abs and her athletic curves, my cock suddenly hardens. Fuck. I hope she doesn’t notice, but it’s not like I’m wearing much more than she is. The tiny black shorts they give us all to wear are the ultimate fucking punishment.
Her face is placid, as if she’s not affected by my words. “Got it. Not friends. You’re the strict teacher. I actually love that game too.”
I snort. We’ll see how much she loves it in an hour.
“Let’s start off with a run,” I say. “You need to work on your conditioning.”
She heaves a sigh. She’s
always hated running. But she obediently pushes her heels down into her running shoes and jerks the laces tight, tying them up.
I glance at the door, since we have privacy for a few moments of conversation, and I debate pushing her on what kind of shape she’s really in. But it’s just going to piss me off if she lies to me, and I’m sure she will. The skill level she showed putting me into a chokehold is very different from what I saw yesterday.
I’ll find out what kind of shape she’s in, anyway. It will just involve some suffering on her part.
As soon as my foot leaves the last step down from the house, I take off running. She falls behind me before we even reach the path that leads through the woods and to the fence; there’s a running loop that tracks along the fence. Her breathing is dramatically loud in the quiet of the early morning.
I turn on my heel to run backwards.
She’s faking, her head bowed a little, her shoulders tense as if it’s hard for her to fake breathing so hard. I don’t doubt she might be out of shape, but she’s acting like an eighty-year-old asthmatic that wandered in here by accident.
“Wow. You’ve really got no pride left, huh, Eden? It must have been tough on your own the past two years.”
Her gaze rises to meet mine. “I was better off on my own than with lousy friends.”
She’s still panting dramatically, but I bark out a laugh. “You know, if you run through a Myrmidion nest fast enough, they can’t aim fast enough to take you down.”
“Are there some along here?” she asks, trying to act casual. Julian told me what happened—god, I’d love to crush his miserable ‘girlfriends’ into the ground—but I just smile grimly and turn, picking up the pace.
She pants along dramatically behind me, never quite falling too far behind. I shake my head. It’s a good thing Esther assigned me to work out with her individually. Esther would have picked up on Eden’s faking in a hurry. Esther is fair, but strict, and that wouldn’t play out well for Eden at all.
“You’re going to get yourself thrown into the detention center,” I say. “I give you a week, tops.”
“I’m keeping my head down and staying out of trouble,” she pants.
“You’ve never done that in your life,” I scoff.
I don’t mean to talk to her like we’re friends. I don’t usually give a damn enough to scold anyone but Julian, and he doesn’t listen anyway.
We run a circuit of the school’s perimeter, then I put her through a series of body weight exercises.
She falls back into the grass while I’m sitting on her sneakers, my arms still wrapped around her calves for sit-ups. Her form sucked, so I’ve been helping her do them right. She’s very appreciative, I’m sure.
“So how do I avoid the detention center?” she asks, staring up at the clear blue sky. The sun’s risen while I’ve been beating her into the ground. I barely noticed.
I snort and pat her calf without realizing what I’m doing as I unwind myself, then jump to my feet. “You might want to stop assuming everyone is too stupid to see through your bullshit. You’re a manipulative little heifer, and you’re good at it, but you’re underestimating what a bunch of sociopaths you’re in here with.”
I hold my hand out to her to help her up, but she just stares up at me.
“Let me make this very clear,” I say. “I know you’re holding back. Pretending you’re weak. And you know what? I don’t care what game you’re running, Eden. But you are going to get yourself hurt. Maybe killed.”
She takes my hand and lets me pull her up. Then she doesn’t let go, stepping in even closer to me. I suck in an involuntary breath at her body so near mine.
“If you don’t care,” she says, “then why are you yelling at me?”
She knows me too well. It hurts.
“I don’t care,” I tell her again.
I wrench my hand away and stalk toward the woods, running again before I reach the trees. Her feet thunder along behind mine, matching my pace, now that I want to shake her.
She’s not the only one who can lie.
Chapter Fourteen
Eden
When the weekend comes, I almost dread the thought of being stuck with nothing to do to distract me. At least the cycle of classes keeps me busy.
But on Saturday morning, when I wander down to breakfast in my damned uniform skirt and blouse because I have nothing else, Julian pops up over my shoulder and flashes me a grin.
I press my hand over my suddenly hammering heart. “You scared me. What kind of monster is that chipper this early in the morning?”
“The one thing that scares Eden Greyson,” Julian teases, tracing his hand across my shoulders. His touch leaves me flustered, not that I show it. “Positivity.”
I shake my head. “I can’t handle you without caffeine. What do you want?”
“Come with me,” he says. “I’ve got something to show you.”
I raise an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Tell me it’s not your dick.”
“You should be so lucky,” he scoffs. “No, it’s not that kind of party.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the cafeteria with him. Some of the girls give me dirty looks. I wonder what kind of reprisal I can look forward to, thanks to Julian’s evident affection.
Don’t worry, ladies. I’m sure it’s just a trick. You too will have the opportunity to be betrayed and beaten nearly to death if you spend enough time around these monsters…
I keep reminding myself what they did to me. Because my traitorous body seems to forget that they’re so dangerous. Julian’s fingers are warm and lithe against mine, his palm firm and dry. I’ve missed touching someone like this. The only time I’ve had physical contact with another being in the past two years, it’s been because I’ve been wrist-deep in their guts.
I’ll just keep that thought to myself. It’s not very positive.
For the second time today, I find myself heading down the path that leads to the school’s perimeter fence.
Julian is dressed in jeans, a black t-shirt, a leather jacket. The clothes fit him well, hugging his broad shoulders and emphasizing the lean taper of his waist.
“I’m jealous,” I say, then clear my throat as he turns his head, fixing me with a curious look. “Of your clothes. I don’t have anything but the uniforms.”
He gives me a sympathetic look; Julian is the kind of guy who cares about clothes. Lincoln wouldn’t understand why it mattered. “You didn’t get the chance to pack a bag, huh?”
“I didn’t know that was an option.”
“I turned myself in. It was different for me.” He says the words off-handedly.
“You did what?” I stop abruptly.
He takes a step beyond me, which wrenches our hands apart, then turns to face me. For a second, everything is quiet except for the breeze rustling the tree branches above our heads, which twist together along the path.
“I turned myself in,” he repeats, as if there’s nothing strange about that. The breeze tousles his hair, tossing it like an affectionate woman’s fingers.
“Why?”
“Because I was guilty,” he says, his jaw flexing.
“Of what?”
“Of being one of the Lords,” he says. “And I couldn’t keep running without hurting… come on, Eden. I don’t want to talk about this.”
“You want me to believe you, don’t you?” I demand. “Even though I can’t imagine why it matters to you…”
He has no idea that his life hangs in the balance. So why does he care what I think? I know how he looked at me when we were Lords; maybe he wants to finally make it into my bed.
Unease squirms through my stomach. Because the other unlikely possibility is that he really regrets being one of the Lords, and that he wasn’t involved in Elliot’s death. If he’s sincere, if he and Everett and Lincoln are innocent, I’ve done all the killing I need to do.
And then what’s left for me?
He studies me. Then he says slowly, “You’re
right. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Eden. Open book.”
I look at him skeptically, and then he adds, “But for now, I don’t want to be late. Come with me. Please.”
“Late for what?” I ask, but I still scramble through the woods with him until we come to a place along the fence.
There’s a woman waiting on the other side.
She has Julian’s wavy dark hair, even though she’s no angel. At first glance, I assume it’s yet another one of Julian’s paramours, but her face is lined with deep laugh lines alongside amber-brown eyes. She’s dressed in loose jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, looking like a soccer mom.
Julian’s mom. I glance at him in shock, but he’s ahead of me, reaching his hand for the bars. The two of them twine their fingers through the bars, and he rests his forehead against the wrought iron, as if it breaks his heart to see her. She leans her head forward too, coming as close to him as she can.
I knew Julian for three years in the Lords, and I never met his mother.
He pulls himself upright, fixing that smile on his face, even though there’s something real and intense in his gaze. “Mom, this is my friend Eden. Eden, this is my mom Laura.”
Her eyes widen—she knows my name—but she nods. “Nice to meet you, Eden.”
She has a pretty voice with a bit of a honeyed southern drawl. This feels like such a normal conversation, except for the bars that divide us, that it seems surreal.
“Hi,” I say. “It’s nice to meet you too. Do you bring all the girls to meet your mom, Jules?”
“You know I don’t,” he says, and I can tell from the look on his mother’s face that he means it.
Suddenly I feel so awkward, like I’m intruding. “I should let you two catch up…”
“Stay,” she says. “We do this every week. Mother-son brunch. And I always pack too much food.”
She unpacks a soft-sided cooler on her side, rubbing her shoulder absently, and I realize she trekked it through the woods.
“Mom found a witch to weaken the wards back here,” Julian explains to me. “Since I turned myself in, we had time to find a place beforehand to meet each week. But no one else can know.”