his victims if he wasn’t screaming obscenities.
“Nobody,” I call, terrified he’ll step over his personal moral line if I mention the girls.
Dorian jumps so he lands with gentle thud, centimetres from my face. The metallic scent from his blood mingles with the smell of his anger. “You. Me. We need to talk.” He spins in a circle to look at each person around. “Whoever is responsible will pay.” With one last look at me, he turns on his heel and strides away.
I lift my eyes to the darkened heavens. We always ‘need to talk’, but nothing ever changes between us.
I glance after him.
This time it might.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Neither Zeke nor Dorian attend Francesca’s meditation class that afternoon, and she becomes annoyed by the whispering filling the room competing with her music.
I hear the student’s questions and sense their scrutiny:
Where are Dorian and Zeke?
Were they taken to solitary?
Did Dorian really attack me?
I’m mystified by the girls’ assault, because Dorian’s anger when he heard about the attack wasn't fake—he faltered in his battle with Zeke and lost the upper hand. Two of the girls involved are in the class and stay quiet. They heard the words Dorian yelled as he stormed away: whoever is responsible will pay.
Ethan is missing from the class too, but nobody comments on his absence since he rarely attends meditation. People whisper how strange that Ethan stepped forward when he never speaks, but I know why.
The class passes uneventfully but nobody leaves meditation any calmer today. Francesca deflected questions over how Dorian and Zeke accessed their powers, and I heard whispers that others who've tried in the past never succeeded.
As the day continues, things calm and I’m told students beating the crap out of each other isn't unusual and always forgotten about by the next day.
But we all saw Zeke’s claws rip into Dorian’s flesh.
As we walk out of another bland dinner ready for an evening of boredom, two mids flank the exit watching everybody leave. I panic that I'll be pulled up for involvement and perspiration breaks out along my back, but they barely glance at me.
There’s a scuffle behind and loud protests from some girls. I glance back. mids have hold of two girls—the ones who attacked me.
I quickly look back around again, not wanting to catch their eye. Oh hell, did Zeke tell the academy everything?
Oriana pauses to talk to three witches gossiping nearby and then catches up to me.
"What's happening?" I ask.
“Mids found contraband in their rooms. Two days solitary.”
“What counts as contraband?”
She scratches her nose. “Perfume.”
I blink. “Perfume?”
“Yeah. Essential oils can be disguised in the bottles and used to create potions.”
I make a mental note never to ask for anybody to send me any type of perfume—as if I know anybody who would.
Ethan strides towards the dining hall and I watch the latecomer barge through the kids who are leaving. The moment between us last night feels like an age ago, considering everything else that happened to me since. The sudden—and suddenly over—kiss is now mixed in with the rest of yesterday’s nightmare, as if I imagined everything. But as I look at him now, the memory of every moment his mouth and hands touched me push through.
The problem is, I’m now certain Ethan is avoiding me
Biting my lip, I side glance Oriana. “I left something in the hall. I’ll catch you later.”
She laughs. “Left something, huh?”
There’s no point denying the truth, so with a small smile I head back inside to find Ethan.
Ethan walks from the serving hatch towards a nearby table with the tray balanced on his palm. Briefly meeting my eyes, he takes a seat. He doesn’t look up as I join him, instead focused on his excuse for a meal—the so-called lamb curry, which I avoid because the amount of chilli isn’t enough to obliterate the unpleasant taste of the cheap meat.
“Hey, Ethan.”
Ethan shovels food into his mouth, hunched over, ignoring me. I attempt to meet his eyes, but they’re hidden beneath his hair as usual.
“Ethan?”
My heart skips several beats when he stands and shoves his tray to one side. Without a second glance, leaving half his meal, Ethan walks away. Is this about the kiss? My mouth dries. Have I ended our friendship by pushing him the way I did?
Someone giggles behind me and I look sharply over my shoulder. Vampire girls, so similar in appearance with their long brown hair and green eyes they could be sisters, watch. One arches a shaped brow. “Yes?” she asks.
“Something amusing you?”
“You,