Page 72 of An Enigma for the Lycan Crown Prince
You always say that and never mean it,Regis mutters.Like we don’t share a mind.
Well, it’s not making things easier to deal with your and my feelings at the same time,I point out.
I was just so mad,he says.
I know, I am too. But we can’t let our anger control us.
Regis falls silent again which I am thankful for. I want my head to myself for a couple of hours. Without realizing it, I suddenly find myself in front of Vincent’s door.
I knock at his door. “It’s me,” I say, hoping he is at home. “Can we talk?”
“Hey man, finally you are dropping by. You know it was getting awkward, tiptoeing around whatever happened when you came home yesterday.” Vincent rips the door open. “Just for the record, I am not going to hold back now. You need to share whatever-” he pauses as if the words got stuck in his throat.
“Can I crash here tonight?” I ask.
Vincent stares at me. “What the fuck happened to you?” He ushers me inside his suite and closes the door. “Who did that? I will kick that asshole from here to the next pack.”
“The only asshole I can’t beat yet,” I say. “Regis and I are counting the days until I’m old enough and have his full strength.”
“That was your dad,” Vincent says, shocked.
“Flora will be furious,” I say quietly. “She is only one step away from taking it up with him. I don’t want to risk her safety. Let’s just not make a big deal out of it.”
“Are you kidding me? This is a big deal, you are fucking bleeding.”
“Vince, I am tired,” I say. “Reallytired. Do whatever you want, but leave off the complaints.”
“Drinks,” Vincent mutters. “We need something to drink.”
“Isn’t tomorrow a school day for you?” I ask.
Vincent looks at me, annoyed. “I can’t believe you.”
I chuckle slightly at his disgruntled expression, but the movement makes new blood spill from my lip.
Vincent grabs a small mirror and hands it to me. “I assume, when I tell you to please go to the infirmary, you will get pissed.”
I take a look at my reflection, noticing how a nasty bruise is building right where my father backhanded me, and my lip is split. “Regis is getting stronger every day; he will heal me.”
Vincent throws his hands in the air. “Not what I wanted to hear.” He tilts his head. “Fine, you are lucky. Your buddy has a first-aid kit here and did a first-aid class once.”
I eye him skeptically while he retrieves said kit. “When exactly did you do that class?”
“Well, it’s been a while, but you know what they say. You never forget-”
“A while?” I interrupt him. “What? Was that in kindergarten?”
“Primary school!” he huffs.
“I am letting someone patch me up who took a first-aid class in primary school?” I deadpan.
“It’s that or the infirmary,” Vincent says.
“Fair enough,” I sigh, “you win.”
I doubt Vincent truly knows what he is doing, but he has a disinfectant that burns awfully on my lip and something for the bruising. I guess there isn’t too much he can do wrong. For minutes, neither of us talks until Vincent hands me some ice for my face.
Sadness fills me all of sudden, shoving aside the numbness that I was feeling ever since I walked out of my father’s office.
