Page 100 of Taste of Thorns
“I get grouchy?!” he says, outraged. Then adds, “Do you want me to get you anything? It’s sprints this morning.”
I flop back on the bed. “Life is so cruel.”
“I’ll get you some toast,” he tells me.
Ten minutes later, I drag myself from my bed, throw on my tracksuit, and stomp over to the field where most of the other students are waiting.
I don’t know what is going to be worse this morning, facing Beaufort and Henrietta or facing them with the entire academy watching us and gossiping about it.
I keep my gaze focused right ahead, out across the field towards the forest, even when Fly jams a piece of cold toast in my hands. But my curiosity gets the better of me eventually, and when the shadow weavers turn up, I can’t help peeking that way. I’m half expecting to find Beaufort and Henrietta hand-in-hand or pawing all over each other.
I spot Dray bouncing along, surrounded by the other shifters. I see Thorne lurking several paces away from everyone else. I even see Linette Smyte talking quietly to her thrall. I don’t see Beaufort. I scour the group of shadow weavers again, then look through the waiting ordinaries.
He’s not here.
Neither is Henrietta.
A sick sensation spins through my stomach. I really do feel nauseous now.
Are they together?
Several intrusive images float through my head. Of them together in Beaufort’s bed.
That same bitter jealousy I’d experienced with Fox returns with a vengeance.
It takes me by surprise. I’ve never been a victim of this feeling before. Even when my life was seriously shit and I had every reason in the world to be envious of other people, I didn’t havethe time or motivation for it – I was too busy surviving the day to day.
Is this what happens when you become a pampered princess? You suddenly have time for all the petty feelings.
I have no time to mull any further though, because the twins are marching towards us and blowing the whistle for the men to start running. As usual, Dray and Thorne shoot off in front of the others and once the last straggler crosses the field, the whistle is blowing for the women.
With a little wave to Clare, I take a deep inhale and set off. The snow has thawed overnight, leaving the field wet and boggy. Soon my boots are covered in a thick mud weighing down my legs and I’m panting harder than usual, wishing I’d had a proper breakfast and not just a nibble on that toast.
I hang back from the Iron Quarter girls, not fancying another altercation, and wait for them to pass under the trees. I follow, pleased to find the ground a lot firmer here.
I’ve only run a few steps further when a massive white wolf comes bounding towards me, its tail wagging from side to side.
Dray.
I come to a grinding halt.
The wolf doesn’t. He skips right up to me and takes a mouthful of sweater between his powerful jaws.
“What the hell are you doing?” I screech.
The wolf doesn’t stop, it drags me along and I am not strong enough to stop it.
“Stop,” I yell, as he pulls me off the path, through the scrub and deeper into the trees.
I’m about to shrug off my sweater and run in the opposite direction, when he lets me go and I stumble backwards onto my ass. In a moment, the wolf is on me, licking at my face in a manner that reminds me of Blaze.
“Dray,” I say, “please stop.”
The wolf stills, and gazes right into my eyes. His are colorful, like Dray’s, and I wonder how I never realized it was him.
He holds my gaze and transforms into a human in front of me. It’s so quick I barely spot the process. One moment wolf, the next human.
“Hey, Kitten,” he says eagerly, crouched down in front of me with absolutely no clothing on at all.
