Page 49 of Taste of Thorns
I pull the golden collar from my pocket, where it’s been burning a long-worn hole these last few months, and lay it flat out on my desk. Then I stare at it, my thoughts as usual occupied with the woman who drives me to distraction.
“She’s really fucking annoyed with you,” Dray says from the doorway observing me. “Can’t you just swallow your damn pride, Beau, and go say sorry? My balls are about to fucking explode!”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I mumble, running my forefinger along the soft material of the collar.
“You were an asshole.”
“That’s just who I am.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t like it.”
“Because she’s being stubborn and she can’t accept the truth,” I say, picking the collar up and stuffing it back into my pocket. Dray and I have had this same conversation at least three times already. It’s clear he isn’t going to leave me in peace to mope.
“She’sbeing stubborn?” he scoffs.
“Yes.”
“The way I see it, you’re both as stubborn as each other.”
“There are unseen forces moving in the academy, forces moving against Briony in order to get to us. She should be taking more precautions. That includes being careful with Tudor. Don’t pretend you disagree with me about this, Dray.”
“Yeah, but Tudor’s her fated mate. She was never going to agree to staying away from him.”
I rake my hand through my hair.
“Yeah, then I need to know whose side he is on.”
I jump up from my desk and storm down the staircase.
“Are you going to make it up to her?” Dray calls after me eagerly.
I don’t answer him. I grab my jacket and plunge out into the cold, dark night.
Fox isn’t lurking down in his dungeon of a classroom like usual and for a moment I’m at a loss as to where he could be. Then it dawns on me. There’s one other place I’ve seen him.
I walk back across the campus, crashing through the door of the deserted gymnasium and find him smacking his fists into one of the hanging punch bags.
Just like last time he doesn’t seem surprised to see me.
“We have to stop meeting like this, Lincoln,” he says, catching the swinging bag between his bare hands, “people will talk.”
“Are you sleeping with Bardin?” I bark at him, firing a volley of shadows his way.
He lifts his arm to deflect my shots.
“That isn’t what I was expecting you to ask me.”
“Are you?”
“No,” he says, frowning like he’s genuinely insulted by the idea.
“But you two used to be a thing.”
“A long time ago.”
“And how about now?”
He huffs and smacks a one-two into the belly of the bag. “No.”
