Aros rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, and then brought them back down to me. “Please tell me you didn’t just say that.”
“Listen, Three, you can have honesty, or you can have what you want to hear. Choose, dammit.”
“I’m angry at you, Rocks, not the other way around.”
“I can be angry too!” I tossed my arms up, frustration coursing through me. I was angry, but I was also glad that the focus had been shifted from what Aros had walked in on. Until I opened my mouth and accidently brought it right back into the center of attention. “Why are you angry anyway? I remember the pact pretty distinctly, you know. I remember the rules. The rules said nothing about being between my legs, just about being inside my vag—”
A hand wrapped around my mouth from behind, and Coen’s chest pushed up against my back, his mouth against my ear. “It’s a good idea to stop there,” he murmured.
You’re probably right, I thought.
Aros was shaking his head. “Nothing sexual,” he corrected me. “The pact was that nothing sexual could happen with you, because we don’t want anything fucking up our group dynamic. We don’t want you to die because of our powers. You get that, don’t you, Rocks?”
It almost sounded like a chastisement, and I immediately felt bad. I extracted myself from Coen and wrapped my arm around Aros’s waist, attempting to give him a chaste, girl-brother hug.
“Sorry,” I grumbled, bumping my forehead against his chest. “Do you forgive me?”
He grabbed my arm and drew it around his neck, pulling my other arm up there too. He didn’t answer me, but his body language was pretty clear. He forgave me. He was also a big fat liar, because his hands were low on my spine and he was pulling my body tightly to his.
This wasn’t about the pact.
This was another damned competition. Assholes.
I started to draw away, but before I got the chance, the door snapped open again, colliding with the wall.
“Oops.” That was Rome’s voice—which wasn’t a surprise, because he was the only one who didn’t seem to know how to open a door without almost destroying it. “Hey—what the fuck?”
I started pulling away again, and attempted to find my feet beside the bed. Unfortunately, the shorts tangled my legs up and I had to reach out to Aros to steady myself. Coen also grabbed the back of my shirt at the last possible moment, pulling the material halfway up my torso.
And that was when Yael decided to walk in.
“What the f—” he started, before Aros’s laughter drowned him out. Even Coen was smirking. I guess they’d forgotten their fight with each other, but now I could sense a new fight brewing.
Also, I was basically flashing everyone again, so that didn’t help.
I quickly twisted away from Aros and Coen, pulled the damn shorts up, and made my way over to the door, grumbling beneath my breath. Rome had his arms folded over his chest, and a glare aimed in my direction. He seemed to be waiting for an explanation of some kind. I hoped the others were in an explaining mood, because I certainly wasn’t.
“Where’s Five?” I demanded.
“Right here,” came Siret’s voice from the hallway. In a blink, he was standing in the doorway.
I walked to his side, took his hands, and placed them on my shoulders.
“New clothes,” I grunted.
“They teach all dwellers such good manners?” he asked, turning me to face the others and pulling me back into his chest.
Even though I hadn’t been very gracious in my request, I still felt his power trickling over me, and I worked to push away my temper. I was just beginning to relax into the feel of magic on my skin when a cold, sexless voice penetrated the room.
“All sols and attending dwellers are expected to make their way to the arena within five clicks. This is mandatory.”
“What?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure the voice couldn’t actually answer me. “I thought we still had half a moon-cycle before they called in another arena session.”
Rome hadn’t stopped frowning since entering the room, but now he was scowling. “The gods must have come down early and demanded another show. This isn’t good.”
“How do you know it isn’t good?” I asked, as the black fabric that had begun to encase me started to shift—from pants into a dress, and from a shirt into the upper-half of the dress. The colour also changed from black to purple. Of course, I needed to look fancy for the arena. “Maybe it is good. Maybe all the gods are going to channel their … erm … energy … into watching people fight, instead of wrecking the whole world from a distance?”
Siret stepped back, taking me by the shoulders and spinning me around as everyone else finally stirred themselves into action—it seemed that they had been held momentarily transfixed as Siret dressed me, but were now remembering the disembodied voice that had called us all to the arena.
“They’re perfectly capable of multitasking,” Siret answered me, checking over my outfit before pulling me out of the room. “They’re not like you. They can focus on more than one thing at a time.”
“Are you saying that I’m stupid?” I wrinkled my nose, allowing him to pull me down the corridor.
His clothes were changing as we walked, shifting into the battle-gear that I still wasn’t quite accustomed to seeing. Or at least that was my excuse for almost losing my footing every three steps when I couldn’t seem to focus on both staring at his chest beneath the straps that now crossed over it, and walking.
“Concentrate on walking,” he said, illustrating his point, “and we can argue about it later.”
I heard heavy footsteps behind us, and turned to see the others following, all dressed in their battle outfits. Not that they ever did much battling. Yael mostly just stood there while people humiliated themselves; Siret stood there while pretending to fight; Rome and Aros preferred to hit once, and hit hard. And Coen … well, I hadn’t actually seen him fight anyone. I didn’t count, because I was pretty sure the other girls he fought didn’t feel like jumping him whenever he got close. They were probably too busy wetting themselves. In the bad way.
“Rocks! Watch where you’re—”
It was too late. I smacked into the wall on the other side of the common room, because I’d been too busy trying to crane my neck around to get a better look at the guys. Now I was on my ass again, and it wasn’t just the Abcurses trying not to laugh at me, but a bunch of stupid, blessed sols, too. They were all on their way to the arena, but they certainly had time to stop and watch me fall over.
I bounced back up before anyone could help me up—or pick me up without even offering to help—and then I was marching off toward the arena again.
Nine