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I’m screwed, I realize as I find myself in a quiet grove, away from the trail and the windows of the dormitories. I prepare to scream only to find a hand slamming over my mouth, muffling any sound.
More girls lean over me, sneering faces that almost look demonic in the evening twilight. More feet kick me in the ribs, in the legs, and I’m dizzy for lack of air.
This is bad. This is very bad. Why did I let my guard down? Being in Sindri’s room, being around him, has thrown me off balance. Seeing him shirtless, having his attention on me, having an excuse to stare at his body, his face… It has thrown all my good intentions out the window, thrown my mind for a loop.
So I let the girls sneak up on me, walking too slowly on the path, not paying attention when I should always look over my shoulder.
Too late for hindsight now.
I twist on the ground, try to field the kicks, but it hurts worse when the blows fall on my arms.
“Use your magic, witch, I dare you. Show us what you got!” one of them says.
“Shush,” another mutters. “Don’t.”
“She can’t create spells without speaking! Without blood.”
“Witches use the old magic.”
But I don’t have demonblood or elemental magic. I got nothing to defend myself with. I don’t have the boys’ magic, their strength, their resilience.
Sindri!I think.Ashton, Emrys, Jason!I see their faces in my mind, hear their voices, feel… Feel pain burning through my blood, my bones, my entire body, a raging storm that has nothing to do with the blows raining on me.
The air around me seems to heat up and the earth underneath me trembles. Little beads of my sweat rise in front of my eyes, strangely hypnotic as they float, sparkling in the small flames rising from my hands.
What’s going on?
“Ow, her skin burns!” the girl who’s got her hand over my mouth cries out. She lets go of me and I draw a long, uneven breath. “What’s this?”
“Magic,” another says.
But I’m not doing this. Am I? I can’t. I’m not magical.
As the girls step back and away from me, the droplets fall back on my face, the flames vanish as if they’d never been, the air and the earth settle.
It was all in my mind, I know. But what got the girls so scared?
Then I see them coming through the trees and I think I know. It’s the four of them, the four boys, dark scowls on their faces, their hands curled into fists at their sides. Sindri is still dressed only in pajama shorts and his robe, I note distractedly, which should look ridiculous but looks sexy instead, while Jason is wearing shorts and running shoes, golden chest on display, and good God, Emrys’ and Ashton’s arms are sculpted works of art, and…
I close my eyes for a second as the world spins lazily, opening them again just in time to catch the boys hauling the girls away and shoving them toward the dormitories, snarling profanities at them.
Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I made it to my bed and am now lying under the covers, imagining that the boys are here, that they came to rescue me. It’s not a wild dream—after all, each one of them has saved me on occasion.
And that means something, right? Dream or not, this is important. They came for me, saved me time and again. Sindri said he didn’t share those videos. Maybe it’s true. Maybe they aren’t out to hurt me.
This is what I cling to. These boys are arrogant and annoying sometimes, but they haven’t hurt me.
I’d expected them to bully me. But that wasn’t what they did to my cousin, was it? They made her think they’re nice and then broke her heart, right? So where does that leave me?
Where does it leave me when Jason kneels beside me and carefully lifts me in those powerful arms, his eyes dark with concern? He gets up with no visible effort and I’m held close to that hard chest, inhaling his scent of the woods and all the wild spaces.
“Is this Zoey’s doing?” he growls.
“She wasn’t here,” I whisper, starting to doubt that this is a dream. I don’t recall such dreams where I’m torn between the pleasure of being held by one of the boys and also hurting so much I want to throw up.
“I recognized some of her Wicked Girls,” Emrys says.
“This is war,” Jason mutters. “We retaliate.”
