“I thought you messaged Rion,” I murmur, acutely aware that I didn’t question it; I had just assumed, but look where that got me.
“I did,” Ocean says with a shrug, like Thorne’s presence isn’t an issue.
My lack of breathing ability while in his close proximity means I can’t say the same thing.
Unaware of my struggles, Ocean moves toward Thorne and his delicious offerings, taking two of the three coffee cups with a mumbled thanks. The warmth of the cardboard presses against my palm a moment later as she offers me one, and I silently wish I had requested my favorite hot chocolate instead. I don’t think I need the buzz from the caffeine anymore.
Thorne must sense my inability to communicate with him because he wordlessly places the pastry bags on the table before taking a step back. I expect him to keep his head dipped as he backtracks out of the room as if he was never here, but to mysurprise, he glances from the stack of books to me and back again three times before he speaks.
“What are you guys doing?” he asks, running the tip of his finger over the fabric cover of one of the books. I shiver at the touch, and it’s not even on my body.
Fuck.
Ocean doesn’t bother to answer before she disappears, making my breath lodge in my throat.
When he blinks at me expectantly, I clear my throat. “Research,” I offer, and he cocks a brow at me.
“On?” he pushes when I don’t immediately take the hint, and I shrug.
“Nothing important.”
He inches closer as though my short and snippy responses are an invitation and not an invisible barrier between us. Why is he looking at me like that? Is that a smoulder? Or can he feel the same heat I can burning deep in my soul?
When he’s a breath away from me, so close that we’re almost standing toe to toe, my breathing comes in short, sharp bursts as I try to stay calm, but it’s impossible. I feel lightheaded all over again, but I refuse to fall into his arms like last time.
“What are you researching, Echo?” he rasps, and I watch as his fingers flex at his sides.
“We’re trying to learn about scythes and anything that will lead us to learning about Elodie’s past,” Ocean answers effortlessly as she reappears at the table, giving away my mild truths without a care, but I don’t have time to glower at her before Thorne interjects.
“You’re not going to find that in here,” he blurts, and I freeze.
“What are you saying?” I murmur, my pulse ringing in my ears as I stare at his lips while I wait for his answer.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, and I run my tongue over my bottom lip as I dare to bring my gaze back to his. Amusementdances in his dark pools, reminding me of just how hot and cold this asshole is. That’s why I’m lightheaded. It’s all of the whiplash he gives me.
“It’s concerning how many times you’ve asked me that lately,” I mutter, folding my arms over my chest, and he tilts his head to the side, his eyebrow still raised in question.
“Do you?” he pushes, making my chest tighten as I relent with a nod. “Good,” he mumbles, lifting his hands at his sides.
Black smoke drapes the room in a matter of seconds as he trudges toward the same wall Ocean stopped at earlier. With his palm pressed against it, I frown, ready for darkness to completely consume me, but it doesn’t entirely obscure my vision as I anticipate. He seems to make sure I can see him at all times.
Just as quickly as it came, it disappears, but our surroundings look nothing like they did moments ago.
“What on Earth?” I whisper as Ocean gasps.
“I fucking knew there was something! That’s why my magic drew me to that wall,” she yelps, slowly spinning in a circle in the new room we find ourselves in.
The bookshelves look as if they go on for miles, and they stand twice as tall too. There are ladders on runners everywhere to aid with the height, but it’s the spot in the center that captures my attention the most. One large table sits dead center, with The Sanctum etched into the woodwork, while above sits the most stunning stained glass I’ve ever seen. A mixture of pinks and purples swoop into a cloud of pale blues and greens, while the opposite side darkens into oranges and deep reds. But what I think I love the most are the obnoxiously large signs hanging from the ceiling that detail each section, none of which I’ve seen before.
Pre-Sanctum Era.
Proposals.
Records.
Rebellions.
The Institute Games.
