“Aurora—”
“No, listen for a minute.” I need to get this out. “I’m not saying this is going to be easy, but . . .” I flick my eyes up until they reach his. “I want to try.”
Tristan leans in and cups my cheeks, his thumbs skimming across my face. “You’re too good for me,” he whispers, and rests his forehead against mine.
“That’s not true,” I say. “Please, tell me you’ll try, too.”
He kisses my brow and offers a soft smirk. “Oh, I’m all in, sweetheart.”
Forcing myself to take a break from everything fae-related and get back to focusing on school, I text Grant to meet up to get our presentation done. I was lucky to get another elective class with him this semester after working together during our last class turned out to be mutually beneficial.
He sends me the address for his apartment a few blocks away from campus, and I head over there mid-afternoon.
“It’s open,” he hollers from inside after I knock, so I turn the knob and let myself in.
“Hey,” I say as I walk into the kitchen where I find him chopping vegetables at the island counter. “You’re cooking.” I glance around at the clean, white cabinets and cupboards that line two of the walls, forming an L shape with gorgeous gray marble countertops. He has all stainless steel appliances, including a fridge with an ice dispenser like the one I’ve always wanted. I never pegged Grant as someone who had a fancy-ass kitchen, but this thing looks like it should be featured in a home and style magazine.
He tosses me a lopsided grin when I look at him. “I am cooking. I thought we could eat and then work. Food is always better than homework.”
I lean against the counter and watch him chop a few more pieces off a carrot. “You don’t have to convince me. I’ll do anything to avoid this presentation at this point. Can I help with anything?” I ask, glancing at the garlic bread on the counter.
He wipes his hands on his pants. “Uh, sure. Want to slice some tomatoes?”
“I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.” My tone is light with sarcasm.
He laughs. “Perfect.” He walks around the counter and hands me a knife, setting me up with a couple of tomatoes and a cutting board.
I slice into one of them, Grant watching beside me, his shoulder brushing mine, as if he’s worried I’ll screw it up. The idea brings a smile to my lips . . . until my head starts spinning. Squeezing my eyes shut at the familiar sensation, I drop the knife and grab the counter.
“Easy there,” he murmurs, his hand flat against the small of my back.
“W-what . . . ?”
“You’re okay,” he insists as his eyes meet mine. “I want you to sit down.” His hand drops away from my back, and he returns to his place on the other side of the counter.
I stare at him without moving.
He peers over at me and frowns. “Interesting.”
Wait a minute.
My eyes go wide. “You just tried to . . .” My mouth goes dry, and my ears ring. “Oh my god.” My fingers grip the countertop until my knuckles go white.
“Would you look at that. You finally figured it out.” He pops a piece of carrot into his mouth. “All those months of slowly feeding off of you so you wouldn’t notice.” He claps his hands together, and I flinch at the loud sound echoing around the room. “Phew, I’m glad I don’t have to hide it anymore.”
He’s been feeding off of me? In class? My stomach churns, and my throat burns with bile.
“You son of a bitch,” I growl.
“Uh-uh,” he purrs. “Be nice now, or I’ll be forced to respond unpleasantly.”
My eyes flick around the room. “Let me go,” I demand in a tight voice.
He smiles without looking at me. “Why would I do that? You’re what I need to win this war.”
My jaw clenches so tight my teeth ache.
“Jules.” His real name comes out as a growl. I spent so much time thinking Dr. Collins was somehow involved, I didn’t even consider that Jules wasn’t a female, or that he was Grant. I was so focused on it being Richelle Collins because of her involvement with Adam. How she always made me feel like something was off about her, and her disappearing when he died. I blinded myself to the real light leader who was using me the whole time.
His eyes flick up and meet mine. “Well done. That’s one point for you.”
No points for me. I was so wrong.
I scowl. “What the hell do you need me for?”
He frowns. “Isn’t it obvious?” He walks back around to stand at my side.
I try to lean away, but he grabs my arm and forces me to stand before him. I swing my fist toward his disgustingly attractive face. “Why are you doing this?” I demand after he catches my fist before it connects. I pull my hand back, growling at the tingling sensation left behind, and try to shove him away.
Quick as a snake, he wraps his arm around my shoulders and holds me against him, his grip too tight to break no matter how hard I struggle. He smoothes a hand over my hair, and a sickening drowsiness trickles in. I should be fighting him off, but standing seems like too difficult a task. My eyelids flutter, and I lean into him to stay upright. “That’s it,” he croons. “Close your eyes.”
Once awake, I blink several times before my vision clears and I can focus on the ceiling I’m staring at. I turn my head so I can look around the room. It’s simple, fair in size, set up with a dresser, closet, desk, and bed. The bed that I’m lying on. I bolt upright. Where am I?
Before I can panic, the door opens and Grant—Jules—walks in, carrying a tray of breakfast food.
“You’re awake,” he says in a pleasant voice and sets the tray down on the table beside me.
I try to scramble off the bed but my legs get tangled in the sheets, and I almost fall off the edge. I catch myself on the mattress at the last second, managing to get the sheets away from me, and slide off, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
My lip curls. “You don’t give a shit about me.”
He frowns and walks around the bed toward me.
I jump onto the bed to get across to the other side, away from him, but he catches my leg and pulls me back, maneuvering himself on top of me, and pins my arms to the mattress above my head.
“Get off of me,” I scream, tears pricking my eyes as I buck my hips to get him off the bed. I grunt, digging my nails into his hands, and he bares his teeth at me.
“Scream away. No one can hear you.” He grins, and I think I’m going to be sick.
I lift my knee and catch him in the stomach as hard as I can. He grunts but doesn’t move, so I do it again and again. He lets go of one of my hands to try to cage my leg, so I use that opportunity to lash out, dragging my nails across his cheek.