Page 181 of Echoes of the Banshee

It keeps ringing in my head the rest of the afternoon. It only gets worse when the guys drag me to a pickup game, insisting that I’m not allowed to be alone.

I’ve been sitting there for a while, lost in my thoughts, barely pretending to read, when the bleachers rattle as someone approaches. I glance up quickly and audibly groan.

“I heard about your kidnapping,” Ethan’s voice slithers into my space, low and oily.

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine,” I tell him simply, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave me alone.

“If you hadn’t rejected me, you never would have been taken,” he drones, his tone darker now, almost gleeful at the idea.

“Really? What would you have done with magical cuffs on? You would’ve been useless. Well, more useless.”

“They put magical cuffs on you?” I can feel him recoil from the idea, but it isn’t concern — it’s offense, as if the insult was to him personally. “I would’ve killed them for touching you.” His voice drops, thick with dangerous promise. “I should kill them.”

A chill prickles at the back of my neck.

“Aren’t you glad I rejected you now?” I ask with a forced smile, knowing it’ll rattle him and hopefully push him away.

The silence stretches too long, taut and heavy. I almost think he’s gone.

We he speaks again, his voice scraping low and raw.

“You think those boys on the field can protect you?” he spits, venom curling his words. “You think they’ll keep you safe?”

He stalks away without waiting for a response.

I watch him go, my skin crawling. Ethan isn’t just angry. He’s cursed. Like B was.

Dammit. I have to save his sorry ass.

When I look at the field, I see B watching me. I give him a thumbs-up, trying to signal that everything’s fine. He doesn’t look convinced. It takes a shot nearly getting by him to finally pull his attention back to the game.

Unfortunately, after Ethan’s interruption, a stream of people trickles in. Spiritbornes asking about the kidnapping, hungry for gossip. Nightblinds whispering about me and B. By the time the boys head for the showers, I’m ready to set something on fire.

“You guys want cafeteria food or head down to the diner?” B asks, jogging up with wet hair and an easy smile.

“Diner,” I say immediately. “I’m tired of people.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I noticed you had an audience.”

We change direction, heading downhill toward town.

“Your eyes should’ve been on the game,” Dylan scolds. “Even Carter got one past you.”

“Well, excuse me for almost dying yesterday!” B retorts, then grins to show he’s mostly joking.

“I only saw two get by him,” I add. “So which of you didn’t score?”

Zair and Dylan start bickering even though I know they both did. I wink at B, and he falls into step beside me.

“What did Ethan want?” he asks under his breath.

“Same as always,” I mutter, brushing it off.

“He didn’t do anything like Friday, right? I didn’t see him touch you.”

“No. He didn’t bind or kiss me.”

The words taste like ash.