Unperturbed by Milton’s reaction, Thorne tilts his head. His lazy smile brims with malice, revealing sharp teeth behind a thin veneer. “What, isn’t burning each other the point of this exercise?”
“No, we’re still doing warm-ups! Not mock battles!”
“Then why were you lobbing fireballs at Fledgling Axton when I walked up?”
Neither Milton nor Elijah fall for Thorne’s silky-toned ruse. They both take a nervous step back.
With sweat dripping down his temples and lips white with pain, Milton breaks first. “We were just goofing around. It was nothing.”
Thorne’s raised eyebrow implies he knows they’re full of shit. Not an ounce of compassion or concern infiltrates his expression. Not even when their fingertips purple.
I wonder why they don’t use their fire magic to counteract Thorne’s ice. Then I notice Elijah’s biceps straining and his fingers curling and realize they can’t. Thorne’s power must completely override their magic.
My skin pebbles at the thought. I shift my feet. “I think they got the message. We’re good here. You can stop whatever you’re doing.”
No reaction. Elijah moans. “My hands. I need my hands!” Beneath the ice crystals, the purple from his fingertips creeps up past his second knuckle.
I shove myself in front of Thorne so he can’t pretend not to hear me. “Can you please stop? Please. They’re going to lose their fingers otherwise.”
Thorne’s gaze flickers to me. “Do you care?”
What kind of question is that? “Of course! Yes,” I hiss.
With a bored sigh, he twitches his hands. The ice vanishes. “If you want to keep your fingers, I suggest rubbing them until they’re pink again.” When my hazers start to do just that, he barks. “Somewhere else.”
Elijah and Milton take off. I’m not proud of the satisfaction that rises over the visual of them scurrying off like frightened rabbits, but I don’t beat myself up for the pleasure either.
Smiling, I face my unexpected savior, feeling a little bad about misjudging him. He can’t be all that terrible if he rescued me from those creeps. “Thank you for stepping in. I?—”
His nostrils flare, and he grips my upper arms. “What are you trying to prove?”
My smile falters. “What do you mean? I was trying to warm up like Resnick said, and then those two came and?—”
His grip tightens. “Not that. Why are you holding back your magic and wasting time trying to make them like you?”
I gawk. He couldn’t possibly know about my magic, could he? To be on the safe side, I skirt the first question and focus on the second. “I wasn’t trying to make them like me. I was just…”
His eyes narrow. “Just what?”
Swallowing hard, I search for an answer, but it’s difficult to think clearly with Thorne standing this close to me. Especially when he’s clutching me with those big hands, intoxicating me with his scent of leather, soap, and the faintest hint of spice. Even angry, he’s beautiful, and my body can’t decide if I’m scared, mad, turned on…or a weird combo of all three.
That last thought makes me want to kick myself. This is what happens when young adults spend too much time in isolation. When they finally spring their cages, all that built-up hunger for interaction with people their age makes even the assholes look desirable. “I was just appealing to their common sense, since we’re on the same side. And besides, so what if I want them to like me. What’s so wrong about that?”
He growls in response. I huff. “Now who needs to use their words?”
“Not everyone is worth your time.” His pointed look indicates he’s including me in this category. “And if you don’t want people attacking you, quit proving them right and do something to stop them.”
Of all the… “Thanks for pointing out the obvious. Don’t you think I’m trying?”
“No.”
Seething, I curl my hands into fists. “I take back what I said about you earlier. I didn’t misjudge you at all. You’re every bit as terrible as I believed. Worse, even.”
“You never said anything about misjudging me.”
I pause. He might be right. “Well, I did in my head. But the point is, I was wrong. You really are a miserable fu…jerk.”
His silence cools my anger, which gives way to regret. Now I’ve gone and done it. I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t assign me much worse punishments than cleaning out the stable. Guilt surfaces too. Jerk or not, he did run Elijah and Milton off. Then he went and ruined his good deed by opening his mouth.