Clenching my jaw, I exhale with a shake of my head. “I’ll figure it out.”
“That’s all I ask.”
I nod, because of course I do. Of course I’ll take the responsibility of another’s safety and well-being, even though I’m not actuallygoodat it.
But this is my lot in life.
Caring even when I desperately wish to stop.
A pair of hazel eyes flash in my mind, temporarily pulling me from the moment. Like some parasite that infected me without my knowing.
Given that it’s been years since anyone interested me at all, I’m beginning to think the woman really was some sort of viper sent to tempt and torture. Who knows what would have happened if I’d let her fuck me the way she was silently begging to?
But just because I didn’t allow things to go further doesn’t mean I didn’tachefor it. That now, an hour or so later, I’m not still replaying the divine sensation of her cunt wrapped snug around my dick or the little noises she uttered when I was making her come.
Putting an end to things was the correct decision. I’m not used to desire. Normally, I don’t want to be touched at all.
But stopping doesn’t keep the soul from yearning. Not when someone leaves their fingerprints all over it.
I walk to the foyer, shrugging into my coat. Mother trails behind, babbling on about council meetings and concerns among the other founding matriarchs that I’m not attending enough in Jean-Louis’s stead.
Pressure explodes in my temple, the feeling of being watched causing pain to ricochet up the side of my skull.
When I glance backward, I spot Jean-Louis leaning against the upstairs balcony that splits the level into several wings. The lit end of a cigar hanging from his mouth burns bright orange among the shadows.
Of course he’s watching. I wonder if he was actually too sick to come down.
It’s likely he orchestrated the entire thing to get Beckett back on campus, where he thinks he’ll be able to play puppeteer once more. All my life, he’s been the manipulator behind the family, pulling strings by planting ideas in our minds and letting us think we were the masters of our own fates.
But the truth is we’re as bound to that damn Fury Hill curse as its supposed subjects. As linked to destruction as Cronus Anderson’s descendants.
Just a different kind. One that destroys from within.
“Sutton?” Mother reaches up, pressing a palm to my face. “Are you all right? You’re suddenly flushed and very warm. Should I call for a nurse?”
Tearing my gaze away from his, I give her a small smile and swat at her hands, needing the space. “I’m fine, Mother. You don’t need to worry about me.”
7
ELLE
I lookat Quincy as I pull my knees to my chest to try and make the confines of her office seem larger. My stomach aches a bit, though it’s hard to tell if those are my nerves or period cramps.
Asher’s the one with claustrophobia, but the longer I sit within Quincy’s small forest—potted ferns, flowering plants, and even a tiny tree line nearly every flat surface that isn’t occupied by occult, botany, and classic leather-bound books—the more I begin to understand his fear.
“What do you need help with?” she asks from behind her desk without looking up.
“What do you mean?”
“I assume there’s a reason you’re hiding out here instead of prepping for classes tomorrow.”
“Is there a lot I should be doing?” I frown, tapping a finger to my bottom lip. “It’s been a while since I was in school, but I don’t remember needing to dothatmuch beforehand.”
“College is a totally different playing field than high school,” she says, sighing. “Tell me you’ve at least gotten your textbooks.”
“Textbooks?” I parrot back, grinning when a muscle twitches in her jaw. “I’mkidding, Q, Jesus. Lighten up. I did get a list of materials I needed, you know. Like everyone else.”
“You’re not like everyone else here,” she points out. “Our last name alone puts you at a disadvantage.”
