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ChapterSeventeen
THORNE
Islammed my locker closed, loathing the necessity of such a mortal convenience. I had a private shower and changing area, perks of the family name, but in times such as these—when I was intent on ‘bumping into’ a certain pretty dove—convenience trumped indulgence. Thus my willing use of the men’s changing room.
Our conversation had been interrupted, and I intended to finish it. A mission that would be much easier to accomplish from here. Ideally, by intercepting her on her way back to her flat and locating a nearby alcove to pull her into until I had her moaning my name in defeat. She thought I’d let her go easily? Not a fucking chance. I may be a prince, but I was far from a gentleman.
I may not be able to sink my teeth—or my cock, for that matter—into her, but that didn’t mean I was about to let her go off seeking pleasure in the hands of any other man, either. Sunday Fallon was mine. And it was well past time she realized it.
My thoughts were interrupted by the hum of dozens of whispered conversations and an unfamiliar twinge in my chest. I’d worked hard over the years to control my ability to read the thoughts of others, to insert myself into their minds. Here at Ravenscroft, it was part of the code of conduct agreement to respect the privacy of all students and staff. But this was different. This was...
Sunday.
I’m not sure why I was certain she was at the center of whatever was going on, but I justknew. Rising, I crossed the room in a few ground-eating strides, stepping out of the men’s locker room the same moment Callie vacated the women’s.
She was wearing her cat-that-caught-the-canary smile when her gaze found me, looking far more poised than she had the last time I’d seen her.
“What did you do?”
“Who, me?” she asked, pressing a nearly perfect, manicured hand to her chest. The polish was chipped and one of her nails jagged from her sparring match with Sunday.
I allowed myself a small smile at the visible evidence of her resounding loss. Donoghues, like Blackthornes, rarely lost anything. To do so in such a public fashion could not be sitting well.
“Answer the question, Callista.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned. “No, I don’t think I will.”
I raised a brow. Not at all used to such outright defiance from her. She was usually all simpering sweetness and ready to bend over backward to please me. I wondered if she finally realized I wasn’t planning on touching her with a ten-foot-pole.
There wasn’t anything Callista Donoghue could offer that I was interested in. Our parents might have negotiated a marriage contract, but I had no intention of seeing it through. Not before Sunday had entered the picture, and certainly not now. Though, Iwoulduse the relationship when it suited my needs. Which it did to drive a wedge between me and the creature of my obsession. Not that it worked.
Seeing that flare of jealous possessiveness in Sunday’s eyes when she saw Callie claim me was burned into my memory. My cock thickened at just the thought of her desire for me. And the proof of it only fueled my own need.
I stalked forward, grasping Callie’s chin in my hand and jerking her head up. “Yes,” I snarled. “You will.”
Her breath hitched, and her pupils flared. Apparently, Callie had a thing for pain. I could work with that.
Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. “You saw what she did to me. I couldn’t let that wolf bitch get away with it. No one insults us like that, Noah—”
“Donotcall me that,” I growled, my voice ice cold and deadly serious.
She blanched. “But, Sunday—”
“Yes. She did. But you may not. Ever. I am Thorne to you. That’s all I’ll ever be. Now... what did you do to Sunday?”
Anger flared in her dark eyes, and she sneered up at me. “Exactly what she deserved. An eye for an eye and all that.”
“You bit your own cheek, didn’t you? Sunday never drew your blood.”
She sniffed. “As if she could. But getting her kicked out of class was only the beginning.”
Panic buzzed through my veins. It felt off... too real to ignore and yet not wholly mine. I shoved it away, wanting answers. Still gripping her jaw, I shook her. “What. Did. You. Do?”
Callie winced as my fingers bit into her cheeks. “See for yourself.”
Sweet lilac wine filled my senses before I saw her. And then, Sunday emerged from the women’s locker room, completely nude, cheeks flushed red with anger and embarrassment she was working to control. My breath caught in my chest at the sight of her, lush curves, tight pink nipples, wet hair trailing down her shoulders, the ends stopping just before the tips of her breasts. The most perfect creature I’d ever seen, and yet, instead of appreciating her beauty, I was witnessing the brunt of Callie’s cruelty.
“Bloody fucking hell, Callie. You’re more childish than I gave you credit for,” I muttered as I tore my shirt over my head.
