Page 52 of The Cursed

"No," I admitted, staring into my friend's gray eyes.

Nova smiled sadly, nodding as though she understood.

But she didn't. None of them did.

"You know, it's okay to not be okay. You don't always have to be strong for us," she said, resting her head on top of mine.

I fought back the sting of tears, nodding my head. "I might need you to be strong for a while, but for now, I have to keep fighting," I admitted, refusing to look at her. "Because that's who I am."

The echo of Gray's words struck deep in my chest, and it wasn't lost on me that those were the ones I turned to for comfort. It wasn't the memory of my mother's hug or her encouragement, but of the very man I planned to kill that night.

I moved away from Nova slowly, making my way toward Gray's classroom. He stood at the front, seemingly unbothered by his lack of sleep the night before. I felt damn near dead on my feet as I approached him, forcing myself to ignore those who watched us through the open door.

He spun, raising his brow when he found me standing there. "Witchling?" he asked, setting his chalk on the metal tray at the bottom of the board and brushing his hands together.

"I hate you," I said, the words quiet. He tensed, preparing for the argument I knew he expected. We'd done this song and dance far too many times for him to expect anything else, and I wrung my hands together, picking at my nails as I searched for the words to give him.

If I was going to strip him from my life, if I was going to say goodbye, then I at least wanted to admit my truth just once.

"Willow..." His frustration leaked into his voice, forcing me to take another step toward him. He met me at the side of the desk, his face softening as he read the uneasiness. He knew what I was trying to say. He knew that I wasn'treallytelling him I hated him. "I know," he added softly.

"Do you?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. "Do you know what it’s like to want nothing more than to carve you out of my fucking heart? Do you know how much I hate that the person who has shown me the most kindness is theoneperson I'm supposed to despise?"

"I knew you were mine the moment I saw you, and then I spent the next fifty years waiting for you. I hated you for a long time, Witchling. You threatened everything I'd been planning and building for centuries. So yes, I understand," he said, running the back of his knuckles over my cheek. "The difference between you and I is that I do not care about what is morally right. I take what I want without shame. You would rather make a martyr of yourself to feel better about your feelings for me."

"That's not fair," I said, recoiling back from the frustration in his voice.

"Isn't it? What do you owe to these people that you would fight so hard to defend? A few weeks ago, you would have laughed if I'd said you were one of them," Gray said, and I hated that I couldn't deny the truth to that statement.

I'd wanted nothing more than to go and live out my life with Ash, leaving the Coven to their own problems.

"They're my kind. Without the Covenant in the way—"

"You can only use them as a shield for so long, Witchling," he said, picking up a book from his desk. "I need to prepare for my next class, so if you've just come to argue, then I suggest you see yourself out."

I sighed, touching my fingers to the top of his book and pushing it down. He glowered at me over the surface of the page, forcing me to swallow back my frustration with him. "I'm not using them as a shield."

"Aren't you?" he asked, flicking my fingers off his book.

"Why do you have to be so difficult?" I asked, turning my back on him. I made my way for the door, determined to give him the privacy he'd so desperately wanted only a moment before.

"Me?" he asked, snorting with laughter. "You came here just to pick a fight, and then have the nerve to get angry with me when I ask you the questions you aren't ready to ask yourself."

I sighed, letting my arms drop at my sides as the fight left me. "I didn't come here to pick a fight," I admitted.

"I'm not sure you know how tonotpick a fight," he said, but there was a smile spreading on his face. "What do you need, my love?"

"I wanted to say I was sorry. I was wrong yesterday, when I let Iban kiss me. It won't happen again," I said, watching as Gray's head tipped to the side. He set his book back down carefully, closing the distance between us. When he tipped his head to the side, there were only two thoughts on his mind.

Either he was about to be cruel, or he thought I was about to break.

I didn’t know which reaction from him would hurt worse in that moment, knowing what I was about to do. His cruelty would hurt now but make it easier later, his kindness would be the opposite.

His steps were slow as he approached me, pausing just in front of me to lift my mother's necklace from where it hung around my neck. He toyed with it, holding my gaze. "I know it won't, and I appreciate your apology," he said, letting the necklace drop against my neck again. "But that's not what you came here to tell me, and it’s certainly not what I want to fucking hear."

I swallowed, regretting the choice I'd made in coming to him. I couldn't find the words that had seemed so easy when I didn't have his golden stare regarding me.

A golden stare that I would probably only see one more time, when the life faded from him completely.

---