Page 98 of Phoenix Burn

“Strewth, Angel,” he whispered, dropping his head until his warm breath caressed my cheek. “I bloody don’t know. I’m goin’ on faith and rumors here.”

I searched his face, and saw the fear, and the doubt. “Cara said only fated mates can do that. Is that what we are?”

He reached for my jaw. I tried to flinch away, but he had me pressed up against the wall. His touch was like a miniature lightning strike zinging right through me, and as the beast inside me roused, I barely heard what he whispered.

“I dreamed of you before I even met you. I do not doubt what y’are to me. The only question is, what am I to you?”

It was as though the remainder of the world—the students pushing past him, the academy and its halls—all ceased to exist. All there was, was Matt. And neither the thing inside me, nor my own self, had any doubt as to who, and what, he was to me.

It came from the depths of me, and my voice deepened with the power of it. “You are mine,” I said.

It swept over him, and the gleam in his eyes became incandescent. “I am yours,” he confirmed, moving his hand to behind my head, and pulling me into him. Beneath my cheek, I felt his heart—it pounded in time to my own.

“Are you guys going to cuddle, or eat?” the deep voice boomed from overhead.

We separated with reluctance, but Mari’s interruption was better timed than I wanted to admit. For Matt’s sake, anyway. Although climbing him like a tree in a hall filled with students was likely frowned upon by the administration.

Matt’s arm draped over my shoulders as we followed Mari into the cafeteria, and he lowered his lips to my ear.

“Sweet dreams tonight.” He growled the words.

And my entire body quivered.

* * *

Poor Mari did not have very cooperative dinner guests. Matt and I barely spoke to her, and the air between us was rife with scent.

Perhaps Dorinthians did not have a good sense of smell. She tolerated our obsession with her usual cheerful aplomb, and when she was finished eating, excused herself.

“Think I will meditate by the lake,” she stated, clearly for our benefit, before she rose and left us.

“I’m feelin’—sleepy.” Matt drawled the last word and his eyebrows danced.

Relief that he was willing to be sensible warred with frustration that we were forced to this, but it really was the only safe avenue open to us.

We left the cafeteria with his arm on my shoulders. I wrapped my gloved hand around his wrist. The thing within me was alive and pushing for skin on skin. I had little doubt that if we tried it, it would be a repeat performance of what had happened before.

And maybe this time, I wouldn’t be able to bring him back.

The stairwell was empty as we climbed. I was fighting a war with my inner beast that I was slowly losing, with him so close, and so willing.

“Do you feel it?” I whispered.

“Don’t know about feel, Angel. But your scent”—His voice was rough, the need vibrating through it—“is bloody strong.”

I slid out from beneath his arm. “Best not to touch me at all right now,” I said, but my voice trembled.

His fingers folded into fists. “That is easier said than done.”

“Stay here.” I put an air of command into my voice. “Let me go on alone.”

He quivered, but obeyed. I climbed the last few stairs on my own, feeling as though a tether stretched between us, growing ever thinner and tighter with each step. It physically hurt, and the thing within beat against me, shrieking in my mind.

It wanted Matt. Wanted him badly.

I couldn’t let it have him.

As I pushed through the door onto the fifth floor, I felt as though I walked through molasses, each step dragging, getting harder the farther I moved from him. The hallway had never stretched so long, and I closed the door to my room with a sense of relief.

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