Page 34 of Dark Embers

Tobias

I was a fucking idiot.

My head ached so badly that my entire skull was throbbing. You’d think I’d let Brett and Niko use my head as a punching bag last night rather than get me drunk after the mess I’d caused.

I rolled over on the floor of Brett’s room, squinting up at the digital clock on his nightstand as the glowing red numbers came in and out of focus. I was pretty sure it said eleven-thirty-four, but as I was looking at it upside-down, it looked like it spelled the word “hell”—a perfect omen for my life.

I hoisted myself up on my palms and looked around the room as it spun for a moment. Niko was still passed out on the floor next to me, and Brett was drooling onto his pillow with his mouth wide open.

I knew I needed to eat to make myself feel better, but I was in no mood to suffer the company of other students in the dining hall. I especially didn’t want to run into Arya. Even if every fiber of my being was urging me to go to her.

Why had I acted like that? I didn’t have to freak out on her like that. I could’ve just explained to her that we needed to slow down or literally anything other than cut her off.

But I had panicked. I’d felt too strongly for her, had wanted her too powerfully, and I got scared. In that moment, all my certainty that I could separate my heart from my cock hadshattered, and I’d done the only thing I could think of to protect myself.

And I’d hurt her, and myself, in the process. Because being apart from her physically hurt. And not even the alcohol had been able to numb that pain. So I kept drinking and drinking, trying to drown it out. And here I was, hungover on the floor and cursing myself for every stupid mistake I’d made.

I bent my knees up and wiped my hands down my face, their dragon heat doing nothing to soothe the burning of my skull.

I couldn’t keep doing this. To her. To myself. I had to find some solution to this trap, this vicious cycle of wanting her and knowing I couldn’t have her.

A selfish voice whispered in my foggy mind, and it sounded eerily like my father’s.If you make her fall in love with you first, you’ll be free.

I considered that for a moment. If I could woo her like Arthur wanted, the curse would take root in her. I’d be free from the risk of ever falling in love with her, and thanks to the imprint, I’d be forced to still crave her company, to protect her and stay by her side. Would that be so horrible?

My own hand whipped across my face before I knew what I was doing, rocking my equilibrium with far more force than I’d intended.

I could never do that to someone. Not after seeing the heartbroken look on my mother’s face every time she looked at Arthur my entire life. Arthur stayed with her because they were married and had children together, and sure, he went through the motions by sleeping with her and buying expensive things.

But that wasn’t love. Those hollow gestures would never be enough for my poor, sweet mom, and they were certainly worse than Arya deserved. I wouldn’t put Arya through that despair.

I climbed to my feet with pathetic effort, nearly stumbling over Niko’s unconscious form in the process and catching myself against the corner of Brett’s desk. I held myself there for a moment, staring down at the papers on the top as I tried to gain some semblance of balance.

My eyes skimmed across the title of one of the pages in front of me.A History of Imprinting.I’d almost forgotten that Arya and Brett were working on that assignment.

I scoffed. If only I could find a way to break the imprint, then I’d be fine.

Shock bolted through my body as inspiration took me captive. What if Icouldbreak the imprint?

This was a scientific problem. Surely it could be reversed. Or treated, at the very least. Maybe there was some supplement I could take to replace Arya. Hell, maybe even some form of naga hypnosis would work!

Luckily, the foremost expert on imprinting in the world was right under this roof.

With new purpose and fresh determination, I shoved into Brett’s bathroom and took a shower, depending on the scalding water to help sober me. Then I brushed my teeth with his toothbrush—sorry, bro—and threw on some of his clothes—sorry, again—before jetting out the door and leaving the two of them to snore in stereo.

As it was Saturday, there was no guarantee that any of the teachers would be on campus, but I made my way to the facultydorms anyway. I’d sit outside her room all weekend waiting if I had to.

It wasn’t until I knocked on the door that I felt like a schmuck, and when I heard footsteps approaching inside, I had to fight the urge to cut and run. This couldn’t wait till Monday. If I could solve this problem immediately, I had to try.

The door opened and Mrs. Sharp peered out at me, a question mark forming in her expression as she recognized me.

“Mister Dracul?” she asked, then looked down either side of the hallway as if she’d find a reason for my intrusion there.

“Good morning, Mrs. Sharp,” I greeted, hoping Brett’s toothpaste was enough to mask the stale scent of liquor on my breath. “I’m sorry for coming to you on the weekend, but I have an urgent matter that needs your help.”

“Oh?” She hugged the robe she wore tighter around her, and shame washed over me once more. “What could I possibly help you with?”

I gritted my teeth, wondering how much I should divulge. Then again, I was disturbing her leisure time with my selfish bullshit, so…

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