Page 68 of Wicked Dove
“I’m sorry,” I say when I can finally catch my breath, and he frowns.
“Sorry? Everyone says I was the lucky one,” he bites, and I scoff, the sound weak as I gape at him.
“There is nothing lucky about being unable to defend your homeland or your family when your world is crumbling around you.”
My words hang in the air, locking our gazes together, and with every breath I take, my heart rate kicks up a notch. I feel dizzy standing off with him, but I can’t bring myself to move.
“You need to leave now,” he suddenly grunts, and it’s like he frees me from the spot I was trapped in.
I dart for the door without a second of hesitation, recalling the time he ordered me to stay away from him in the empty classroom. I should tell him it’s his fault I’m in here to begin with, but I’d rather save myself from any more of his wrath. I twist the door handle and it opens effortlessly, but before I can step into the lounge, he calls out my name, and I pause.
“Don’t forget these.”
Peering back at him, he approaches with a pair of gloves in his hand.
“What are they for?” I murmur, confusion rising as his black eyes swirl with flecks of charcoal.
“They will stop you from siphoning anyone when you’re wearing them.”
“Thank you.” I don’t know whether I like the idea of them or not, but it could definitely be helpful in ensuring I remain benign and seen as less of a threat.
“Don’t thank me. I just don’t want to have to drain my magic by having to redact you and your magic from everyone’s memory.”
I blink at him as he shoves the gloves against my chest. “I?—”
“Get the fuck out,” he snarls, and I run, charging at the locked door with apprehension fueling my every step, but it swings open with ease as I launch myself out into the hallway. I don’t stop, not until I’m on the other side of my bedroom doorwith Ocean sitting on her bed, blinking at me with a hint of amusement in her eyes.
I sag back against the door, gloves firmly in my grasp along with my blazer and shoes as I try to breathe, a task that proves more and more difficult in Thorne’s presence.
“Hey,” she murmurs, swinging her legs over the side of her bed.
“Hey, sorry I didn’t?—”
She waves me off before I can get myself worked up any more than I already am.
“Rion stopped by,” she explains, and I nod as a scoff parts my lips.
“Of course he did,” I grumble, unsure of how I feel about him doing that.
“I’m going to assume it wasn’t him who put that look on your face,” she states, and I stare at her with wide eyes, trying to act as casual as possible.
“What look?”
“Panic,” she admits, and I grimace.
“Thorne.”
“That makes more sense,” she says with a grin, rising to her feet as she brushes off the lapels of her jacket. “Ready to go?”
I stare down at myself, aware I need to get ready for classes. I already cut out on afternoon lessons yesterday, so I don’t want to make anything else worse for myself. I’ve already got my hands full with the assholes across the hall.
“Can you give me ten minutes?” I ask, and she nods.
“For sure.”
I hurry into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me as I drop everything I’m holding and dart toward the sink. Turning the faucet on, I splash water on my face, but it does nothing to calm the swirling emotions inside of me.
I get the feeling I’m going to need longer than ten minutes. I don’t think even ten years will be enough time.
