Page 48 of A Dusk Of Stars

“No,” he forcefully cuts me off, getting in my face again. “Right now,” he commands as he gestures at the Lycan Tower, “you’re getting your ass back inside the tower, you’re changing out of those wet clothes and you’re going straight to bed.”

His tone transfixing instead of angering me, I just give him a nod.

For a moment, he seems to hesitate, the anticipation making me swallow roughly.

Then he moves to walk away, my stomach dropping at the very thought of the growing distance.

It sends a flutter through my chest, when he stops mid step and turns to look at me again, as if he’s remembered something. “I’ll be sending someone to check,” he says with eyes narrowing at me, “so don’t even think about disobeying me. Understood?”

I stare into his eyes for a second. “Understood,” I finally say.

He turns on his heel and starts marching out of the woods, leaving me standing there in growing confusion, soaking wet with his jacket as the only source of actual warmth.

Chapter 18

The two weeks go by in agony. I’m sitting in the Library, behind the Service Desk, and I’m supposed to be using this time to study, but I just can’t seem to stop wasting it. I’m either obsessing about tonight’s ritual or the fact I still haven't apologized to Raven.

I glance at my phone, finding no new messages. I let out a sigh. It occurs to me that I could just go do it right this instance, but then that worry starts gnawing at me — that she'll say something about what transpired between us that day in the Junkyard, that questions will ensue and that things will become even more complicated than they were.

That look that Alaric threw me echoes through my mind again, making me shake my head in an effort to get it out.

It draws my attention, when another group of students walks into the Library, talking in hushed, excited voices.

“Now they’re saying it was Nature Magic,” one of the guys says.

I don’t even have to guess what they’re talking about. It’s what everyone seems to be talking about these days — the three dead bodies found a week ago, no bite marks or puncture wounds to be found, yet completely drained of blood. It seems to be the stuff of great mystery.

“I don’t know,” one of the girls replies. “I find it suspicious, how the Authority can’t seem to make up their minds.”

They walk past me, leaving this hollow feeling in my gut. That’s how it always goes with people. Either you hurt them or they hurt you. Raven and Alaric are better off without me anyway.

Alright, I tell myself, back to studying.

I take a deep breath and force myself to fix my eyes on the text in front of me.

Types of magic, that’s the section I’m currently on. I know most of this shit already, but I really need to brush up on my knowledge of Divine.

The next thing I know, I’m typing ‘Jericho Bane’ into the browser on my phone, clicking on every result that pops up, none of which are new to me and none of which say anything about the man himself. There are so many things I feel I justneedto know.

What kind of magic is it, that’s allowing him to shift his eyes like that?

How can he be so familiar and so opaque to me all at once?

Or, more importantly… Why oh why am I letting this spin out of control like this?

Letting out a groan, I close the tab and try to go back to my book.

Now those words are ringing in my head again. “I saidfocus on my voice.” I keep replaying them, basking in their echoes like some love-sick little puppy.

Gross.

Normally, when I take a step back to see what I’m doing, it’s enough to make me stop. This time, I can’t seem to stop the memories from flooding my senses — seemingly countless stored images of his muscles flexing, of him lifting that guy off the ground, of the ironclad grip of his arm around my waist.

It leaves me breathless and makes this frustrating longing tug at my navel, whenever I think about how easily he could toss me around regardless of my weight. I feel myself slipping into playing out yet another fantasy.

It all scares me, probably because I know I’ll be seeing him tonight, but the fact that it scares me makes me angry.

Iusethe anger. I tell myself I seem to be very far from his type. And even if I weren't, I tell myself he’d be terrible in bed, an asshole such as himself. Not just because he’s selfish, but because he’s so hot — guys like him have a tendency of not thinking they have to work for it.

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