“Do you want to tell me what happened back there?” he asks.
“Not really.”
His arms brush against my chest as he crosses them, and I step back, suddenly conscious of the heat he generates.
“Well, I need you to find it in your heart to explain it to me. Because if I’m going to be your alibi, I at least need to know what I’m covering for.”
“That’s funny. Maybe if you weren’t sure you were on the right side, you should’ve askedbeforedragging me out of your room like a dog with a bone.”
He frowns.
“Right side?” A little chuckle escapes his lips, and his tail wags briefly. “Ashbourne, I don’t care about which side is right. You could’ve killed him just because he said your shoes were ugly, and we’d still be standing here. But I know better than to go through an inquiry blind.”
The inquiry…shit. I forgot about the inquiry.
I was so wrapped up in being paraded around Crescent House like a trophy that I forgot why Elliot was rushing me out of the house in the first place.
I wonder if they’ve already been called? Knowing how they operate, Crescent House has been swept by now, and inquisition demands are being prepared as we speak. They’ll have every student in attendance on a list by morning. Ours included.
I take a slow breath and exhale through my mouth, trying to lighten the heaviness in my chest. But even so, I can’t bring myself to look him in the eye as I say it.
“I think…” I pause, fingering the gash in my head. “I think he poisoned me.”
“Poisoned you? With what?”
“A love potion,” I admit, and Elliot’s back to frowning at me.
“That’s impossible.”
“I don’t think it’s impossible. Difficult, maybe. But not?—”
“No, I mean that’s impossible, because I would have smelled it on you.”
He sniffs the air, then leans down to do the same to my lips, shaking his head as he straightens.
“No,” he repeats. This time, trying to convince himself. “I would have smelled it.”
“Well, he definitely did something. I remember that feeling. Like if I stopped looking at you, I might die where I was standing.”
“Looking at me?”
I cringe outwardly.
“Yeah. He must have slipped it in my cup while I was dancing. It kicked in when you found me. But it came right up after the fight started. That’s why I went outside.”
“That motherfucker.” Elliot’s teeth are now grinding, his hands tugging at the choker around his neck. “He tried to touch you?”
I nod, keeping my eyes on the floor as I wait for the accusation that follows.
It’s always the same.
Perhaps I misunderstood. Maybe my feeding got him carried away. Or, my personal favorite—I’m sure he didn’t mean it.
I’ve heard it all before. Every pointless, pre-programmed response in the?—
“Did you ask him to touch you?”
My eyes snap up from the floor.
