Page 33 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You
The heat of the ride drains away too quickly, leaving the cold to seep into my bones.
I tremble as I work, slipping the bridle free, unbuckling the girth, lifting the saddle from his back.
He nudges me gently. I rub him down with a dry cloth, fill his basin, scatter a measure of feed. He lowers his head to drink, and I rest a hand against his flank. The air inside the stable is warm enough, so he won’t need a cover tonight.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his nose. “You were brilliant, as always.”
He exhales against my cheek, and I secure the stall, checking it twice before locking the main door behind me. The keys clink softly as I slip them into my pocket.
The walk back to the dorms is long, but I welcome it. My legs ache, my arms are leaden, yet the silence steadies me.
Sleep will likely evade me, it often does after this kind of rush. But at least the night air lends the illusion that the weight on my chest might be carried away with the wind.
At the dorm I climb the stairs slowly. The lock is broken, so the door needs no card. A small prickle of unease flares as I push it open, but I convince myself it’s nothing.
The building is monitored, cameras are everywhere. No one would be foolish enough to risk the Thirteenth Circle’s wrath tonight. Besides, most people are still at the party.
I step inside and pull the door shut hard enough to make it sound secure. A chair wedged beneath the handle will have to do, it’s hardly effective, but at least it feels like something.
I peel off my soaked boots at the threshold and head further in, shivering as I reach for the light switch.
The room floods with brightness, and my heart lurches violently. A startled sound escapes me as my hand flies to my chest.
Arlo is sitting on the sofa.
As if it were his own room. His shirt is damp and creased, his hoodie tossed carelessly to the floor, shoes abandoned beside it. His hair is slightly mussed, arms spread along the back of the sofa in a show of ease that doesn’t match the storm in his face. His expression is thunderous, his gaze fixed wholly on me.
“What the hell are you doing in my dorm?” My voice hovers between fury and disbelief. Twice in one day. Has the man truly nothing better to do?
He doesn’t even blink.
“Is this your idea of habit?” I snap, pulse hammering in my throat. “Breaking into other people’s rooms, sitting about in the dark? Do you make a practice of it, or am I simply the unlucky exception?”
His gaze drifts to the damp strands at my temple, the rain clinging to my skin, then returns to my face. Still nothing. The silence infuriates me. He has no sense of boundaries.
I remain rooted where I am, I don’t trust myself to step closer. “You’ve made it perfectly clear you can’t abide me. So do as you say, and stay the hell away.” My words come out clipped.
His jaw tightens, but he still doesn’t move. I narrow my eyes. “Say something. Anything. Or better yet, keep your mouth shut andleave.”
He keeps watching. Then, without warning, he rises and takes a step toward me. Another follows. His scent reaches me, and I have to brace myself not to buckle at the knees. The distance shrinks until my back finds the wall.
There’s a look on his face I don’t recognise, no smirk, no cold indifference. Something else entirely.
And it strikes me, with sudden force, that I don’t truly know him at all. The thought unsettles me.
His eyes hold something I can’t name, and it leaves a fine tremor beneath my skin, fear… and something far less sensible.
“Where the hell were you?” His voice cracks the air, sudden enough to make me flinch.
My brows snap together. “Excuse me?”
“I asked you a question,” he bites out. “And you’d do well to answer.”
I lift my chin. “I don’t owe you a damn thing. Where I go is none of your concern.”
“You can’t just vanish for hours,” he snaps, stepping closer, eyes burning. “No one knowing where you are—”
“And why does that matter to you?” I throw back. “You’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t give a damn.”
