“What?” I snap a little harsher then I mean to.
“You okay?” Aydin asks me.
“Yeah," I say unconvincingly, even to my own ears.
He looks at me curiously, but I don’t answer the questions in his eyes.
“Any update on when the reader will be here?” I ask monotone.
“He should be here next week," Lachlan answers, just as short and terse.
Ryker asks Lachlan if it’s Tearson who’s coming, but I don’t focus on what they are saying beyond that. After I catch a couple more curious looks aimed at me, I decide I need to try harder to snap out of my pissed off funk.
“So, when do I get to start kicking your ass, I mean training?” Aydin asks playfully.
I take a minute to think about his question. Maybe this is exactly what I need right now. I’m used to training hard and fighting harder, and I miss it.
“Whenever you’re ready to be humbled, I’m good to go. Should we start tomorrow morning?”
“I can’t do the morning, but I could do late afternoon,” Aydin replies.
“I’m watching this," Bastian declares, giving me an excited smile. I try to match it but fall short, and Bastien’s smile dims.
“I think we all want to see what Vinna can do. Be prepared for an audience you two,” Lachlan tells us, and I try not to frown at what sounds like more of a threat than an effort at comradery.
I’ve watched my uncle this past week, and he’s completely different withthe boysthan he is with me. He’s invested and warm with them, and their dynamic is easy and seamless. It shows me the guy that the sisters insist he is.
But watching him with them doesn’t give me hope that someday he’ll turn the warmth of his smile my way. It just crushes me in a vice of cold indifference, pulverizing any longing I have to be worthy of his affection.
It’s as if I can see everything I’ve ever wanted through a window, but as soon as I manage to get inside, everything’s rotted and wilted to nothing. Things will never be for me like they are for them. I will never have what they have, and it makes me rethink what I’m doing here.
I came to learn about magic and what I can do. Instead, I’m trying to untangle myself from useless attraction and mooning over why my uncle doesn’t care about me. I’ve been here for only a couple of weeks, and I feel more confused and lost than I ever have before.
I stay quiet throughout dinner. I answer a few questions and make a couple of comments, but aside from that, I tune the others out and try to focus on the setting sun, instead of the biting jealousy and loneliness I feel.
I give myself a mental slap to rein in the pity party I’m currently attending. I’m not here for this; who cares if any of them like me. It’s time to get what I came for and get the fuck out of here. Let the reader come and tell me all about what I’m working with. And if these paladin won’t teach me, I’ll find someone who will.
I push in my chair and retreat inside before anyone can stop me. I flick the lock on my bedroom door behind me, and I grab my phone to call Talon. It goes right into his voicemail, just like every other call has. I stare at my phone for a moment, missing him, missing his protection and the easy way we were around each other.
I grab one of the books I stole from Lachlan’s office and slip under my covers. The binding creaks as I open it and the smell of old paper wafts up to my nose. A tentative a knock sounds on my door.
“Vinna can we talk?” Sabin asks.
I don’t answer. I have no desire to hear anything he has to say. I roll to my side giving the door, and him, my back, and I delve into the fine print about offensive magic. The doorknob jiggles, and I stare at the lock to make sure it holds.
“Is she still ignoring us?” Valen questions and Sabin mumbles a response. “What the fuck did you say to her?” Valen demands.
Their argument grows muffled, and I can’t make it out as they move away from my room. Other voices join them before a door closes, and their voices are cut off. I could use my runes and listen to what they’re saying, but I don’t have it in me to care right now. I fluff my pillow and turn the page of the old book, refocusing on what I’m doing here.
* * *
Aydin’s back hits the mat again after I catch him with a low kick that sweeps his legs out from underneath him. I back up so he can get on his feet and engage again, but he stays on the mats breathing hard, drenched in sweat.
Looking at him now, I’m sure he regrets the massive amount of shit talking he did before we got started hours ago. There was excited anticipation floating around before. Bets were made, egos were stroked, and my bloodlust was itching to be fed. But it didn’t take long to realize that Aydin was no match for me and what I can do.
I started to hold back after our second match, not finishing moves or being half as aggressive as I’d normally be. I like Aydin, and I figured breaking him wouldn’t be the solid foundation to a lasting friendship. It’s been fucking torture for me to hold back. I was counting on a serious fight to help release the shit storm of feelings I have swarming inside of me, but I’ll have to figure out another way to deal with all of that once Aydin’s decided he’s had enough.
Aydin pats the floor twice indicating that he’s done, and I relax my stance and put my hands down.
