I angrily push the loose hair out of my face. I can feel blood smeared along my cheeks and forehead, courtesy of her bloody nose. I’m practically vibrating with hatred as she squirms in his hands, throwing all kinds of curses my way.
Too bad she’s a fucking Veil and doesn’t have the ability to follow through.
“Careful, Heathen, you might want to tuck that darkness back in,” Kingston whispers in my ear.
I’m still so fired up that I don’t even care he has his arms wrapped around me, one right below my breasts and the other tightly around my midsection, effectively keeping me stationary.
“This isn’t over, you bitch,” I warn her, my nose scrunching in fury.
Her broken face contorts in rage.
A dark chuckle trickles over my ear. “That’s my girl,” Kingston breathes.
Ambrose’s glacial eyes rise over the top of Yaretta’s head to land on the arms wrapped around my midsection. They narrow, and his lips pull up in a snarl. Unfortunately, he can’t do much about it because if he lets go of the banshee in his arms, this whole charade is going to continue.
I sure as shit wish he would. I’d love nothing more than to land a few more hits.
I pull at Kingston’s fingers, fighting to get loose. Red clouds my vision, and I want to tear her from Ambrose’s arms. Those same hands that were on me not that long ago are currently wrapped around her.
His eyes fall to my face, disappointment etched in every single line.
Well, you know what? Screw you, Ambrose!
It’s because of him we’re in this mess. Maybe if he had thought about how walking into a dining hall full of students with a past lover might make me feel, we wouldn’t all be covered in her blood.
The dining hall is completely silent now except for the insults thrown back and forth between Yaretta and me, and the occasional harsh explicative Ambrose throws at the ceiling. Kingston is quiet behind me, his arms holding me in place, but he’s not trying to subdue my words. He’s just keeping me stationary. He’s letting me get it all out verbally.
Finally, when Ambrose hands Yaretta off to another high-ranking Veil who carries her out of the dining hall, kicking and screaming, the fight leaves my body. I all but go limp in Kingston’s arms.
Ambrose storms over, fury overtaking his features. “What the hell was that all about, Nori?” he seethes, leaning in close to my face.
“Why don’t you tell me?” I snap back.
He exhales loudly and raises his harsh glare to the man standing behind me. “You can let her go now, Adair,” he orders.
Kingston stiffens behind me. “Careful, Ballard. I don’t follow your orders. I outrank you in more ways than one,” he says in a quiet, lethal tone.
Ambrose grinds his teeth and steps forward.
I tap Kingston’s thigh. “I’m good. You can let go of me now,” I say. The last thing we need is another fight breaking out. This one would make mine with Yaretta look like child’s play.
His arms slip from my waist, and he steps back.
I turn to look at him to say something. I don’t know if I should thank him or yell at him for pulling me off her.
His bronze eyes are unreadable as usual, the obsidian ring adding a touch of forbidden to his stoic exterior. His hair is slicked back, the top slightly longer than it was when I first met him, although the sides are still just as short. His lips lift in a smirk, and he tilts his head at me in a silent acknowledgment. He raises his head and throws one last glare at Ambrose, before heading toward a table full of Noctryns who are watching the ordeal like their favorite pastime. I can’t look away as he sinks into a chair, the aura of a predator coming off him in waves.
Koa throws him some kind of fruit, which Kingston catches with one hand before sinking his teeth into it. Koa must feel me staring because his ash-colored eyes fall on me, his braids tumbling over his eyes as he grins in my direction.
“Have you lost your mind?” Ambrose voices, full of reproach.
I swivel my head back to him, my fingers itching to smack him across the face. I’m not sure where this violence is coming from, but I won’t lie and say it doesn’t feel good to just let it out. All of it. To not be a doormat for once.
I move closer to him. “Well, Ambrose, where do you think it’s coming from?” I ask, dissent lacing my words. I have to raise my head to glare at him, which loses some effectiveness, but standing on a chair would look ridiculous.
“I don’t know, Nori. You tell me,” he growls.
“Oh, now I’m Nori. What happened to Norissa?”
