Page 80 of Tempest

“I’m mad at you for existing, Tempest,” she spits.

We’ve drawn a small crowd, and if Ardyn took enough of a cleansing breath to notice, no doubt she would shrink like a flower and scuttle through the doors praying for an invisible cloak. I’ve made her mean, and meanness begets confidence, so here she stands, a warrior princess with flushed cheeks and a hate-filled gaze, bearing down on me with the might of a titaness.

I smile, rather impressed with myself for drawing this out of her.

She takes it the wrong way. Obviously.

“You don’t get to choose my friends, concoct my grades, and haunt me until I leave, okay?” she shouts, her melodious voice trembling. “I’m choosing my destiny now, and no one but me gets a say in how I live my life. If I want to stay at TFU, then I fucking will!”

I cock my head. “You’ll have to grow some massive brass balls to withstand my plans for you, then.”

“Do your worst!” Ardyn throws her hands up, the rest of her face catching the color of her cheeks. “Don’t you get it? My nightmares have already happened. My worst fears have come true. There is nothing you can do to worsen my existence, so just get out of my face and bother some other unsuspecting girl who will break in half at your whim.”

I narrow my eyes. For a minute there, I enjoyed pissing Ardyn off so much that I’d forgotten about my purpose and the seriousness of Ardyn’s meeting with Miguel. My shriveled heart unfurls, filling with the toxic smoke it needs to keep beating.

I say in a low voice for only her to hear, “Be careful what you wish for.”

Ardyn misses the hint entirely. “I’m not kidding, Tempest. You’ve proven your point. You can screw me over in any direction, but I—”

I grab her by the crook of her elbow and “help” her up the rest of the stairs.

She gasps, our small audience retreats in stunned shock, and I force her through the doors, some bystanders tripping over their feet to get out of our path.

“What are you doing?” Ardyn cries. “You can’t just force me places! People are watching. You’ll be reported—”

“Let them.” I push her up the inside staircase, her dress slinking up her thighs as she resists me. Any higher, and I’ll bend her over right here. Let’s see them report that. “If you’d move with your own legs and deposit yourself in your room, I wouldn’t have to shove you up there.”

I say it with such logic that fury reddens her stare. “I’m going there anyway. You don’t have to force me.”

“Not fast enough, clearly.” I poke her between the shoulders in a reckless attempt to distract myself from what I truly want to poke her with. “Scoot.”

“You’re insufferable,” she bites out as we resume our climb. “An asshole. An animal. A snake.”

I answer in a bored tone, “I’ve been called all of the above and worse. Get inside.”

She grinds to a halt in front of her door, her back smacking into my front.

Ardyn releases a sharp exhale, and I know she feels the evidence of our stimulating argument.

“Clover’s in there,” she breathes. “We can’t. I don’t want her to know.”

I reach around her and push the door open. “You think I do?”

Ardyn instinctively presses into me as if she’s afraid of what my sister would do if she caught us standing together in a doorway. I suppose Ardyn’s right to be afraid. Clover has all the dark art materials she needs to curse my dick for eternity. But she’s had every opportunity to do so, and she hasn’t yet.

“Clo’s not here,” I say over Ardyn’s head, then push her inside.

Ardyn trips over the carpeting, righting herself with an oath sounding surprisingly close to what Clo might ultimately curse me with.

Ardyn turns to face me, digging a frustrated hand through her ruined braid. “Why am I surprised? Of course you lied. Why did you want me here then if Clover didn’t?”

“We need to talk.” I shut the door, then lean up against it in case Ardyn gets any ideas to scurry past me.

“Why?”

“I want to know what Miguel said to you.”

“I repeat: why?”

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