Page 55 of Twisted Ties
“Find a space in the meadow, away from other pairs. It really is better if you don’t have any distractions. And let’s get started. This really is a case of giving it a go.” Dr. Johnson waves her hands at us and most pairs head off eagerly to find a spot in the meadow, whispering about why they’ve been picked for each other.
I sigh and peer Tristan’s way. He’s still glaring at me, although he doesn’t move. Neither do I.
“Come on, you two,” Dr. Johnson says, giving my shoulder a nudge. “Off you go. Look there’s a spot down there, by the edge of the meadow. A perfect spot.”
“This is a load of–” Tristan begins. But, unlike Summer, Dr. Johnson seems to be one of the few teachers who doesn’t think the sun shines out of Tristan Kennedy’s ass.
“Very essential knowledge that a magical like you will find extremely beneficial one day, I’m sure. Your father and his brother are extremely skilled at this practice as I’m sure you are aware.”
Something flashes in Tristan’s eyes and then he’s trudging down to the far side of the meadow.
I watch him go.
“Miss Blackwaters, if you want to avoid ending up in detention with me again, then I suggest you move your heinie!”
Reluctantly, I follow Tristan through the long grass and wildflowers; by the time I catch up with him, he’s already lying out on the ground, his left elbow resting on one bent leg. He looks like something straight out of an aftershave commercial.
He refuses to look at me, twisting a blade of grass around his fingers instead.
I cross my arms and peer around the meadow, looking at all the other pairs linking hands, some enthusiastically, others with hesitation.
“You know, this is a big improvement, the not-talking-to-me. I think my quality of life is going to be greatly improved. Your father has done me a massive favor.”
He snorts, winding the grass ever more tightly around his fingers, bleaching his fingertips white.
“Although I have to say, I’m surprised. I didn’t take you for the type to obey orders.”
His gaze leaps up to mine. “You really do talk a lot of bullshit, piggie. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about most of the time.”
I smirk at him. “If Daddy knew …”
He lumbers to his feet and takes a stride towards me. “My father doesn’t think you’re worthy of my attention. I happen to agree with him. You’re a speck of inconsequential dirt. I don’t know what crap you pulled with my cousin, but I won’t let you ruin our family name, the way you are going to ruin his life.”
“If Azlan heard you speak like that to me …” I whisper, the bond – that hook – yanking in my belly. Through the bond, I feel Azlan awaken once again, like he’s aware of all the emotions this conversation is stirring in my mind.
Tristan throws back his head and laughs, a noise that causes the people nearest to us to look away from one another and towards us. “Azlan said as much to my face, Blackwaters. You think he’s happy to be mated to a magical like you?”
His words hit me like a slap to the face.
I swallow it all down, not wanting him to see how much they smart me. But it’s too late. He’s seen. And now it’s his turn to smirk at me.
“What? You seriously thought he was pleased?” He takes another step towards me until he’s close enough that I can see the pulse jumping in his throat and the myriad of blues in his eyes. “You’re a nobody,” he hisses right into my words.
“I’m Rhianna Blackwaters,” I hiss right back, and to my surprise he grabs my hands in his, electricity sparking from his skin to mine and my magic rearing up from the pit of my stomach to meet his.
“What are you doing?” I try to yank my hands away.
“Let’s see what you’ve got then, Blackwaters.”
My magic practically fizzes in my veins at the challenge.
“I’d rather eat shit than combine my magic with yours.”
“Really?” he says, with another of those lazy smirks, “because I can feel your magic. It’s practically salivating at the opportunity to touch mine.” He closes his eyes.
“You’re delusional,” I say, except I can feel his magic too and as my eyes drift shut, I can see it as well. Blue like his eyes and swirling in the air. It’s vivid and distinct, powerful. I screw up my brow. I don’t understand how I can see this.
“Fuck,” he mutters and I wonder if he’s seeing something similar or whether I’ve somehow pissed him off just through the power of my existence.
