Witch Born - LJ Swallow Page 0,50
hitting on Ethan.”
“I wasn’t. We’re friends.”
“Yeah, he looked very friendly, ignoring you and all,” says a second girl.
“You’re wasting your time,” says a third.
I’m not having this conversation and turn away as my cheeks heat. Because people around are laughing at me, or because Ethan blanked me? Both. Did the incident between us bother him that much?
Despite wanting to follow Ethan immediately, I wait a few minutes for the vampires to leave. I’m on edge, because if I don’t follow soon I might miss him until tomorrow. Finally, the group move on, and I hastily leave the hall.
Ethan is never in the common room, and I’ve no need to guess where he is.
I peek outside, my breath immediately misting in the winter air. A large figure sits on a bench near where we leave jackets or congregate waiting for exercise hell.
He’s in the shadows, but his distinctive build is enough to tell me this is Ethan. Goosebumps immediately rise on my arms as I step outside. I could go to my room and find my jacket, but if I do will he be here when I return?
He hears me approach before I reach him. “Eloise.”
“Ethan. What’s wrong? Why did you walk off without speaking? Look, if this is about the kiss, we can pretend nothing happened,” I blurt.
He mutters under his breath then says, “I had things I needed to do. Sorry.”
“Like sit on a bench in the cold?” I retort.
A smile plays around the corner of Ethan’s lips. “Yes.”
“Rather than talk to me.”
He stands. “I’m sorry. I’m not in the mood for people.”
“People, or me?”
His intense green eyes meet mine. “Aren’t you people, Eloise?”
“You know what I mean,” I say with exasperation. “Is this about yesterday evening?”
His eyes shine through the dark and the smile leaves. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”
“Obviously, ‘it’ does, Ethan.” I wrap my cold arms around myself. “Tell me.” He regards me silently with an unreadable expression. “Ethan?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were attacked?” he asks, voice flat.
Oh. “I didn’t want people to know.” His stony expression remains. “Did you know before Zeke and Dorian’s fight?”
“Yeah. Heard the rumours. Then Zeke confirmed the truth. Is the other rumour true—that he helped you?”
“Is that why you’re not talking to me?” I ask in surprise.
He steps forward and looks down. “I told you I’d protect you. Why go to Zeke and not me?”
Wow. “You made it clear last night that I should leave you alone. And I didn't go to him. Zeke was there. He stopped the attack.”
Surprise crosses Ethan’s features. “How convenient.”
“What does that mean?” I ask sharply, as his response pushes a possibility I’d not considered. Surely Zeke didn’t ask the girls to attack me?
“Nothing. Were you badly hurt?” He takes my arm and turns it over, running his fingers along the inside, and the touch heats my freezing skin.
“No.” I clear my throat. “Well, yes, but not anymore. Zeke helped with the... damage.”
Ethan cocks his head, fingers still moving along my arm. “How?”
I rub my lips together. I can’t tell Ethan Zeke’s secret.
“Zeke helped,” I repeat. “That’s all you need to know.”
He takes my other arm and pulls me closer. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve fixed the issue.”
Our bodies almost touch again and memories of yesterday intensify as I stare at his mouth. But there’s no desire in his eyes, just a hard anger that scares me more than the assaulting kiss.
I moisten my lips and he drops my arm, eyes widening.
“How would you have fixed the situation? By beating up the girls?”
He snorts. “No, but I’m willing to take Dorian on. It’s time somebody did.”
“You’re obsessed with him,” I say.
“As are you.”
I reel at his retort. “Obsessed with Dorian?”
He shakes his curls from his face. “Yes. There’s a strange tension between you and it’s not all animosity. Don’t be fooled by him. If his powers are returning too, you won’t know what’s hit you when he assaults your mind.”
“I’m keeping my enemies close,” I tell him.
“Dorian is too clever for you to do that.”
“Are you suggesting I’m not clever?”
“Naïve, then.” Ethan rubs my arms “You’re cold. Where’s your jacket?”
A laugh bubbles from me at his concern. “You sound like the dad I wish I’d had. One who cares.”
“You never had a father?”
“I have one, but I was treated like a circus freak not a daughter.”
“That’s sad.” He says the words simply but with a compassion in his eyes that I don’t expect replacing his anger. “I care about you, Eloise, but