Page 21

“No!” Anger ricochets through me, only this time, it’s all my own. Goddess above, I’m going to murder him if he keeps messing with my head. “Stop that.”

“Make me.”

“What are you, twelve?”

“You may as well be with how inept you are.”

This time, I don’t need his mindcraft to urge me on. I lose control of my anger all on my own. One moment, my fist is at my side, and the next, it’s slamming into his crotch. Air whooshes out of him, and he yelps, bowling over, greeting my knee with his face. His nose crunches, and I use both hands to shove his shoulders.

He collapses to the floor, clutching his crotch and groaning in agony as blood pours out of his nose. Human or paranormal, men all crumble the same when you hit them in the balls.

Squatting, I grip his chin, not so different from the way he used the sword to force me to meet his gaze. I glare at him. “Fuck with my mind again, and I’ll cut off your dick.”

The promise of retribution burns in his eyes. I should probably be more worried than I am, but rage makes me reckless. I shove his face away, standing to a slow applause.

Clap, clap, clap.

The sound echoes around the chamber. Whirling, I shift my weight to the balls of my feet, readying for a fight as naturally as breathing, only to stiffen when I find Bellamy, Drake, and Rowan striding toward us.

Not these jerks again. The Goddess and I are going to have words when I die. It’s like she lives to torture me.

Bellamy stops clapping and smirks at me. His black hair is tousled today and his workout pants and shirt mold to his form. How is it that men can be effortlessly hot? Thank the Goddess I don’t want anything to do with this cocky Foundation. “Is it wrong to find that attractive?” he asks his friends.

They both ignore him. Rowan is watching me with curiosity. His long hair is loose today, dark strands brushing over his broad shoulders. The sleeves of his shirt are tight around his biceps, and the stubble dotting his jawline has grown in slightly since the last time I saw him a few days ago, like he couldn’t be bothered to shave. It should look terrible or sloppy, but on him, it doesn’t.

I glance at my final opponent. Drake is scrutinizing me, probably contemplating ways to squish me like a bug that’s snuck into his house. The mage is wearing black fatigues and a black T-shirt that’s stretched tight over his form. He has abs, and quite a few at that.

Is it possible to have eight?

I bat the question away, overly aware of the soft buzzing of the lights overhead or the way their steps fall on the cushioned mat, muffled but each one as distinct as them. My hackles rise as they stop a few feet away.

“What do you want?” I’m outnumbered. They’re at the top of the second-year ranking, right next to Melody fucking Tweed. Still, I can fight my way out if I have to.

Drake’s resting-dick face hardens. “We’re not here for you.”

“I mean, he may not be, but I could be,” Bellamy says with a fangy smile. “I’m still waiting for that drink.”

I lean away. “Does that really work for you?”

He shrugs. “Most of the time.”

“Of course it does,” I mutter, glancing at Carver as he climbs to his feet, fully recovered. I’ve never loathed enhanced healing more. He really should have lived in that misery a little longer. The blood on his face makes me feel a bit better, though. “Red looks good on you, Coach.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles. He stares, features unreadable, but with a focus so intense, unease is punted into my gut.

Did I make a true enemy? The other students, I can handle, but him? Obviously he has all the power to obliterate me by simply messing with my mind. Side-stepping, I position myself so they’re not surrounding me and I can run for the exit if I need to.

He wrenches his shirt over his head and uses it to mop up the blood that leaked from his nose, smearing crimson over his skin. The tattoos on his arms spread down his back and torso, covering him in grayscale art that begs to be looked at. The V-shape near his hips doesn’t hurt, either. With the blood, there’s something violently beautiful about it.

Too bad he sucks. I may not like him, but I can still objectify him if I want.

I clear my throat. “Are we done?”

“For today. We’ll meet next in two days. Don’t be late again.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.” I glance at the guys. “Are you here for tutoring too?”

Drake scoffs. “No.” The way he says it, as if that was the stupidest question I could ever ask, has me contemplating breaking his nose as well.