Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Ziva waves her over. I flip my phone face up, leaving her on read, but when her eyes drop to the screen, then snap to me, her glare cuts deep.
And suddenly, I can breathe. Or it feels like I can.
“Just texted you,” she says flatly.
“Yup.” I smile back, cool as I can manage.
“Hey, Eira.” Rey’s voice is deceptively casual. “Can I borrow Rowen really quick?”
The flare of jealousy hits so fast, I almost choke on it. No—not jealousy. Just anger. Irritation. Annoyance.
Eira shrugs like she couldn’t care less, and Rowen walks over to her, throwing a casual arm around her shoulder.
My hand curls around my Coke can until the aluminum creaks. Frost blooms across the surface in thick veins, ice racing up my fingers until the whole can is frozen solid.
Eira gasps. “Wow. That must be really cold. I’m gonna grab one.” She scurries off.
But I can’t move. Can’t breathe. All I see is Rowen and Rey walking out together.
Something’s going on.
And the rune on my back—it burns. It’s alive. I can feel it clawing under my skin, demanding to be noticed.
I keep telling myself it’s nothing. A trick. Some accidental magic Rey stirred up in the Hall of Ormir.
It started there. But it needs to end now. A small voice reminds me it started years ago, but it wasn’t like this then. Back then, I could still control things, but now? Now things are…changing. I shift uncomfortably.
Tonight, I’m done pretending. Tonight, I’m asking Sigurd why the hell I’ve got a living, breathing rune carved into me like a brand.
And how the fuck I get rid of it.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Rey
“What’s up?” Rowen crosses his arms and leans in. “You’re not really squashing down the whole I was in your room and we broke a bed rumor right now.”
My eyebrows shoot up as I self-consciously look around the dining hall. People are staring. Great. Perfect. “There’s a rumor about us?”
He nods. “Though in the rumored version, you were naked.”
I slap a hand over his mouth, then drop it. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Welcome to college.” He almost seems sad when he says it. “You’re young and pretty, and I’m not a troll, so people put two and two together. And I mean, the bed was broken. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Better than them talking about you and Aric.”
Fair point.
I hold up my phone. “Keep yours on you. I kind of told Aric we could do our assignment now. Field trip to the Ice Caves.”
“Brilliant idea, Rey.”
“Appreciate the sarcasm.”
I know Rowen’s right, but it’s all I have, and as much as I would love to enjoy the delusion that this is normal, that I’m just attending classes, starting my own rumors, and headed toward a sex tape scandal all before streaking through the quad—that’s not the case.
Lives are at stake.
“I’ll be fine. I know how to handle myself.”
“Hope you’re right about that. Because here he comes.”
Aric’s dark eyes meet mine, and without a word, he nods.
I force a smile for Rowen. “That’s my cue.”
I follow Aric out of the building, toward the parking lot just as storm clouds muscle their way across the sky, thick and heavy. The day dims in an instant, the kind of wrong darkness that feels like a bad omen written across the heavens.
It wasn’t supposed to rain today. Definitely not thunderstorm tonight.
I shiver and keep my eyes locked straight ahead, but my gaze still catches on Aric’s fists—white-knuckled, clutched tight at his sides like he’s one second from putting them through a wall.
Lightning suddenly charges across the clouds, jagged and sharp.
He stops short, spins on me, voice breaking, raw. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? What being near you feels like? You think this is some kind of game?”
I reel back, breath catching as a cool wind whooshes across my cheek. His chest heaves once, twice, and then he drags a hand over his face like he’s trying to shove the words back inside.
“Forget it,” he mutters, voice lower now but no calmer. “I know we have to ride in the same car. But if you could just…stay away from me. Unless it’s absolutely necessary. That’d be great.”
The storm deepens overhead, growling.
By the time we’re settled in his black Defender, he’s gripping the steering wheel so hard, the leather groans. His jaw is locked, eyes fixed forward like he’s holding on by a thread. He keeps blinking, shaking his head, like he’s losing focus.
My pulse spikes.
And for the first time, I wonder if I’m trapped in this car with him—or if he’s trapped in here with me.
I haven’t had a chance to fully look at the map, so I haven’t mathed how far we’re actually going. I assume I have a few hours for a partner breakthrough.
Aric apparently doesn’t trust me to navigate. He takes his phone out of his pocket and pulls up a navigation app, then types an address and waits for it to sync on the car’s console. I try not to let my irritation show.