I look down at my lap. If I lifted my gaze a touch higher, I would find the residual excitement tightening his trousers—
But I leave that to my peripherals and, drawing in a deep breath, I decide to give him the answer he bargained for.
“Father doesn’t want me to read those books,” I start, and hope this will be enough to keep Dray off of me for the rest of the semester, “because he… He knows I feel isolated in this world. And he thinks if I read too much on what I am, and how I’m different, then I’ll feel even more separated from the other witches.”
I lift my gaze, but only to his clavicle. The collar of his shirt is a touch ruffled now, but the smooth black of his cashmere sweater is tidy.
“Father thinks that the more I obsess over my difference, the more I might lean towards others who are more like me.”
It takes him only a heartbeat before, “Others, like the krums?”
I nod, faint. “Because among them, I might not feel so different, so… ostracised. That’s why he doesn’t like me reading too much into any of it.”
A moment passes before I drag my gaze from his collar, up his sunkissed, unblemished complexion, to the hardness of his face.
Unreadable, Dray considers me for a long time.
Hands in his pockets, the sawdust strands of his hair fall into his eyes, and he just burns that cold stare into me.
Then he jerks with a curt hum, and his brows tug. “That explains why you aren’t given a phone. I always wondered about that,” he adds, and his expression settles as he looks me over. “It’s all krum culture on there.”
I nod, because while I don’t have a phone, I do know that witches can’t exactly be obnoxious and open about our existence on the internet.
Dray turns his cheek to me, his gaze finding the storms out beyond the window. “Do you?”
“What?”
“Do you resonate more with them?”
I don’t think about it. I just shake my head.
It’s a non-factor for me.
No matter how bad it gets for me in my world, among my kind, even with Dray, running off to be with the krums is just…
It’s not a real option.
In all the times I ran off to the bus stop, I never really believed I would get on the bus—and go be with the krums.
I wouldn’t know anything about living out there with them. I don’t know how to get an estate to live in, or find servants, or what to do to make money, or how to drive, or… anything, really.
What if I can’t find a servant who washes my clothes really well, and I have to walk around like some of those krums who have creased trousers?
“No.” My answer is absolute. “But that doesn’t mean I like it here, either.”
Dray turns his gaze on me. “The life of a pampered aristos isn’t one to complain about.”
The look I aim at him is nothing short of incredulous. “You have made my life a—”
He holds up his hand to silence to me.
It does.
I can still taste him on my lips, feel him between my legs, the bruises springing over my thigh.
I don’t need to go breaking our deal now, while he has me cornered.
“Your past is your past. I am speaking on your future.” His stare is unflinching. “No matter what path lies ahead of you, it is a plentiful one. You will want for nothing, you will have everything—and that, Olivia, is nothing to complain about. It isn’t the same out there, forthem.” The way he spits that word tells me he means krums. “And who knows, maybe your husband will not be so restrictive as your father is.”
