Page 41 of Wicked Dove
My fingers flex around her arm as I glare down at her. “Not with a gash like that, you're not,” I grunt, and she shrugs as she discreetly tries to pull her arm free again, but it doesn't work. “You'll find yourself in the medical center,” I warn, but she simply shrugs again.
“That sounds better than dealing with you or going to class. Besides, it will probably work better than whatever you might be trying to do.”
I snicker, the sound hollow as I shake my head. “The medical center will be a whole lot more painful and do very little to heal the damage she's actually done,” I grind out, irritated with her resistance.
I take a moment to assess her, but it’s impossible not to stare at the blood that drips down her cheek and over her throat, staining her white silk shirt. It's deep, about as deep as what I imagined Rion's scar was when it was first made. He didn't have a shadow fae to aid him, just a medical center. Does she want that for herself too?
“A lot more painful in comparison to what? You?” she asks as Kael and Rion stroll out of the dining hall with Ocean hot on their tails.
“What's going on?” Kael asks, and I sigh.
“She wants to be scarred for life,” I mutter, and Kael grunts in frustration.
“You're going to go with Thorne. It's an order,” he bites, his brows furrowing as he stares at the mess Willow made ofher face, but if he’s shocked by her lack of hysteria or pain, he doesn’t show it.
It’s clear he knows more about the girl before us than I do. A fact I didn’t care to ask about when I saw her this morning or realized he had returned in one piece. If he doesn’t want to share, it’s not my place to ask, but this might be different. I might need to know.
She laughs, shaking her head dismissively, despite the pain she doesn't seem to be feeling over such an intense wound, which doesn't make sense. “It's a mess because of you,” she bites back, finger aimed at my friend, who splutters in surprise; a state I've never quite seen Kael in before.
“How do you figure that?” he grunts, and I can't deal with his erratic emotions on top of everything else right now.
So instead, I try my luck, release my hold on her arm, and give her the freedom she seeks. I nod for her to follow me, and although she nibbles on her bottom lip with concern, she silently moves after me.
I'm rattled to the core. Here I am passing judgment on Kael’s erratic behavior when I feel just as insane myself. With every step I take, the words that have been imprinted into my soul repeat in my mind as if this is what I'm meant to be doing, like this is where I'm meant to be.
They will rise with fire in their bones and ruin in their wake, step the shadows that you reap and give more than you shall take. Blood shall bind you, love shall break you. Only in the face of death shall the path be clear; the world mourns with the final tear.
Those words… they've followed me throughout my life. I will never forget them. They were the last words spoken to me before I arrived here, and they’ll stick with me until my last breath.
I shake them off for now, though. They’re not helping me think properly. It seems, around this new addition to Institute Thirteen, I need all the sense I can get.
I head toward the academic building, where all our lessons take place. The heavy wooden doors are perched at the top of three deep steps, and I race up them, not bothering to hold the door open for her as I make my way through the sea of students.
As I step inside, the smell of rich, waxed wood fills the air, washing over me like the heavy restraint I know it to be. I take the hallway to my left, marching to the end before I glance over my shoulder. She's only four steps behind and the others are nowhere to be seen. Considering that classes are about to begin this morning, I opt to move to the right, spying an empty classroom two doors down.
Barging inside, I flick the light switch on and wave her in. She comes freely and I slam the door shut behind us just as Kael and Rion appear on the other side of the glass.
“Let us in,” Kael grunts, and I shake my head.
“Stay the fuck out.”
“Thorne,” Rion warns, and I shake my head before reaching for the little string that pulls the blinds down.
“Stay. Out,” I repeat, pulling them closed as I turned the lock, securing the two of us in the room.
Turning back to the object of my curiosity, my gaze latches onto the wound that continues to ooze blood down her face. Yet here she stands, unfazed. My pulse throbs, my mind chanting the same two words over and over and over again.
Kill her. Kill her. Kill her.
Nobody should be able to stand there like that, all wounded without feeling an ounce of pain. I can sense her emotions, the uncertainty of being in this room alone with me, a feeling she has every right to, but whatever she’s destined to awaken in me isn’t what I want or need.
“What are you?” I snap, and she rears back in surprise, hand flying to her chest as she shakes her head at me.
“That's rude.”
I roll my eyes at her in irritation. “Don't pretend like Ocean didn't tell you who I am.”
She shrugs, her eyes darting to the left, fixated on the chalkboard that hasn’t been used since I've been here, but now it seems to hold her attention more than I do.
