“Don’t be stubborn,” Thorne growled, reaching forward to grasp me around the back of the neck so that he could hold me still. He pressed his wrist against my mouth, his nostrils flaring when I kept it clamped firmly shut. “Open your fucking mouth and drink, Witchling.”
“She doesn’t seem to want it, Headmaster Thorne,” Iban said, and something about the caution and disbelief in his voice made me believe it wasn’t something that the Vessels offered often.
“Must you be so impossible?” Thorne asked, finally withdrawing his wrist.
I waited until the puncture marks healed over before I let my lips part enough to speak. I carefully wiped the blood off my face with my forearm, not allowing a single drop or smear to touch my tongue.
“Must you be such an asshole?” I asked, ignoring the choking sound Iban made as I took a step away from Thorne. The younger male was quick to step with me, supporting me as I did my best to walk on my own. My legs felt like Jell-O beneath me, trembling with each and every step.
“At least have the decency to carry her if you want to pretend to be chivalrous,” Thorne barked, and I felt the way Iban twitched in response.
“I’m not pretending to be anything,” he protested, but he made no move to pick me up. That suited me just fine, as having him assist me with walking was embarrassing enough. I didn’t need him to realize I was too heavy and drop me.
“For Hell’s sake,” Thorne groaned behind me.
I took another step, and nausea swirled in my gut when my foot never touched the stone. My world went upside down as Thorne swept my feet out from under me, catching me beneath the knees and placing his other arm around my back.
I squealed as I flung my arms around his neck without thought, the blueness of his stare far too piercing when we were this close.
“Put me down,” I whispered, swallowing down my unease.
Greens were not meant to be off the ground entirely. Even stone tile was better than this Hell.
“Do shut up, Miss Madizza,” he said as he strode forward, making his way down the corridor and toward the entry hall we’d entered the school in. There were no remaining students to mingle, and all was quiet as he headed for the stairwell.
“Rude,” I snapped, squirming in his grip.
“All that will do is make me more inclined to drop you,” he said, his gaze pinned on where he was going as he carried me. He was careful not to jostle me too much as the ache of my depleted magic settled into my bones.
I scoffed. “As if you aren’t already inclined to do that.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled at the edges as a deep rumble began in his chest. It was a rare, genuine smile, and I stared in shock as his lips spread into a wide grin.
“Do you ever get tired of your own attitude?”
“I do not have an attitude!” I protested, my eyes wide. If I hadn’t been too terrified to release him for fear he may drop me, I might have slapped him for the incredulous way he glanced at me from the corners of his eyes.
I could feel the silent, “really?” in that look.
“Is that so?” he asked after a moment. He climbed the stairs as if I were weightless in his hold, even though he and I both knew that wasn’t true.
I was average height with an hourglass figure. My body had a decent amount of muscle packed onto it, all lingering beneath a certain love of chocolate and sweets that softened my curves. I loved my “mid-size” figure, but I’d never met someone who could carry me up several flights of stairs.
“You seem to bring out the worst in me,” I admitted, seething as I had no choice but to admit that while he was difficult and inherently evil, perhaps I wasn’t exactly cooperative either.
He chuckled, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Likewise, Witchling.”
“Do you call all the Hollow’s Grove students Witchling? Is it because you can’t be bothered to remember their names?” I asked, curiosity driving me as he rounded the corner at the top of the third flight of stairs. The farther we went from the earth below, the more I hated this damned place.
“Just you,” he grunted, not offering any further information as to why I was so fortunate to receive a nickname I hadn’t asked for.
“Lucky me,” I groaned as he kicked open a set of doors. The hallway before us consisted of only a single door on either side of the corridor, and he lowered me to my feet in front of the one on the right.
“Key,” he said, holding out a hand.
Iban deposited an antique-looking brass key into his hand, and I blushed as I realized that I hadn’t even noticed he’d come up the stairs with us. His eyes snagged mine as if he knew it too, and my blush deepened.
Headmaster Thorne was dangerous in all the worst ways if I couldn’t even notice my surroundings when he held me in his arms.
Hell’s sake, I was damned.
Thorne slid an arm around my waist as I swayed, trying to reassure myself that my exhaustion was the cause of my distraction. His other hand slid the key into the lock on the door, turning it until the old wooden door swung open. He deposited the key into the back pocket of my black jeans as he reached around me, his mouth only a breath from my own.
“This is grossly inappropriate,” I muttered, watching as his lips twitched into a smile.
“So is calling your headmaster an asshole,” he murmured, patting the key with two swift but firm taps that made me twitch in his arms.
He guided me through the door into a common area with four chairs and a sofa lingering by the fireplace in the corner. There was a small kitchenette with a refrigerator and sink beside the door. On either side of the room, two doors waited. The one on the left was open, revealing a small, but pretty bedroom.
“I assume that’s mine?” I asked, peeling myself away from Thorne’s grip. The room swayed as I walked toward it, but I lingered in the doorway to the private room as I glanced in.
The walls were painted a light gray, the sage-colored drapes opened to reveal a view of what I felt certain were meant to be gardens. The headboard of the double bed was upholstered in a fabric the color of sand, the linens a light, natural cream. The chandelier that hung overhead had pink and yellow interspersed through it in the shapes of delicate flowers. A single wood nightstand rested beside the bed, with a bouquet of roses in a vase set upon it.
“Does it meet your standards?” Thorne asked, knowing it was far more elegant than the home I’d shared with my mother and brother.
“It’s lovely,” I admitted with a hesitant sigh. I bit my lip as I stepped in slowly, glancing toward the gardens that needed my attention. I was already tired just thinking about it.
“Good. Classes begin in the morning. I’m sure one of your roommates will be happy to show you the way,” Thorne said, retreating back into the role of Headmaster.
My thoughts scattered, scrambling frantically for a way to bring back the man who’d carried me up the stairs. Love didn’t exist for a Vessel, but the lust he showed was something I could work with. Something I needed to work with if I wanted to find my aunt’s bones. I opened my mouth to speak, dread filling me at the thought of what I needed to do.