Page 36 of Wicked Dove
In light of whatever jolted me back, I don't think I am brave enough to try again just yet, and it is the only lead I have. Reluctant, but aware, I know I have to go back. Refusing to be in his presence any longer than necessary, I take a deep breath and stalk ahead, walking right past him with my head held high.
I remain silent, acutely aware of his eyes following my every move as I trudge toward the exit of Institute Twelve and find the gate open.
Asshole.
Although, I’m thankful I don’t have to reclimb that damn fence since I've already got blood trailing down one leg. Hurrying along on the pathway, I turn toward Thirteen; my new home. It’s my only option. I can’t head into The Vale looking like this.
It's only when I'm halfway there that I dare glance over my shoulder, and when I do, my skin prickles when I find Rion staring at my ass. My gaze runs from his eyes to his neck, noting the claw marks that sit puckered against his skin.
I wonder what they’d feel like beneath my fingertips.
Shaking my head, the frustration I feel toward him multiplies as I get mad at myself too.
“You can go away now,” I snap, and he smirks.
“Are you sure? It looks like your leg could use some help,” he murmurs, but I wave him off, turning away from him and back toward the Institute, trying to quicken my pace.
I make it to the double doors, ready to be led to my doom, when Rion calls out my name again.
“Elodie.” Despite my desire to pretend he doesn’t exist, I look back again. “Be careful of Kael,” he warns, and I shake my head.
“There's nothing to be careful of,” I insist. Besides, isn’t that his friend?
“Of course not, but playing with Kael is like playing with fire, and a petal never lasts long in the flames.”
ELEVEN
ELODIE
Iblink at myself in the mirror, unsure where to focus my eyes first.
“I think I hate it, Ocean,” I blurt, and she giggles from beside me, flipping her cute blonde braid back over her shoulder.
“You only think? Honey, if you don't downright hate it, then this place hasn’t got to you yet.”
“I don't want any more of it,” I insist as she pats my shoulder in sympathy.
“Suck it up. There are too many vultures out there. They’ll be able to sniff out your vulnerabilities and weaknesses in a flash. Then they’ll snack on them for their own amusement.”
I gulp at the truth in her words as I stare at my reflection. Starting at my feet, I take stock of myself. Black, polished shoes, charcoal-gray socks that stop at my knees, a black pleated skirt, a white, silk shirt tucked in, and a black blazer with aubergine-purple stitching make up my outfit for the day. I’m not sure if it beats the white top and shorts I’ve been living in, but either way, I don’t like it. Not even the emblem of what I believe is Institute Thirteen, which is stitched onto the breast pocket with that same purple thread.
My gaze dips to my legs as I turn, looking over my shoulder to check my cut from yesterday. It’s cleaned up better than I thought it would, but the thick red mark is unmistakable. Hopefully, no one cares what happened to me. Ocean didn’t even ask. It’s like she already knew.
Turning my attention from my reflection to my roommate’s, I gape in disbelief. How are we dressed exactly the same, yet she manages to make it look way freaking cuter. My purple hair clashes with the aubergine, the socks make me look paler, and the skirt sits way too short up my thighs.
Not that I get a say in any of it; it was all here waiting for me yesterday after Rion marched me back.
Running a hand through my hair, I try to tame the frizzy curls around my face as Ocean touches up her makeup. I also returned to find a supply of cosmetics, but I don’t even know where to begin. Making myself look pretty has never really been an option, and even if it was, it was always the cheapest products off the shelves that always made me look orange. I’m not making that mistake here. I'm sure there will be enough people judging me today as it is. I don’t want to add the state of my face to the list, too.
My stomach growls, interrupting my train of thought and serving as a reminder that I still haven’t eaten since I arrived.
“Hungry?” Ocean asks, and I nod.
She shakes her head. “That's what you get for trying to make a run for it.” She glances at her watch, then points over her shoulder. “Let's head out now so you can eat.”
I nod, but the churning in my stomach twists into something else. “I don't know if The Vale is going to be for me,” I admit, and she frowns.
“Why not?”
