Page 41 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
“Thanks.”
Ezra glances at Aidan. “Stay here for a minute and… calm yourself.” He wraps an arm around me, his hold more timid than Aidan’s, yet solid. “And you, hold your breath and bat your feet.”
Ezra presses my back to his chest, and I abandon myself to his grasp as we plunge under the roots to emerge in the middle of the pond.
Zeke squints down at us. “What were you two doing down there?”
“I’m teaching Beth how to swim. You want a turn, shadow man? No one wanted you here, but as long as you found us, we might as well make good use of our time.”
Zeke curls his fists. “You want a piece of me, Lightbringer?”
“I have zero interest in you, actually.”
“Don’t taunt me.”
“What are you going to do? Wait for me to get out of the pond to punch me?” Ezra cracks. “You can’t swim.”
My feet bump solid ground, and Ezra loosens his hold. He grazes the nape of my neck with his thumb in lieu of goodbye, still bouncing off insults with my fiancé.
While the two men posture, Aidan discreetly peels himself out of the pond and into the lowest of the shallow pools. He rubs down his face with both hands, the dangerous spark burning in his amber gaze taking a life of its own.
“Enough, you two. Either fight like men or shut up already,” Devi clips.
Willow waves me over emphatically, now standing alone in the highest pool, and I move to join her, but Zeke stops me. “Babe. A word.”
He takes me aside.
Everyone is still watching, and I think he means it that way. His hand curls like a wolf’s jaw around my elbow. “You can’t do that, you know?” he whispers.
“Do what?”
He stands a little taller, still speaking too low for anyone else to hear. “Act like a tart with your boobs hanging out, grinding against Lightbringer in public.”
A hot, almost suffocating mix of rage, shame, and self-consciousness engulfs me. All three emotions compete for the title role in this hideous play we’re enacting, when only righteous anger would suffice. “I was not?—”
“Are you hearing me?” he asks as he bends down to peck my cheek.
But I sink my nails in my palms, a hiccup dribbling up my throat. I know who holds the power in our non-relationship, and it’s not me. “Yes.”
“Good.”
My jealous, possessive fiancé kissed a second-year very publicly this week, a fact almost every student with a mouth has run by me since then, to see how I’d react, and his hypocrisy makes me want to claw at his smug face. An undertow of humiliation ices what’s left of my good mood, and I quickly climb to the tartan blanket.
Elio snaps his book shut. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I roar, snapping inadvertently at the only man here who’s never put his ego above my well-being. “But I’m done with dumb swimming lessons and stupid, stupid boys. And for clarity, that does not include you.”
Elio climbs to his feet. “I’ll walk back to the Abbey with you.”
Tears wet my cheeks as he dusts off his blanket and wraps it around my shoulders, ushering me away from the others. I must have been under a spell earlier. From now on, I won’t let Aidan, Zeke, or any other jackass prince within two feet of me.
The next time I’m tempted to give into my most basic urges, I won’t be so quick to forget what the price for being carefree is. It’s too expensive for a moth.
One night of passion isn’t worth the freedom I can buy with a Royal Academy diploma in one hand and a Shadow mask in the other. Morpheus can strike me down where I stand, but I’m not marrying a misogynistic pig just to become queen. The countdown to graduation begins.
Chapter 13
Crush
