Page 61 of Nova Academy

Cadmus in particular was a perfect example. When I’d first met him he gave off the impression that he was better than everyone else, that working for someone was beneath him and Henrik had become his new lapdog. Except, that wasn’t the case. While Henrik did complete delegated tasks at Cadmus’ behest, it was entirely his decision. No one was forcing him to be someone else’s lackey, and though it looked like it from an outsider’s perspective, they were growing rather close as friends. Even now, Cadmus rose from his seat when he noticed Henrik glance longingly at the plate of bacon, putting a whole hoard of it onto his own plate and then silently offering it to his friend by raising the plate between them.

It was sweet, and I could see then that this group was doing wonderful things for more than just them. It was providing friendship, loyalties were being forged, a support system erected. These people were going to be closer than family, and I could already see the foundations slotting into place.

I sat on Xander’s lap today since Artemis needed to find her footing within the group dynamic again. I did a little happy dance at just how well things were going, ignoring the way he stiffened and poked at me from below. It was something that had occurred far too often when we found ourselves in this position, but I tried to let go of the guilt that I didn’t want to help him with the problem. It had almost ruined our friendship at the beginning when he struggled to comprehend that I just didn’t like sex. I was a Griknot female after all, and our entire culture was based around sex and pleasure, but our friendship persisted through the confusion to build a solid foundation for something more.

Asexual did not mean aromantic. I loved love as much as any other woman, I just didn’t have the urge to be physical with anyone other than hugs and cuddles, and maybe the occasional kiss.

But that was irrelevant to the current moment. I was admittedly a little concerned that some of the guys would view Artemis in a different light, or find it more difficult to forgive her behaviour, but they all seemed to understand that her past was riddled with trauma and it was being released aggressively.

She wasn’t being intentionally violent or cruel. She just needed to be left alone to sort through things in her head. She carried so much weight on her shoulders it was a miracle she was even still standing. I wanted to help her lighten that load, to give her a reprieve whenever possible. After all I’d learned last night, she was going to need all the help she could get.

But what that assistance would or could consist of was another thing entirely.

‘Stop wriggling, you monster,’ Xander whispered in my ear, hisbreath hot and damp on my neck.

I hated that feeling, and he knew it. I stopped moving immediately just to stop him from using that revolting sensation against me again.

‘Good girl.’

I scoffed. ‘Shut up. I’m not your good girl. You’ll have to look elsewhere for that kinky shit, asshole.’

He chuckled, his chest vibrating against my back. He thought I was kidding each time I brought it up, but I wasn’t. I wanted him to have those experiences, to allow his body to perform and find release the way it desired, to experience the pleasure he clearly needed that I simply did not. It was a work in progress, but with Artemis now in the picture, I was sure things would work out perfectly.

CHAPTER 27

Reece

Ifelt like a little kid fighting over a new toy. Except I was an only child and Arty wasn’t a toy to be fought over. After learning about what had transpired between Arty and Bromm, I could understand from an objective viewpoint how the Griknot royal believed himself entitled to hoarding him for himself, but that wasn’t going to sit well with me.

I hadn’t been able to get Arty alone for days now. I had watched him slowly descend into a kind of misery I could never understand. We’d all heard his screams the day before, the way he sobbed and yelled and begged any deity that would listen to make it all stop.

What he needed to stop, however, was still a mystery, and I wanted nothing more than to stand in its way so it could never reach my friend again.

I never used the word ‘friend’ lightly. I’d had so few of them throughout the years – and even less were genuine – that I was meticulous about the people I chose to surround myself with.

Arty, though… he snuck up on me. When I’d first witnessed him laughing to himself in at the ship’s boarding gate I’d written him off as a weirdo that I wouldn’t want anything to do with. Who wants to be friends with the weird, quiet kid that laughs at nothing in the corner? Not me.

But then I got to know him a little better. Bit by bit he had begun to let me in, and I saw a man worth fighting for. Sure, he was quiet, but it was a contemplative silence. He wasn’t just sitting there blankly staring at a wall, he was taking in his surroundings, listening and processing. There was a hidden substance to him that was difficult to see at first, but once you got a glimpse it was undeniable and impossible not to notice.

That’s what drew me in initially. He seemed kind and polite, but it was vague and distant at the same time. He was holding himself apart from everyone else not because he believed himself more important or special like those I’d grown up around, but because he believed himself to be a danger to those around him.

The pieces hadn’t come together with long, vulnerable talks or any notable action. Instead, they slowly clicked into place by observing the way he behaved when he thought no one was watching. The way he reverted into his own mind and could stay there for hours on end. The way he was up before everyone, washed and ready to go so he could be present and available at all times. Even when his shadows got the best of him and he snapped, he was still conscious of those around him and his desire to keep us all safe from those demons overruled his need to let someone else help him vanquish them.

Brin was on the same page as me, and Bromm was very nearly there, though his understanding of Arty was still a little lacking. Regardless, he stepped up and wanted to be there for him as a friend, if not as a lover like he’d apparently previously intended.

That was still a shock. Arty’s preferences were one of the first personal things I had discovered about him. He was blatantly into men, and everyone knew it, but I hadn’t thought anyone within our team was genuinely attracted to him. He wasn’t a bad looking guy or anything, though he did look younger than most. His features were distinctly feminine. Delicate features, slim build, and those fuck-me eyes he had when he first woke up in the mornings that even had me questioning my sexuality every now and then… if Nova Academy didn’t exclusively accepted males I would have believed him to be a woman.

I didn’t want to look too closely into the emotions that arose when I thought about the two of them together. Arty and Bromm… it made sense and it didn’t. If I hadn’t seen Bromm’s concern over Arty’s wellbeing with my own two eyes I never would have believe hewas serious. When Brin had cornered him and forced the truth from him, I hadn’t wanted to believe it. I hadn’t seen anything from the prince to prove he was anything but a typical Griknot: a player, there to get off and get you off, then gone the next day. Maybe that’s how it started, I didn’t know and I wasn’t there to comment, but it was clear now as he piled a plate a mile high for the other man that he wasn’t messing about.

There was some consolation in that. I wasn’t sure how, with the group’s dynamics still in its formative stages, it would affect us all if something more were to happen between the two regularly… or permanently. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Bromm and Foryk weren’t a couple, the platonic nature of their relationship made more evident by their notable lack of physical affection compared to the amount Bromm was showering over Arty.

It was sweet, but I still kept an eye on Arty’s expressions and body language. I didn’t want Bromm to accidentally set him off again by overwhelming him so soon when he was still so emotionally raw.

And that’s all it was. He bottled up his feelings, letting them build and build until there was no more room to contain them. And then he’d explode, everyone in the vicinity would get covered in his emotional gore, and then the process would start all over again. I was no psychologist, but it was clear to see he had a strong case of post-traumatic stress. I had seen it time and time again back home. The males of the community I’d been raised in were forced to internalise a toxic perspective on masculinity. Don’t show emotions, you’re better than the poor, weak women who looked up to us and relied upon us to take care of them. It was an archaic practice to teach the new generations, but it was happening all the same.

We wouldn’t find out any time soon what Arty’s specific triggers were, but I would make damn sure we were there to support himregardless. The last thing any of us wanted was for him to turn into another Tarren Christianson.

Blech.Tarren. I would never stop lamenting how I could never seem to be rid of the man.

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