Page 99 of A Heart of Bluestone

I don’t stop.

Cheek turned to me, his lashes are low over his eyes, and it’s as though he’s either scraping for scraps of patience, or he’s waiting it out, waiting for me to tire, like I am nothing more than a child having a tantrum.

This is so much more.

A wild sound tears through me as I’m yanked back.

Oliver snatches me by the arm and hoists me with him.

The rotting, burnt soles of my shoes slip beneath me. Still, I yank free of him and throw a look at him so wild that he actually releases me—and shuts the fuck up.

I turn that lethal stare on Dray.

His head is tilted now, lashes low over the sharp and threatening gleam of his eyes.

Try it, that look tells me.

And I do.

I punch out for him. My fist aims for his face.

But it doesn’t connect.

Dray takes a swift step closer, and swipes for me. His hand catches my wrist and holds it, firm.

Diamond eyes flare down at me. A warning, a threat.

It’s punched by the press of his thumb into my wrist. “You forget yourself, Olivia.”

The press of his thumb digs deeper.

It aches the bone and tendons.

A wince is sharp between the bite of my teeth.

“I hate you,” I utter the confession in a teary mess, a groaned admission stained with poison. “I fucking despise you, you absolute piece of shit, you fucking monster—and I hope,gods I hope, Dray, you choke on a dick and die.”

He blinks. Lashes flutter once, twice. It’s a fleeting shutter of his mask. But he’s composed in a short heartbeat.

Jaw clenched, he lifts his chin and stares down his nose at me. His grip firms. The blood is pooling in my fingers, throbbing in my palm.

I utter a groan, but his answer is to lower his head. He brings his lips to the heel of my palm—and plants a chaste kiss on my skin.

His lips move against my palm, and I almost don’t hear the danger in his low murmur, “Such pretty words from a crooked mouth.”

Before I can react—

“Break it up! All of you!” Headmaster Braun’s booming voice bounces off the walls. Enchanted by his pentacle, the announcement will reach every corridor, every foyer, every classroom in this gods-forsaken prison. “The injured to the infirmary, and everyone else, get your warts out of my sight!” His voice snaps, then rips into a shout, “Where are the damned cleaners?”

Dray’s fingers spring from my wrist. A very deliberate release, and I don’t need to think on it a moment longer to know what that told me. I am at his mercy.

I stagger back from him, from the bloodshed in his gaze.

Sure, he released me, but the warning in his eyes doesn’t fade.

“Come on,” Oliver starts and reaches for me. “Let’s get your burns sorted—”

I whirl around and take my fist with me.

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