Page 10 of Shattered Stars
“You’re going to need to watch your back, little piggie. She’s going to come at you with everything she has now.”
“I’m not scared of a bully like her.” Not when I have far more menacing enemies out to get me and far more dangerous complications plaguing my life.
“Maybe you’d be wise not to make so many enemies,” he says, clearly thinking the same thing I am.
“It seems to come naturally to me,” I say, smiling flatly and holding his gaze. He’s shed his usual bored persona. His eyes are just like that tiger’s today. Intelligent, predatory, challenging.
“Why do you want to go into Los Magicos?” he asks, with a jerk of his chin, his hands deep inside the pockets of his sweatpants.
“I don’t actually think that is any of your business, Tristan.”
He begins to pace across the room in obvious agitation, my bond tugging after him as he moves. It’s so clear. I can’t be wrong about it. I can’t be wrong about the way he makes me feel. Against my will. I don’t want to feel that way about him. I want to hate him.
“You want the slip, then you tell me the reason.”
I know there is no point arguing. The more I fight, the longer this will take. If I play along, the quicker I get out of here. And I want to get out of here. The sensations in my gut are unbearable and I don’t want to believe that this is real. I want to stay as far away from him as I can and convince myself it’s not.
“I’m going to see Azlan,” I tell him.
He hesitates for one second before turning to frown at me, the intensity when our gazes lock making me step away from him.
“Why can’t he come and see you here?”
“It would look strange if the enforcer was seen here at the academy again so soon after the match.”
“Azlan doesn’t care about that shit.”
“He cares about me,” I say.
Tristan’s eyes flit all around my face. “He’s coming to collect you?”
“I’m going to take the bus.”
He scoffs. “The bus? It’s not safe.”
“It’s perfectly fine.” I scowl at him. “I’ve told you where I’m going and why. Can I have my slip now?”
“He should be coming to collect you,” he growls.
“He’s going to meet me right off the bus.”
“You have Renzo fucking Barone–”
“I’m aware.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. It isn’t safe. I’m inclined to deny your request.”
“Azlan–”
“Azlan is a fool,” he snaps, twisting away from me so I’m given another view of his broad back and the bruise resting across his shoulder. “Funny, he never used to be. It must be your influence.”
“Nothing to do with me. It must be a familial trait,” I snap back.
We’re both quiet for a moment and my eyes stray right back to that bruise, so dark against his golden skin.
“Matron missed a bruise,” I can’t help blurting out, “on your back.” It looks so painful, so brutal. The only flaw on his otherwise perfect body.
“What?” he says, shaking his head as if he’s attempting to shake away the thoughts in his mind.
