Page 89 of Wicked Dove
I blink at him. That’s nothing like what I anticipated him saying. This must be some alternate universe. Either way, I cock a brow at him. “Are you forgetting how you acted after you healed my face? Or what about when you gave me these?” I push, lifting my hands to indicate my gloves.
His tongue flicks out over his bottom lip. “That was before I understood,” he states, and I scoff, certain he must be joking, but when I stare into his eyes, I can see the truth he believes in.
“Understood what?” I mutter, irritated with myself for entertaining him instead of shutting him down altogether.
“The reason why you are here.”
“And why am I here?” I breathe, uncertainty warring inside me.
“For me.”
I blink at him, waiting for the joke to come, but nothing does. I snicker, the feeling raspy in my chest as I shake my head at him. “Wow. I actually thought you had a reason. I didn’t realize you were just as self-absorbed as the rest.”
He purses his lips as he pushes to his feet, hands slipping into his pockets as his hair falls over his eyes. “Take your gloves off.”
I sigh, turning away from him. “I said I don’t want your help,” I remind him, but he doesn’t falter.
“It wasn’t an offer, it’s an insistence.”
I snap my gaze to his. “Listen, Thorne, you’re hot, infuriating, and an enigma, and I’m sure that works with the rest of the female population, but not today, and definitely not with me,” I grumble, shoving to my feet with a reluctant sigh.
It’s clear I’m not going to get any more peace here. I’ll have to look for another spot. The second I turn my back on him, dark smoke swarms my surroundings, blanketing me in his darkness. I turn to face him, fearful he won’t actually be there, but he is, standing tall, proud, and menacing.
“Thorne,” I warn, but he ignores me, the air growing thicker and colder as panic rushes down my spine like spiders climbing under my skin. “Thorne,” I repeat, tears threatening to burst free as I wrap my arms around my chest. He does nothing but raise an eyebrow at me, silently telling me what he wants.
Anger coils inside me as my teeth start to chatter, and my pride evaporates into the darkness as I wrench my gloves off and toss them at his feet. “Happy now?” I bite, tears finally breaking free and tracking down my face.
I don’t know what I’m afraid of, I just know it’s anchored deep in my chest, and it’s all because of him.
“Do it to me,” he orders, eliminating the distance between us, and I frown at him.
I shake my head. “Whatever you’re doing, make it stop,” I splutter, and he sighs.
“Use your magic on me,” he insists, and despite the horror that clings to me and the need to make it end, I can’t bring myself to do it.
“No,” I whisper, trying to take a step back, but my feet are frozen in place.
“Do it,” he pushes as tears stream down my face in full force.
“I said no,” I insist, but he only crowds me more, to the point I start to lose my balance.
Instinctively, I push against him before I fall on my ass, but the second my hands connect with his chest, we both freeze. His eyes flash white as his head tips back, and I gape in fear as the black smoke that consumes us swirls faster and faster, as if we’re in the eye of a violent storm. With every spiral around us, the darkness begins to fade, first to a deep charcoal gray, then gunmetal, before it shimmers like silver.
I gape in wonder until the smoke completely disappears and Institute Three comes back into view. Stumbling back from Thorne, my legs give out, but he breaks my fall before I collapse in a heap at his feet. I feel exhausted, tormented, and on the brink of passing out, but if he notices, he doesn’t make it known. Instead, he pins me to his chest as he breathes against my lips. “See? Here for me,” he whispers, and I shake my head, disoriented and depleted.
“I don’t understand,” I mutter, curling my fingers around his arms as I try to get steady on my feet.
“Neither do I,” he admits, making me gulp as I manage to take a step back, putting some much needed distance between us. He doesn’t reach for me again as I rub my hands up anddown my arms in a bid to rid the chill from my bones, but it’s futile.
“Don’t do that again,” I murmur, no longer interested in what the hell this is or what on Earth he thinks it might be. I’m over it.
“Don’t do what?” he asks, eyes slightly wide in confusion, and I scoff, but there’s no bite to it. I don’t have the strength.
“Don’t ever push me for your own gain like that again, or it will be me remindingyouwhy we’re all sentenced to Institute Thirteen.”
TWENTY-NINE
RION
