“No.” I laughed falsely. “I’m cured.”
Cobra spread his arms wide and blocked the student who was still trying to charge at us as he proclaimed, “It’s a miracle. Especially after you let yourself get stabbed just a few days ago. Good to see you’re doing better.”
I stumbled, and Sadie righted me.
How did he know? Had Malum talked to him? No, the king thought he was above the shifters; no way he would have told them something so personal.
It must be a lucky guess.
Recovering my composure, I relaxed my posture and smiled. “Awww, thanks for your concern,” I said condescendingly. “Also, don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. Sadie’s told me all about your little problem in the bedroom?”
“What did I say?” Sadie whispered in my ear. “I don’t remember.”
Sun god bless her.
The student we knocked over tried to push past Cobra, but this time, the snake shifter said, “You just threatened two of the champions in the war.”
The man paled, and his eyes widened as he realized who we were. He bowed respectively. “I didn’t know, forgive me.”
Cobra slammed his foot down. “You’re not forgiven.” Bones crunched, and the student went down with a scream.
A dark corridor.
Glowing blue swords.
A bear roaring.
Infected dying.
High-pitched chittering.
A woman screaming.
I tripped and looked down.
It was a body.
CRACK.
“Snap out of it.” Cobra slapped me across the face, and the party (funeral) came back into focus.
I touched my lip, and my finger came back red. The cold liquid hardened into ice.
“Thanks,” I said sincerely.
“Don’t mention it.” He grunted and stepped away. “Seriously, never talk to me again. Better yet, forget I exist.”
“Who are you?” I asked with feigned confusion.
A slow smile curled his lips as he pulled Sadie to his side, tucking her under his shoulder protectively.
He looked at something behind me and pulled his mate into the crowd. Before the dancing bodies swallowed them, Cobra winked.
I cocked my head in confusion.
His meaning was clear a second later when long fingers grabbed my cheeks and pulled my face to the side.
The hand was freezing.
Harsh.
Unrelenting.
A tongue licked across my lower lip wantonly, and I was just depressed enough to enjoy it. I trembled.
“Why is my Revered bleeding?” Scorpius asked menacingly as he shook my head back and forth. “I heard a slap, is that what this is from? Who do I need to kill?”
He breathed roughly, and warm air puffed against the side of my face.
The blind king stood flush against me. He curled his body around mine like a dragon hoarding its treasure.
I’d noticed that he was doing it more often.
Shielding me with his flesh.
“It’s not blood,” I drawled, my cheeks pressed against his fingers as I forced my lips into a smile. “I’m just overflowing with existential dread, practically bursting at the seams.”
He didn’t release my face.
Instead, he rubbed his wide chest against my back and purred, “Seriously, who am I killing?”
I leaned back against him and swayed.
“No one.” I sighed. “I slapped myself because I was trying to feel something. Sadly, it didn’t work. I’ll make sure to use a shovel next time.”
Warm breath fanned against the side of my face, and for a long moment, we swayed to the music in a toxic imitation of dancing.
One began where the other ended.
“You’re a shit liar, Arabella,” he said harshly in my ear.
I slammed my elbow back into his sternum. “My name is not Arabella. It’s Aran.”
Instead of letting me go like I’d planned, Scorpius moaned and jerked his hips against my ass.
Hardness pressed against me.
He curled his one hand around my face so his fingernails pressed against my skin in five pinpricks of pain. He palmed my core with his other hand.
Fire exploded down my spine.
I whimpered.
“If you wanted it rough, you just had to ask.” His hips swayed against me faster, in time with the music. He clutched my pussy through my sweatpants like it belonged to him.
Arousal pooled inside my stomach.
Male and female students shot me dirty glares, and it took me a second to remember that everyone at the academy had Stockholm syndrome over the kings.
They were all deranged.
Not me.
Nope, I had my head screwed on straight and a crystal-clear understanding that the three of them were psychopaths.
In fact, I was so intelligent that I was letting one of them publicly fondle me. Slay (in the sexual sense).
I sucked on my remaining three pipes.
Desire flamed hotter.
“The problem is,” I whispered as I melted back against Scorpius, “I fucking hate you.”
His grip on my core tightened. Fingers massaging.
I shuddered.
My hips jerked against his hold.
Scorpius nuzzled the side of my face and breathed harshly into my ear. Goose bumps exploded across my skin, and I shivered violently.
“Don’t worry, Arabella, I forgive you for your cruel words.” He tightened his hands and a spasm fluttered through me.
I pressed my thighs together and said weakly, “Release me.”
“But you don’t want me to.” He laughed, and the sound was filthy.
My voice dripped with frost. “But I’m telling you to, and you’re not listening. Some Protector you are.”
He released me like I’d burned him. He stepped away, and his expression was dark. “I’ll always protect you. Don’t you dare question that.”
I scoffed.
Ignored the wetness between my legs.
“You tortured me when I was a man and when I was a woman. Turns out you’re an equal opportunist piece of shit. How progressive.” I clapped mockingly, and manic chuckles burst from my throat. “Also, you are literally the opposite of a Protector. You’re a cruel, insecure bully.”
It was just so funny.
I sucked harder on my pipes, and everything became a little hazy.
Scorpius remained in harsh focus.
Shadows filled hollow cheeks, cheekbones glinted razor-sharp, unseeing, milky white eyes narrowed, and full lips curled back.
Something new flashed across his features, and his mask cracked. “What do you need from me?” His teeth clicked as he gnashed them. “How do I fix how terrible we’ve been? I understand now how horrible the things are that you’ve gone through.” He choked on the last word like he couldn’t say anything more.
What did he mean?
Why does he now understand?
“You can’t,” I whispered with confusion. “It’s too far gone.”
He flexed his hands.
Tilted his head to the side and slowly fell to his knees.
“What are you doing?” I gaped down at him. “Stand up.” I pulled at his wide shoulders.
“No, Arabella.” Scorpius’s voice was harsh, and he remained kneeling in the crowd of bodies.
Students and soldiers stopped dancing to stare.
Why was a king on his knees?
Confusion was written on all our faces as the sadomasochist bowed his head submissively. The posture was wrong on him. Foreign.
“Please forgive me, Arabella Alis Egan,” he spoke loudly so everyone could hear.