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)
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Aric
I’m not in the mood.
If one more person mentions tonight’s party, I’m punching them in the face.
Rey’s been distant all day—on purpose. Everything she does is surgical. Which means she probably knows where the last rune is and wants to rip the bandage right off despite how much I may bleed.
Class blurs. My notes are a line of slashes that could be runes or a cardiogram but definitely won’t help me pass bio. Would be nice if I could get drunk fast and stay there tonight, but my body burns through alcohol like cheap gasoline. I’m an expensive drunk—and that won’t fix the actual problem.
Correction: problems.
I round the corner toward the dining hall—and Rowen’s posted at the doors like a gargoyle. The guy’s been shadowing Rey all week, too smooth, too pretty, the kind of pretty that looks better with blood on it. Scars that say he enjoys collecting them.
I turn on my heel. The last thing I need is him right now.
“Aric.” Even his voice irritates me. He talks to me like he has a reason to command me, and it pisses me off.
I sigh and face him. “Yes, asshole?”
He rolls his eyes. “About the party tonight.”
“Can I uninvite you?”
“I assume it will be supervised?” he says, ignoring me.
I bark a laugh. He doesn’t. “Who died and made you chaperone? Relax. Cameras everywhere, house staff on duty, nobody’s dying. Rey can handle herself.”
His blue eyes flash a shade colder. “And who watches you? Who controls you when you lose it?”
I glance around the empty corridor—polished tile, trophy case reflecting our shapes. “It’s my house, so I plan to exist in it. Drink. Have a good time. Forget for a little while and try to avoid you at all costs. That’s my plan.”
He steps in, close enough for me to smell his stupid mint gum. “Good. As long as that plan doesn’t involve her.”
I grin. “You warning me away like she can’t make good choices? She’s a grown woman—she does nothing she doesn’t want to.”
His jaw flexes. “Ah. That’s the problem. What she wants—”
“Is me.” I lean in, lay a cool hand on his shoulder. “Who am I to deny her a taste, Rowen?”
His fist is faster than I expect. It cracks my jaw, rattles my teeth, and drives me a step back into the trophy case. Glass explodes while pain flares all down my back.
Shit. He hits like a truck.
Drops of silvery-red blood run from my nose, and he’s already got a fist twisted in my shirt, dragging me close. I let him.
“You’re an abomination,” he snarls. “You shouldn’t exist.” His lip curls. “You don’t deserve the runes that protect you.”
He shoves me and turns away like a little bitch.
“What, you gonna run?” My voice carries down the hall. He stops. “Besides, who made you the judge of who’s ‘worthy,’ huh? I’ve done nothing wrong in this life. My parents sacrificed everything so I could live on to do something, something important. Can you say the same about yours?”
Something flickers behind his eyes—guilt, rage, both. He lunges.
I slip to the side, grab his shirt collar, and bounce him off the cinderblock. My fist cocks—
And suddenly Reeve is there, wedging himself between us like a human pry bar, palms on my chest.
He shoves me just as his loud laughter fills the room, along with the gasps and whispers of the students starting to gather. “Whoa. Okay, no, Frosty, not today. It’s not Christmas.” He shoves me a step back and smacks my cold hands, then turns with a sunny smile. I quickly shove them in my pockets. “Rowen, maybe pick a fight you can win? Bro, this is embarrassing.”
He throws a glance down the hall at the students congregating before continuing.
“Nothing to see, folks! Too much creatine kills! Stay hydrated! Don’t do drugs!”
“I could have beat his ass,” I say loud enough for Rowen to hear.
Rowen points at us, breathing hard. “Stay away from her. Both of you. Next time, I won’t stop.” He stalks off, shoulders stiff, fury tucked back under that guard-dog exterior. I smirk when he shakes his right hand out like it’s stinging from hitting my face. I hope it’s broken.
I’m wiping blood from my nose when Reeve mutters, almost to himself, “That guy and his temper.”
“Rowen? He’s just constantly pissed. Wouldn’t you be if you had to work for Odin?”
Something flashes in Reeve’s eyes. “Hell yeah I’d be pissed. Let’s go feed you before you redecorate the hallway with someone’s spleen.” He claps my shoulder, feels how cold I am, recoils a bit, but doesn’t comment on it.
I lift up my shirt, wiping the rest of the blood off my face with the inside of it while Reeve rushes over to the approaching campus security. Two guys who look like they’ve barely graduated walk up in full uniform, walkie-talkies in hand, concern etched in their eyes.