Page 39 of Black Onyx
Mayhem smirks, I’ve just spent most of the lesson fighting with this guy, and I don’t even know his name. Damn, my people skills are rusty.
“It’s Zev,” he answers me.
I nod like I knew it, and I was just testing them; judging from their amused looks, I don’t fool any of them, “Right, Zev. As I was saying, we could try and catch up with Zev and see if there’s anything he can tell us.”
“There’s no harm in trying. I want to talk to him anyway, he’s fucking strong, and I don’t understand why he’s been put in some of the lower level classes.” Reaper frowns.
“What do you mean? I didn’t realise you knew him?” Storm asks.
“I don’t, not really, but I’ve seen him around, and other than this class, he’s in the bottom set for almost everything. Just from his use of his gift fighting against Farren, I can tell that’s not right.”
“He said the other students have been giving him shit because he’s lowborn,” I sneer at the phrase, “is it possible that the teachers are doing it too?”
“They shouldn’t, but too many of them have forgotten the original purpose of this academy and now take bribes from various nobles, so it wouldn’t surprise me.” Reaper replies.
“Well, add it to the list of shit we need to talk to him about.” Storm grumbles.
Chapter Twelve
“Alright, class is over. Pack up.” The instructor yells, and I realise I completely forgot we were in class.
“What’s next?” I ask as we make our way toward the changing rooms.
“Dinner,” Loki grins with an excited skip in his step.
With a start, I realise that I’m feeling hungry, which is a strange new development that I haven’t actually felt properly for years; thanks to the regular bouts of starvation that my father put me through, my body got so used to being permanently starved that I just didn’t feel hunger like ordinary people would. I think that because I’ve been eating regularly during my stay here so far, it’s starting to bring my body's natural instincts back online.
Which is great, except it means it’s going to be so much harder and more painful to get my body used to not eating again when my father inevitably summons me back to the estate.
“We’ll wait for you out here, Farren.” Loki smiles gently, and I nod, splitting off from them to go into the female changing room.
“I’ll meet you guys in the dining hall; I’ve got to do something first.” I hear Storm say to the guys.
I can’t help but look over my shoulder at them and see Storm with a purely devilish smirk on his face. It almost knocks the breath out of me. His face completely changes from cold and stoic to distractingly handsome.
“Don’t, Storm,” Rival warns seriously, and Storm’s expression turns into his usual glare.
I know I’m not going to want to deal with whatever comes out of his mouth next, so I carry on through the door to the changing room, my mind switching back to food. Fortunately, for me at least, there are very few female students in our combat class, and the few that are in our class are as content to ignore me as I am them, which means I don’t have to try and make small talk or offend them when I simply ignore their attempts at conversation.
By the time I get back out into the hallway, the guys are all there waiting, minus Storm, but none of them look too happy. Whatever Storm is off doing, they clearly don’t approve of; however, I’m not curious enough to ask.
“Let’s go eat. I’m fucking starving.” Loki wines, grabbing my hand and threading his fingers through mine as he starts to pull me along.
My eyes dart from his hand wrapped around mine and back up to the side of his face repeatedly until the corner of his lips tilt up slightly, and I can tell that he’s aware of my confusion. Instead of saying anything though, he just starts to rub his thumb over the back of my hand gently, the gesture is soothing, and I find myself liking it.
The hallways are packed with students and teachers all rushing to the dining hall to get their food, and I don’t miss the eyes that land on us, giving us a wide berth. Well, I say us, but really it's them. If I were walking through this hallway by myself, I’d very quickly be swamped and most likely knocked over. There’s an air about the guys though, even when they’re relaxed like they are now, that people just instinctively avoid.
It's not until we’re in the dining hall seated and waiting for the food to arrive that Storm finally waltzes into the room. I want to say that I wasn’t acutely aware that he wasn’t here, but that would be an outright lie, and the more often I looked towards the door to see if he’d arrived, the deeper the concern etched into the other's faces. I’m probably making it obvious that I have some kind of feelings for him, which makes absolutely no fucking sense because he's an absolute arsehole who clearly views me as lower than shit on his bloody boot. I, however, never claimed that it made sense for me to feel something for him. In fact, I’m not even entirely sure what I feel for him. I do know that I have feelings edging towards like for the others and absolutely lust.
I’d challenge anyone not to have lusty thoughts about these fuckers though they’re all power and deliciousness.
Despite myself, I start to smile slightly at Storm until my eyes move away from his face to land on the women he has under each arm, both tall, slim, blond and the complete opposite of me.
Not that it should matter.
A spear of white-hot jealousy rages through me and leaves a sick, bubbling mess in my stomach in its wake. Before Storm can catch me looking at him and decipher the look on my face, I turn back to the table, keeping my eyes down. I’m not willing to look at any of the others in case they can see the irrational jealousy and hurt that I'm currently fighting to push down.
I have no idea why I feel like this. I have no claim over him. He’s never even hinted that he likes me in any way. I shouldn’t be feeling like this, feeling like I’m watching someone who really means something to me, someone who I’ve known for years, not just a few days, go out of their way to hurt me. It feels like a betrayal, and it makes no fucking sense.
