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I raise my chin in defiance, lifting my eyes so they can meet his. Poisonous anger burns between us.
“This isn’t—No.I’mnot your business. You may control everyone else, your highness, but I am not everyone else.” I snatch my arm out of his grip.
“It’s a simple question.”
I shake my head. “Not a simple answer.”
He pushes me closer to the wall beside the front entrance, his dominance on full display.
I push at his chest, and it’s just as immovable as the wall behind me. His scent filling my space does nothing more than boil my anger to rage because my traitorous soul misses his touch.
“Answer the fucking question.”
“You want a fucking answer…” My voice is steady and eerily calm. “Fue por ti. Fue el precio que yo pague.”
Sheer confusion plagues his eyes as he tries to absorb my words. He moves to speak, but I’m already pushing his chest, shifting angles so that I can break free.
“That’s enough, your highness. It’s a long way down from your high horse.”
I walk away just in time for Celeste and Taylor to catch up. I really need to work on biting my tongue. I just gave him way more than I ever planned on ever giving him—much more than he deserves.
12
Ifinish brushing my teeth and getting ready for what will most certainly be a shitty day. Celeste skipped out on our morning workout, so I figured I could get a good run to the lighthouse while she slept.
Not even halfway there, though, it started raining. That was the sign I needed. It wasn’t a heavy rain but definitely too cold for what I was wearing, and I had to turn back.
Sigh.I miss southern California weather.
“Bye, bitch. Have fun with Weaver,” Celeste shouts as she walks out for her day of educational enlightenment.
She gets to go to her photography class while I get the joys of having to meet with Dr. Weaver for his mandatory extra credit sessions this morning.
Apparently, my time off is over, and I’m back to both the damn therapy sessions with Dr. Lewis and meetings with Dr. Weaver. Add the fact that Taylor didn’t drop off Sugar & Spice this morning as promised, and I really wish I could stay in bed.
My caffeine deprived veins vibrate in warning, but when I check the clock, I’m already running late. I slip my butterfly knife into my back pocket, grab my kitty knuckles and backpack, and head out the door.
Walking out of Emily Hall these days is a serious test of my patience. I don’t know if it’s because of the video, Genna, the Knights, or because they’re just plain bitches, but one of these days, I’m not going to ignore the stares and whispers—just not today.
Thanks to Taylor’s absence, I might end up actually murdering someone, so I opt for the high road yet again as best as I can.
Outside, I put on my earbuds and the hood of my hoodie up to cover my head or… is it the hood of my jacket even if said jacket doesn’t have a zipper? I look down at my black and red hoodie, wondering what people call this piece of clothing here. Would they say, “hood of their hoodie”? Why does that sound wrong?
Who the fuck cares, Evelyn?
I take a deep breath in and attempt to let out the ridiculous level of annoyance I have flowing in my veins. I should have stayed in bed.
I grab the straps of my backpack so I can feel grounded to something and head towards Dr. Weaver’s office.
I make it to the main building when Method Man’s “All I Need” starts playing in my ear, and my skin pebbles. The last time I heard this song was with Elijah before my sister died.
A stolen summer night full of old-school hip-hop songs and Jose Cuervo. I pull one of the ear buds out and try to shake the memory as soon as it appears.
Gee. Of course, universe, please continue to shit on me this morning.
I’m deep in an internal debate with myself, playing both the universe and the victim, when a shadow comes out of nowhere and blocks my path forward.
Without moving my head, I peer through my lashes to see Elijah fucking Jackson’s storm gray eyes glaring back at me.
