his seat, breathing hard. “Take your goddamn hands off of her unless you want to lose them!”
“Come on now, Bron. You made the mistake of befriending her brother, don’t repeat that mistake.”
Mistake? How dare he speak about my brother like that! I slowly open my hands and reveal them to the class.
“Apparently you’re the one who’s made a mistake,” I say, drawing out each word.
The tension fades and the students are no longer looking at me, they’re looking at the professor, and they’re not happy. I guess it didn’t matter when they thought he was assaulting a dark fae, but god forbid he hurts one of his own kind.
Professor Ericson drops his grip on me.
I’m about to square off with him when Bron is suddenly at my side. His entire body seems to swell, and the professor’s eyes widen, before he takes a step back. “You’ve got your proof. Now if you ever put your hands on her again, I want you to remember that she’s a Bloodmore, and also that the House of Drake and the House of Silver and the House of Luther are their trusted allies. Our families, and the Ash family, rule the East, as allies. So if ever we should think you’re targeting one of our allies, our families will have to step in, and believe me when I say that they’ll reduce you to rubble.”
Bron places his hand gently on my back, turning me toward the door, and then he’s rushing me outside. Part of me wants to reach back out for the miserable professor and break his fucking arm, or his fucking leg. Anything to remind me that I don’t need a big man stepping in to save me, but a random limb breaking might not be the best way to prove that I’m not a dark fae. Still, I resent Bron stepping in. How many times could I have used his help over the last few years? Where was he then?
I stop, and it forces him to stop too. “I don’t need your help.”
“Esmeray--”
“I mean it. This is my battle. Let me fight it.”
“Your battle?” His jaw clenches. “This shouldn’t be a battle. You’re a god damn child who just lost her brother and got sent to a place where you’re suddenly expected to jump into your brother’s shoes. There shouldn’t be a fucking battle. There should be a school full of people doing their best to make things easier for you.”
I shove him, and his eyes widen in surprise. “I was a child when you left. I was a child when you didn’t visit or call. But I’m not a fucking child now, and if you think for one second this place isn’t a battle ground for me, you need to grow up!”
Whirling on my heels, I’m shocked when he drags me back against him, breathing hard. “Your hands--”
“Thanks for that, but I don’t want or need your help again.”
Hurt reflects in those stunning hazel eyes of his for a second before fury replaces the hurt. “Don’t think I can’t sense the way you feel about me.”
“I can want you and hate you at the same time,” I say, jerking free from his touch.
His hand drops, and I sense him standing still as I leave the hall and head outside.
For a second I’m overwhelmed by emotions that don’t feel like mine: surprise, maybe even admiration, and arousal, before the emotions disappear. I glance back through the glass doors, but I can’t see him from where I stand. Were those his emotions pouring out? I push the thought aside. How he feels or doesn’t feel isn’t what matters. What matters is that I’ve learned more already.
My brother wasn’t the person I thought he was.
And Professor Ericson was most definitely added to my list of suspects.
It’s a start to unraveling the mystery of what happened. I only hoped I’d learn more, and soon. The anger and helplessness I was trying so damned hard to hide was like a volcano bubbling. I needed to find the person responsible for my brother’s death and unleash this fury on them, before it was too late.
Because as much as I wanted to pretend being a dark fae didn’t matter, there was a reason that people feared us.
10
Esmeray
It’s my last class of the day, and I’m fuming mad. Did Dwade really think after all these years I can’t tell when he lies? I can. The damn man doesn’t have to open his emotions to me, because I can