Page 290 of Caelum

My body was still curvy, but it was tauter from all the exercise I’d had to do. Not just at the Academy but here as well. I had dust in my hair and on my face, dirt too, and I even had a bruise on my chin. Then there was the fact that my skin was flushed from the sun, and my eyes had circles underneath them from lack of sleep. Deep in their core, however, there was a knowledge that had never been there before.

It came from a welter of sources.

I knew what sex was now.

I knew what the world looked like—had been to several major cities in the span of a few weeks. Some people probably hadn’t seen that number in their lifetime!

Then, there was seeing death. At the hand of the Ghouls, but also, their perishing from God’s plan.

I was different now. No longer a girl and very much a woman.

Pinching my cheeks to get a little bit more color in them, I stared at myself again then shrugged off the melancholy. There was no point inquestioning what it was about myself that could keep six guys to me and somehow totally alienate a seventh.

It wasn’t on me. It was on him.

Dre.

The bane of my existence.

Okay, slight exaggeration, but the pain in my chest said otherwise.

He’d come to my bed like he had every right to be there, and sure, he did. I’d Chosen him, hadn’t I? But Claiming was another matter entirely, and to be frank, if he kept treating me like this, I wouldn’t want to.

Wasn’t it crazy how a sharp, bitten off retort was the straw that broke the camel’s back?

He’d insulted me worse, treated me worse, and yet to hug me and hiss at me in the same breath was more than I could take after what I’d just gone through.

Sure, he had to be feeling the adrenaline, but me? It was decimating me.

Barely holding back tears, I grabbed a towel from inside the vanity, slung it over the shower door, then headed into the glass cubicle.

The water was hot and plentiful, telling me that not all services were down, thank goodness. I washed myself all over, wincing at the bruises blossoming over my body, and used the complimentary products to soothe my myriad aches and pains. I dried off and coated myself in the matching lotion that smelled of a flower I couldn’t name and tried to massage taut and tired muscles.

I was feeling much better by the end—a lot fresher and happier, truth be told.

When I hobbled into the bedroom wearing the white robe that hung at the back of the door, I saw that Dre hadn’t moved.

A part of me wanted to push him off the bed just to be spiteful, but instead, I walked over to the curtains, pushed them aside, then squeezed into the opening I made so I could head out onto the terrace.

The world was still crazy, and some of the fires hadn’t been put out by the firefighters. There were sirens and the throb of panic was literally in the air. I could feel it. My heart responded to it, making it pump harder, faster, as though I were running even though I was still.

Was I surprised when a few moments later Dre followed me out here?

No.

Did I welcome him?

Did I look like a fool?

We were silent for only God knew how long, and then he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t say anything for a second then murmured, “Why do you think it’s okay to snap at me? To talk to me like you do?” In the grand scheme of things, he’d said worse to me since I’d known him, but today? His meanness as he carried me away from the carnage, holding me in loving arms while berating me with a sharp tone?

No.

I wasn’t going to take this anymore.

I wasn’t his whipping post. I’d been one before for my father, and that wasn’t about to happen again.

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