Page 17 of Coveted

I swear he nearly smiles then. As he slides two fingers under the bra band, the barest hint of amusement ghosts over his features. My heart thumps wildly against his knuckles.

I glare at him, my nostrils flaring. “Hurry up.”

“I’m having so much fun though. Aren’t you?”

“Let me take a swing at you,” I say. “That’ll be fun.”

Lucan hooks onto the pennant, rubbing his knuckles needlessly back and forth over my skin, worsening both my goosebumps and my shame.

“You’re a degenerate,” I say.

He pulls out the pennant in a flourish, holding it high over my head.

“Mine.” He says the word into my face like a threat.

“Get off me now,” I say flatly.

“I claimed your pennant. That means you have to kneel and accept an order from me.”

“Like hell.” I screw up my face. “You want me to kneel in the mud?”

Considering me, he pauses. “Not here. Not now. I’m making sure you know the rules, since you’re new.”

Sarcasm drips from my voice. “You’re so considerate, Lucan Hale.”

“You’re so welcome, Sadie Marlowe.”

Too bad for him, I fully intend to avoid him forever.

Lucan releases me but stays close, bearing down on me. His fingers knead the ivory felt of my pennant in his hand like he’s pretending it’s me.

Beyond creeped out, I pushed myself from under him, stumbling on a tree root.

I guess I’ll return to the quad in defeat. I hope Clara and Juliette are okay at least.

“Why aren’t you wearing it?” he asks, stopping me in my tracks.

His words take a moment to sink in properly.

I narrow my eyes at him. “What did you say?”

“Why aren’t you wearing it?” he repeats in the same maddeningly casual tone, his eyes drifting to my neck.

He can’t mean the locket. There’s no way.

But what else would he mean?

My voice lowers to a harsh whisper. “Wearing what?”

Lucan’s mouth opens like he’s going to speak, but then his face swivels around as he looks back into the trees.

Did he hear a noise?

He frowns, his jaw set.

After dragging a heavy gaze across me, he prowls into the trees. Back in predator mode.

“Wait,” I call after him, torn. I want an answer, but I don’t want to follow him. “What did you mean?”