Page 107 of Stormbreaker

“What’s not fair?”

“You’re . . . You . . .”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Are so much better at this?”

“You tricked me,” I hiss, trying to sit up, but he keeps me trapped on the floor.

“I did nothing of the sort—you assumed. Just like you always do.”

“We need to talk about this!”

I glance to the side to see if anyone’s noticed that we’ve stopped. Thankfully, everyone’s attention is on someone across the room who’s lying on the floor, blood oozing from his nose.

Rook squeezes my wrists tighter, pulling my attention back.

I go still, fully taking in the intimacy of our position. His warm body between my thighs. His hard stomach against mine. His breath skates over my exposed collarbone, pulling up goose bumps that I really hope he doesn’t notice. The last thing I need is for him to know how he affects me. I’ll have no leverage left at all.

“A storm is coming,” he says in a low voice, and I nod because I feel it, too.

“You followed me that day.”

He exhales softly. His breath touches my mouth, and I lick my lips as his gaze zeroes in.

“I wasn’t sure if you saw me.”

“I wasn’t, either, but then you were there on the train and . . .”

“Right,” he says. “I need . . .” He looks up to ensure no one is watching us. Then he shakes his head and shoves off me, kneeling between my legs. I sit up, missing the crush of his body against mine.

“So do I,” I say. He needs to absorb a cloud burst. He’s probably been struggling within these contained walls, too. The hit I received in the simulation only took the edge off. It wasn’t enough. “You don’t have to do it alone. We can go back to the edge of the city.”

He’s looking down with his hands on his thighs. It takes a moment before he glances up. “Sneak out?” he asks, and I nod. “What did I say? Trouble.”

I narrow my eyes, not sure I like what he’s implying.

Then he sighs and gives me a skeptical look. I sense his shell is cracking; he just needs a little push. A whistle blows, signaling the end of training. Everyone breaks into happy conversation as they head for the changing rooms.

“Tonight,” I say to Rook. “Please.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches before he stands up.

“Fine,” he answers, and then he’s gone.

40

Rook agrees to meet me later that night at one of the back entrances of the school that leads into the tunnels.

He claims it’s never guarded, and I don’t ask how he knows that.

When I arrive, he’s already waiting, leaning against the wall with his arms casually folded in that signature way I’ve come to know. For a moment, he doesn’t notice me as he stares into nothing. I wonder what he’s thinking about as I study the slope of his nose, the angle of his cheekbones, that glint of the silver bar piercing his eyebrow.

How his perfect mouth tilts at the corners like he’s recalling a fond memory.

He’s wearing his Amery-issued leather jacket, which conforms to his thick arms and shoulders. Skies, he looks good.

I sigh inwardly, shaking the thought away because that’s hardly useful right now.

When he notices me, he straightens and drops his arms. I wonder if I imagine the hint of a blush on his cheeks, then wonder even more what he was thinking about.