Page 13 of Revenant

“Yeah, no shit,” she deadpans. “Everything is going to be fine, you’re severely overthinking this whole thing.” She’s not wrong. But her reassurance doesn’t prevent the contents of my stomach from stirring. The longer we stand here, the more I can feel heads turning our way, gazes pressing into the side of my quickly heating face.

Moriah must notice my fight-or-flight kick in. “Let’s get you a drink.” She grabs my hands, the ones that are still subconsciously picking at themselves, and pulls me behind her through the crowd. We stop at a makeshift bar someone must’ve set up. A portable countertop that looks anything but sturdy, housing red SOLO cups and liquor bottles that are almost empty.

Great, there goes that plan.

Moriah steps behind the bar, disappearing for a moment before popping back up, two beers in hand. She pushes the cap against the edge of the counter, slams her other palm against the top of the bottle, and I watch in amazement as the cap pops off. Taking it without hesitation, she does the same to hers before taking a long swig. “That was impressive.”

“That was nothing. Just wait, a few more of these, and you’ll get to see all my party tricks.” I laugh, taking a drink before gaining the courage to look toward the party. Thankfully, the lingering gazes taper off, and my shoulders slump with relief.

Maybe it was all in my head.

A few faces filter in that I recognize, either from class or just walking around campus. And I’m thinking that after a few more of these myself, I might have the courage to leave the bar.

Reyna shows up like she stepped out of thin air. One second the space to my right is empty, the next, she’s there, reaching past my shoulder for a drink. She doesn’t say anything, or even acknowledge my existence really, but when she turns to leave, her arm brushes mine.

A sharp, static jolt zaps across my skin. Sending goosebumps skittering up nearly every inch of my flesh.

I flinch before I can stop myself, my hand instinctively pressing against my arm where we made contact. Looking up, I expect her to be doing the same, housing a similar confused look to mirror mine. However, Reyna doesn’t react at all. She just keeps walking, slipping back into the crowd as if this kind of thing happens to her all the time. She stops beside a guy I faintly recognize from the cafeteria—the guy who took my tray from Pryce at lunch. Reyna leans in, saying something meant for only his ears, and whatever it is makes him look at me in haste.

I look away first.

Moriah continues talking about something—the lack of decent alcohol, I’m not sure—but her voice fades when another movement catches my eye. My breath hitches as two figures emerge from the shadows and cross the clearing. Their presence demands attention, and against my better judgment, I can’t take my eyes off them.

They both look like they just walked off the cover of a magazine for men who ruin lives for sport. Pryce in a dark jacket, hands shoved in his pockets. Koen in a black button down that fits like a vise, fussing with the cufflinks before sliding them into his pockets and rolling the sleeves, acting as though he’s preparing for a photoshoot instead of a bonfire.

It’s no surprise Pryce spots me first, like he has some built-in radar that never fails. His steps slow, then shift to change direction completely, as if he has no choice but to come my way. Koen follows without question, not even bothering to look up.

The closer they get, the wider Pryce’s smirk becomes, in tandem with the sinking of my stomach.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, tesoro,” Pryce muses when he reaches me. His voice is soft, with a hint of something curious beneath it. Amusement maybe? I don’t miss how his eyes track up and down my body, slowly with precision, like he’s cataloging every curve to memory. Suddenly, I become very aware of how exposed I am, and my arms instinctively begin wrapping around me. He clocks it though, of course he does; this man would notice if my breathing pattern changed. His eyebrows pull together slightly, revealing the smallest twinge of uncertainty, but he doesn’t speak of it.

“Moriah convinced me,” I admit, doing my best not to sound like his presence isn’t making me a little flustered. Or that it might have factored into the decision more than I would ever willingly tell a living soul. Despite that, his gaze doesn’t waver from where my arms attempt to shield me from possible scrutiny.

His hand reaches out as if compelled, wrapping his fingers around my arm, sparking a flame that ignites my flesh. “Non nasconderti da me, tesoro.” My cheeks heat, and it has nothing to do with the blazing fire a few feet away. I have no idea what he said, but I can’t help but feel it was endearing. The comfort of my arms falls away, and I take another drink to give me the courage to keep my feet planted.

The fire behind him crackles, painting his features in a sudden flare of orange. For the briefest moment, his eyes catch the glow in a way that doesn’t look normal. Not reflective, but more like his soul absorbs the light, allowing it to sink in, deepening the color.

I blink, and it’s gone. Maybe I imagined it and the effects of the alcohol finally are starting to set in—I’ve always been a bit of a lightweight. Or maybe…I’m losing my mind. Both are solid options, and neither calls for elimination just yet.

Koen clears his throat, and Pryce straightens, as if he forgot we weren’t alone. “We’re meeting up with some people,” Koen says, giving me a nod that feels oddly respectful. “But we’ll find you two later, yeah?”

Pryce’s eyes flick to the tree line, then back at me. “Do me a favor and stay close to the fire.” His voice sounds reassuring, but his words couple with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I must look too eager for him to say more, because he continues, and I can’t help but savor it. “No telling what monsters are lurking between the trees.”

Koen snickers, shaking his head, and whatever concerns were clouding my thoughts vanish.

There’s a moment of hesitation on Pryce’s part, like he can’t decide what to do next, and just as I think he’s going to leave, that stupid, core clenching smirk dances on his lips. He reaches out taking my hand in his, and without breaking eye contact, he bends slightly as if bowing, gently pressing his lips to the top of my hand.

I forget how to breathe. My brain short circuits as though he electrocuted my nervous system. He lets my hand float back down to my side, then…wordlessly leaves. Poof. Gone as if he didn’t just rewire my entire existence with a simple kiss. Koen falls into step beside him, both disappearing into the crowd as easily as Reyna did.

The second they’re out of sight, Moriah grabs my arm with more force than I would’ve given her credit for. “Did you see Koen?!” she exclaims, eyes wide. “Did you see him? Because I saw him, and I think I blacked out for a second.” She takes another swig of beer, stars still dancing in her eyes.

I laugh, the tension easing just a little. “You’re ridiculous.”

“He was wearing that shirt on purpose,” she insists, fanning herself dramatically.

“Have some dignity,” I joke.

“My dignity went right out the window the moment he stepped into view.”