And he steps away.
A ruthless knot ties deep in my stomach and wrenches me back into my body, stiffness returning to my shoulders and neck.
I drop my arm to my side, hand in a fist.
I’m exhausted. On the razor-thin edge between drunk and hungover. Having come off a day of emotional volleyball.Because of him.
Coal’s insistence that I go to sleep makes a lot more sense now. I had no business trekking around the castle in this condition.
I’m crushingly aware of Loch behind me, his miring gaze on the back of my head.
But he barks, “Now get to bed, boyo.”
“Bed?” is the only thing that comes out of my mouth.
“When I beat you in the race tomorrow”—his voice is a little rough—“I do na want it to be because you’re tired and hungover. I want it to be because I’m better than you.”
The paint from his fingers is drying on the back of my hand.
I should snap back at him. But I don’t. I’m being the bigger person. That’s right. I’m choosing not to take his bait.
I keep my eyes on the floor as I crouch to set his palette on the tarp. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
“And drink more water.”
That jars my defensiveness when I’m a foot from the door. I don’t look at him, but my lip curls, and all I can think to say is a childish “Make me.”
Real smooth.
I know he’s smirking at me. Iknowhe’s smirking.
I bolt back into the frigid dark of the castle’s basement hall like plunging into an icy lake, a crash of sensation-shift, hot to cold. I stagger, catch myself on a corner in the dark.
That was… weird. Right?
That was weird.
He did this to throw me off, didn’t he? Was this another power play?
But it… why did itwork?
Oh, I am in no condition to answer that.
I’m going to go to sleep. I’m going to go to sleep, and in the morning, it won’t be weird. It’ll make sense.
Yeah.
In the morning.
Chapter Six
I do not feel terrible when I wake up the next day. Mild headache, slight nausea, but overall not as shitty as I expected.
I shower in the room’s ensuite. The water scalds away most of my headache—until I see the paint on the back of my hand.
My eyes follow the lines of the multicolored strokes.
That whole thing last night had to have been a power play, and I was strung out enough to waltz right into it. He remembered I thought he was hot and used his…hotnessagainst me. He was in his element, that painting studio; I fell into his hand. Literally.
