Page 18 of Lost and Bound

He shrugs before weaving us through the crowd, acting like we’re the only ones in the hall. Except we’re not, we’re surrounded by other students. I think my reaction is made worse because everyone is in their colors too. I need to ask Orion who wears what again, but there’s a hint of danger in the air that stops me from asking until we’re alone.

I ignore all the glares thrown my way, and the whispers as I pass too. It doesn’t mean I’m relaxed by any means. Honestly, I feel like I’m about to throw up, but I walk next to Orion, borrowing some of his confidence.

It’s all going well until I trip right near one of the biggest tables full of students wearing uniforms the color of golden honey.

I don’t just trip, though; I fall flat on my face. The thud of my head on the floor sends stars shooting through my vision for the second time in a handful of days. I can’t move a muscle, locked up in shock and pain, which gives the entire dining hall the opportunity to see what has happened.

Behind me comes laughter, and without question, it’s directed at me. It’s cruel, and I want to run away from it. As soon as the pain eases up, I’ll try to reclaim some dignity.

Eventually the hall stops spinning. It takes a while, and the whole time, their laughter winds around me like a tornado. It’s only when I’m sitting up do I see what I tripped over.

My eyes move from the foot still stuck out where I tripped over it, and I follow it all the way up to the face of the person it belongs to.

“Careful, Nom. Don’t harm yourself at breakfast, we need you. All of us need you.”

He might have a pretty face, along with a halo of golden curls, but it’s the venom in his words that holds my focus.

I hate confrontation, I truly do, but I also hate bullies. I memorize his features for later, because the other thing I know is that bullies love an audience. He and I will be having a little chat about his stunt, but not here and not now.

“That’s quite enough,” a voice booms from above. “We’re not in high school.”

The voice speaks so loudly that it rattles the windows and is delivered with an air of authority that instantly silences the crowd. The guy who tripped me stands and offers me his hand, feigning innocence.

Orion’s warning about touching others has me climbing up to standing without his help, and burying my hands in my pockets. I also turn my head slightly, like I’m looking in the opposite direction as I walk around the guy’s outstretched hand. And yeah, I’m being petty, completely ignoring his staged gesture, because you’d have to be clueless not to know all he’s doing is trying to belittle me further.

I close one of my eyes and breathe through my mouth after a few steps because I can feel something warm dripping down my face. I focus on getting to Orion and, given the slightly horrified way he stares at my forehead, I know what’s happening, but I have to handle it with as much dignity as I can.

Stopping next to him, my back now to the crowd. “I have a problem,” I say quietly.

“I’m really sorry, Maya. I should have taken us the other way around.”

“It’s fine, honestly.” I wave his apology away, trying to deal with the issue that’s about to become a very large one. “But, Orion, we’ve got a problem. I can’t do this…” I point to my face as a way of not saying the word.

He looks as perplexed as you’d expect, not catching on until my eye starts to twitch as the drip becomes impossible to ignore.

“Shit, really?” His voice is low, but he doesn’t drill me; he looks around before he darts away.

“Thanks,” I offer before he’s too far. It’s hard putting all my trust in him, but I have to so I can focus on not fainting and making the whole situation a hundred times worse.

I swear I shut my eyes for the briefest moment before the beating pain, and the dripping, is replaced by something completely opposite. I lean into Orion’s touch as he presses something cool and soft against my forehead.

“Oh my god, thank you,” I whisper.

“You’re welcome,” someone answers.

But it’s not Orion.

My eyes blast open, and my heart jackhammers so hard I think I’m having a heart attack. “You’re not Orion.”

“True. I’m not. Now who are you?” While he speaks softly, I don’t move my eyes from his mouth—or more accurately, the very obvious fangs in his mouth.

He lifts his hand away, and I will myself not to focus on the red coating his finger. He stares at me, and I get locked into a weird state where my thoughts are vapid and floaty.

“Don’t you dare start that shit!” someone shouts from behind me.

Another person answers, “She is fair game until things are decided.”

I’m not sure what they are yelling about, but it’s obviously about me. Before I can ask what is going on, a flash of green flies across my line of sight as the guy in front of me is tackled to the ground.