Well now Theodore wanted to shove him off the rooftop.
Except Kalen would only say that this was Theodore’s fault. They had all told him right from the start that they couldn’t trust her with their secrets when they barely even knew her. There was too much on the line. But they were also the ones who had lied to her first, and there were ten of them. There was only one of her. They all had each other and she had no one.
Were they really going to be dicks just because she wanted one friend on her side?
For the love of all things holy, keep your damn mouths shut.
He glared at them one by one.
“No. I didn’t tell anyone else.” Isobel’s scent was a cherry tree shoved through a woodchopper, splinters and dust flying everywhere, ripe juice running through the gears until it was oily and tainted.
Kalen was treating her like one of his Alphas. Asking the questions necessary to do damage control before he focussed on the emotional side of things—or let Niko or Kilian focus on the emotional side of things. Theodore just hoped Isobel wouldn’t think he was angry at her. Kalen seemed like he was angry all the time, but she would only need to see him truly angry once to know the difference.
Isobel straightened slightly, her eyes flashing up to Kalen’s before flicking around to the other faces. “The assault wasn’t my fault. They had it planned. They had their suspicions, and they were going to torture me no matter what I said. Eve has been torturing me since I came here. I was just too stupid to see it because she’s right. I’m gullible. I believe everything you tell me.”
Her eyes flicked to Theodore, her stare landing harder than the slap he had told her she should give him.
There it is.
Despite the hollow pain he felt at her disappointed expression, he was glad she had said it. He nodded slightly, showing that he understood what she was saying, and some of the lines digging into her forehead eased.
“You’re right.” Gabriel stood from the table, tossing down his napkin. He wasn’t going to eat the food anyway. Not with how many glasses had shattered and the possibility that a shard might have landed on his plate. “Eve was already targeting you. All the students named by her in the attack before spring break are all on camera in different locations. They have solid alibis. She lied to you and the officials. I don’t know who attacked you, but it wasn’t her usual group of Delta friends. The only person at Ironside with a recorded ability to create darkness and shadow is a second-year Beta, Kiki Rayne. As for the other thing … ignore Moses. He’s just worried about Kilian.”
Isobel sat up a little straighter, shocked at Spade’s defence of her. She watched as he grabbed a bread roll and began to walk off, thinking that he was following Cian and Kilian … except he paused at the stairs, looking at her. “Come on, puppy.”
She hurried over to him, so grateful for the escape that she could have hugged him, but he probably wouldn’t have liked that. So instead, she just followed him quietly.
“Are you making sure I don’t try to talk to Kilian?” she asked, as they passed by the door to his room.
Spade didn’t answer, just handed her the bread roll and kept walking.
“Eat,” he suggested as they rounded the lake.
The bread tasted like cardboard and her hands were shaking again, but she obeyed, nibbling it slowly as they walked.
When they were halfway back to Dorm O, he finally sucked in a short breath, slipping her a quick, sideways look. “How are you feeling?”
She shrugged. “Honestly? Not too bad right now.”
“Orgasms will do that. Sex will do more—but I would have to very strongly advise against that.”
She choked on her own saliva and almost tripped over her own feet but at least they were outside and the cameras likely couldn’t hear what they were saying. The students passing on either side of the path, however …
Isobel glanced back at them wildly, but they seemed to be too busy trying to snap pictures of her and Spade—as he caught her elbow to steady her—to have been paying attention to what he said.
“I’m not even going to touch that,” she eventually said. “But thanks for the advice.”
“Anytime.” He kicked a rock out of his way, slowing his pace when she grew tired. “You’re inexperienced. You might misconstrue things.”
“I haven’t misconstrued anything. Theo told me why he was doing it.”
“Oh?” Spade seemed to smile a little. “Good for him.”
“Spade? This is weird.”
“Gabriel.”
“Yeah, I reckon he’s weird too.”
His smile twitched a little wider, but then he licked his lips, and it was gone in a flash. “Let’s be friends, Isobel. I want to keep an eye on you.”
“That’s a terrible reason to propose friendship with someone.”
“It’s not my only reason.” He slowed further and then turned suddenly to the right, forcing her to turn with him so that he wouldn’t collide with her shoulder. He steered her toward the edge of the lake, where there were fewer people, and then took a seat on the solitary bench overlooking the water, his gaze turned toward the dock that she was uncomfortably familiar with.
He tapped the bench beside him, and she sat, tucking her cold hands between her thighs and rolling her lips together, choosing to look anywhere except the dock.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked.
“Because you need to catch your breath. Your heart rate is too high. I can see your pulse jumping in your neck. Even with Theo’s … assistance, this is still your first night out of the hospital and you went immediately into a high-stress situation instead of the bond-soothing activity with several of your surrogates as Elijah had planned.”
“Okay.” She kicked her shoes, enjoying the brush of her soles against the wooden planks. “So what’s the other reason you want to be friends if it’s not just to keep an eye on me?”
“I have two best friends who share a single defining quality. They have sacrificed greatly for me. You exhibited the same quality. By my definition, we’re already close friends. I’m just making it known.”
She stopped kicking her legs, her brow furrowing. “Um … I don’t think I—”
He dropped his head to the side, suddenly giving her his full attention, and the sentence died on her lips.
“You have sacrificed,” he assured her. “Deliberately, though not mindfully.”
“Yes.” She studied his face, trying not to wither under that much attention. “I deliberately but not mindfully sacrifice myself for people all the time. It’s my thing.”
“You’re supposed to use a different tone of voice when expressing sarcasm.”
“Are you a dictionary?”
“Try a mocking intonation. If you forget to make it obvious in the moment, you could add a chuckle at the end.”