Fuck.
I quickly tap out a message and hit send before I tuck it away.
Rion: I’m here. I'll go check.
As I inch toward the door, Warren snarls. “Are you really going to leave me here again? I'll fucking scream and shout until somebody hears me,” he bites, his words bouncing off the walls around us as I race back toward him.
I don’t think, I just move as my boot lifts this time, and I kick him in the face, watching as the chair falls backward. He’s knocked out cold immediately. Despite the joy I feel at leaving him in this state, I yank the chair back up to a sitting position, making sure his binds are still in place.
This motherfucker is not breaking free.
Maybe I should message Thorne to come and heal him again, but that can wait. I dart for the door, locking it behind me.
As I rush up the steps and out into the afternoon air, I freeze when I spot the blood staining my hands and curse under my breath. Hurrying toward the outside faucet, I let the icy cold water wash the blood away. A familiar scent dances in the air as I reach out to shut the water off, and I bite back a growl.
Nothing smells so sweet, so enticing, so euphoric as her.
Shaking my hands off, I make my way around the building as quietly as I can, watching as she steps out of the front doors, her lips twisting as she folds her arms over her chest. She looks deep in thought as she turns in the opposite direction, staring off toward the barren trees with a sigh. She dips her head.
“Where the hell does a wolf go when they need to calm down?” she mutters to herself, and I grin.
“It depends; are your thighs an option?” I mutter, and she stiffens, spinning around to face me with her jaw slack.
She rakes her eyes over me from head to toe before she speaks. “You did not just say that,” sheflusters, tightening her arms around her middle as I wag my eyebrows.
“Did it work?”
I watch as her eyes narrow and her thighs clench. “No,” she insists, shaking her head as she pushes her shoulders back, and I grin.
“Liar,” I call out, and to my surprise, she doesn't protest as she waves me off.
“Are you hurt?” she asks, stepping toward me, and I shake my head as she grabs my hand, pointing out a few spots of blood that I missed. I wipe my hands on my jeans before waving her off. She doesn’t push further as I reach for her hand and tug her around the far side of the building, edging toward Institute Thirteen’s perimeter where the bare trees fill the space.
It's eerie but inviting.
I don’t know what I’m doing or where we’re going, but she follows me until we reach the largest tree, and I spin her in place before nudging her back a step to press her against it.
Her pupils dilate as she blinks up at me, and I sense a question in her eyes before she speaks. “What’s with Professor Drayker?” she asks, and I gulp.
“Nothing.”
Everything.
She tilts her head and her eyes narrow. “There's something,” she insists, her voice surprisingly gentle as I shrug.
“There's nothing.”
I want there to be nothing.
“But there was,” she breathes, and my throat tightens, desperately wanting to end this conversation right now.
I can’t explain that my eyes have been opened, that I’m feeling the tendrils of shame at the hands of someone else, and I don’t want her to see that in me. But there’s a part of me that wants to give her everything.
“Do you really want to know?” I ask, and her eyebrows pinch as she bites the inside of her cheek.
“I don't know,” she admits, her pulse quickening, and I lift my hand to her cheek, placing my forehead against hers.
“Why?” I whisper, my lips a breath away from hers as she gulps.
