He’s hiding in the Astrology Room, lounging in his chair with five books floating around him and papers spread across his lap. Has he given up on the university entirely? I haven’t seen him even pretending to study recently.
“Go away, Kyrie. I wouldn’t want you to get ideas and start?—”
“If you finish that sentence,” I interrupt, “I will stop helping you. Are we clear?”
His jaw snaps shut, eyes glowing with ice sharp enough to cut. “Are you blackmailing me now?”
“Boundaries aren’t blackmail, and I am not a punching bag for you to work out your frustrations on. I’mtryingto help you.”
The battle of wills between us is tight, twisting and strained, and his scowl only intensifies the longer our staring match goes on.
“Is it help, really? You seem too distracted to get anythingdone. You’ve fucked five different heirs in less than seventy-two hours.”
“That’s not true.”
His knuckles turn white on the arms of his chair. “So you didn’t fuck Lambert after the game? And I didn’t walk in on you sucking North dry two nights ago? I suppose Jasper’s hickeys were my imagination, too?” He scoffs. “Those three I get. But Pierce? Then Dakari straight after?”
“I was arguing with Pierce. There was nothing sexual about it!”
“Did you fuck him?”
“What?”
“Dakari. Have you fucked him?”
The realisation crashes into me like a bolt of lightning. “This isn’t about the ensorcellment at all. You’re jealous.”
His teeth gnash together. “Jealous?”
“You turned me down. Now you’re upset because Dakari didn’t. You hate the Talcotts, and you hate the idea of him having me even more.”
Somehow, I’ve drifted closer, until I’m standing between his spread knees, so I catch the flash of panic that runs across his features.
“Maybe I do,” he retorts. “Maybe I wish it was me, not him, who got to peel back your layers and make you beg. Maybe I stay up all night, cursing you for haunting my dreams, and the idea of that eejit touching you makes me want to beat his bloody head in. But unlike him, I’m trying to protect you, and what thanks do I get for it?”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to be jealous of any of them. You had a copy of the contract. You could?—”
“Don’t.” He’s out of his seat, looming over me in the span of a single breath. “Don’t tempt me, Kyrie.”
Those eyes finally leave mine, dropping to my lipswith deliberate slowness before returning. His right hand rises, wrapping so delicately around the column of my throat.
For some irrational reason, my clit pulses in answer.
“You couldn’t handle what I’d do to you.”
His thumb caresses the line of my jaw. He’s still doing it, I realise. He’s still trying to scare me off.
It’s intentional. I’m sure of it. How much of this is true anger, and how much is an act meant to keep everyone at a distance?
If he learns about the bond between us, his efforts will only redouble.
“I think you’re scared,” I whisper tauntingly against his mouth as our breath tangles. “I think you’re so good at driving people away that you don’t know what to do when you desperately want them to stay. That’s why you provoke me and then spend hours stroking my hair. Stars, you even admitted—How could I miss it?”
“Don’t.” His face is a dead mask.
“You said it would be easy to fall for me,” I challenge. “You knew that because you’re already half-way there. And if you let yourself sign the contract, if you stop needling me like you do, then you think I’ll be the one your ensorcellment steals from you, not Lambert.”
Leo hasn’t moved a muscle. He may as well be a statue. In contrast, my heart is beating wildly out of control, throat bobbing under his grip. Every breath I take is him. Windstorms and fresh paper; a masculine, bookish scent that makes me want to crawl into him and steal it for myself.
