Lessons in Sin - Pam Godwin Page 0,37

chest, hiding the wobbly smile that tugged at my lips. God, I loved him.

He leaned past me, bending his mouth to Magnus’s ear. While I couldn’t see his expression, I heard the malice in his whisper.

“You might be fooling everyone else with that collar around your throat. But I saw the way you looked at her, priest, and I don’t like it. If you hurt her, I will come for you.”

Shit. My breath left me as he pulled my hand. I moved my feet, trying to keep up with his sudden pivot and ground-erasing strides, only because I wanted my shoulder to remain in its socket.

Typical Constantine. He’d said his piece and got the last word. I was about to open my mouth and lay into him when Magnus’s voice boomed at our backs.

“You underestimate her.”

Keaton pulled up short and spun, taking me with him.

“If anyone tries to hurt her,” Magnus said, his stony eyes fixed on my brother, “it won’t be you who strikes back in her defense.”

“Then who—?” His jaw hardened, and his head made a slow rotation in my direction.

As it dawned on him that Magnus meant me, that I was the one who would strike back, his entire bearing softened.

“She needs you in her corner.” Magnus held his arms behind him, his gorgeous face void of emotion. “But she doesn’t need you to fight her fights. Your sister has more ferocity than you and me combined.”

A flutter erupted in my chest, and my stomach did this dippy, bouncy thing that felt a lot like vertigo.

“At least he’s not an idiot,” Keaton muttered. Then he raised his voice, addressing Magnus. “She’s not only fierce. She has a genius IQ. If that doesn’t intimidate you, then you’re already an improvement over her other teachers.” He canted his head, indicating the direction he wanted me to walk. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t intimidate him.” I ambled along beside him, smiling at his pensive expression. “Mother couldn’t even do that. He’s dauntless.”

“Do you like that guy?”

Now probably wasn’t the time to tell him that Magnus had taken a pair of scissors to the tennis bracelet Keaton had given me.

“Not really,” I said. “He’s strict, demanding, and has the emotional sensitivity of a coffin. But he can be reasonable sometimes. And he’s right, you know. I’m pretty awesome at standing up for myself.”

“I know, Tins. But I hate the idea of you being here, in the middle of goddamn Maine, standing up for yourself alone.”

“I’m not alone. You’re a phone call away.”

“Always.”

There was a big fat omission between being alone and being lonely. But for the first time in my life, I wasn’t going to burden my brother with my problems.

I wasn’t going to tell him how much I hated it here or how I intended to get expelled. He would only worry and interfere, and like Magnus said, I needed to fight my own fights.

“So tell me about this Winter Formal.” He winked at a group of sophomore girls he passed, making them giggle and blush. “Who’s the boy you’re going with?”

“The boy is only a few months younger than you.”

“I hate him already.”

“He’s a Kensington.”

He stopped, and a muscle feathered across his jaw. “Tucker Kensington?”

“Yep. He asked me to the dance after church a couple of weeks ago. I gave him my number, and he’s been sending me dick pics. Pretty sure I’m going to get laid on the night of the dance.”

“I’m going to kill him.” His face turned a murderous shade of red.

“No, you’re not.”

“Tinsley.” Eyes blazing, he scanned our surroundings as if willing Tucker to appear so he could commence with the homicide.

“Do you want me to be a virgin my entire life?”

“I want to not think about it.”

“If you’re willing to commit murder over my hymen, we’re going to talk about it.”

From the edge of the courtyard, I watched Magnus as he greeted the families. One of the mothers, a pretty older woman, offered her hand and a coquettish grin. He gripped her fingers and gave her a look that likely soaked her panties.

As if he could sense me, his gaze found mine across the distance. His eyes—so deep and cold and weighed down with secrets—were an assault on my senses.

“When will you see Tucker again?” Keaton asked, pulling my attention back.

“Every interaction is supervised. You’re not going to kill him because I was joking about the dick pics. Also, he doesn’t actually get to take me to the dance. We have to meet there, and if