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My breath catches in my throat at his words. I've never said anything like that to him. "What are you—"
"I might not know the truth about how you ended up here, but I know you're scared, and I know you're trying to outrun it. But hiding in there,” he glances over my shoulder to my room, “and refusing yourself the chance of enjoying it here, isn't going to help."
"You have no idea what you're talking about." I turn my back on him, ready to slam the door in his face and put an end to this conversation.
"Like fuck you don't, Bex,” he snipes. “Whatever it is, you can talk about it, you know. I won't judge. I just want you to enjoy yourself. You won't get a do-over these next four years."
"Whatever, man,” I grumble. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend."
Exactly as I intended to do, I lock myself in my room and only emerge for our Sunday morning run—where Alex thankfully steers clear of our previous conversation—and to get food.
"So what debauchery did you get up to?" I ask him as we walk toward the Romulus Building for our first class of the day.
"Nah, nothing exciting. Troy got caught with his pants around his ankles last night, though. Some chick was giving him mixed signals, apparently."
"The only signals that asshole gets from girls is that they want to drop to their knees for him."
"Yeah, well. This one didn't. Fucking moron." He laughs as we pass other students on our way to class.
I've only been in this building once before, so I have to take note of the room numbers to make sure we stop at the right one—only before I get to the one we want, my eyes land on a girl. One I remember all too well.
"Mia." Her name falls from my lips without instruction from my brain as I take her in. She's wearing a black AC/DC shirt, a pair of ripped skinny black jeans, and, unlike Friday night where she'd been crying, her makeup is dark and sultry, flawless against her pale skin. Her hair is exactly the same, though, her dark blonde curls almost like a curtain around her in her attempt to hide. Only, I soon realize that there will be no hiding for her.
I don't know at what point I leave Alex behind, but in seconds, I'm standing before Mia, ready to apologize once again for what happened on Friday night.
It wasn't until I lay thinking about her Saturday afternoon that I realized how she might have felt with me rejecting her as I did. I need her to know that it wasn't her, that she didn't do anything wrong. It was all me and my fucked-up head and life that forced me to walk away.
The second she looks up, her breath catches as recognition dawns on her face before her eyes widen and her chin drops in shock.
“Mia, I—”
My words are cut off when a pair of tattooed hands wrap around her body, and when I look over her shoulder, I find she’s been pulled back into Cade Kingsley’s body.
His angry eyes lock onto mine, narrowing slighting as our stare continues. “This douchebag giving you grief, babe?” He smirks.
“What the fuck?” I glower as realization slaps me in the face. “You’re with this asshole?”
4
Mia
I widen my eyes at Bexley, silently telling him to back down. Anger swirls in his baby blues, but I see the flash of hurt there.
Crap.
This is not how I wanted him to find out, but after the other night at the party, I’d assumed he didn’t want anything to do with me.
I knew I shouldn’t have done what I did—throwing myself at him like that, begging him to take me—but I wanted to be in control of when and how I lost my virginity. And deep down, I wanted to punish Cade for agreeing to this whole charade.
&nbs
p; He’s an Electi.
The Electi.
He won’t go against their most sacred ceremony. It’s how couplings have been decided since the beginning, back in the 1800s when Gravestone was founded.
Male heirs of Quinctus pair with a prosapia. According to my father, nobody knows exactly how Quinctus arrive at their decision or who places the name in the calix, but the decision is always final.
