If he knew what I was thinking, I don’t think he would be so encouraging, and if he thinks calling me a pig is enough to insult me, then he’s an idiot. Instead of telling him that, I shove a bite of food into my mouth. It tastes like sawdust. It could be because I burnt my mouth on the soup, or it could have more to do with the fact that I don’t even care what it is, as long as it fills the hole in my gut.
There are a few times when I have to stop eating and swallow convulsively because my food is threatening to come back up, but there is no way I’m going to let that happen. Will I regret it later when I’m bloated and have stomach cramps? Probably, but that’s a problem for later me.
“At least you don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mick observes with a snort.
Just to prove him wrong, I ask, “When do I get my schedule?” around a bite of nondescript mush.
He shakes his head in disappointment. I’d bet there’s even an eye roll, not that I bother to look at his face.
“After you go through your assessment. Do they not evaluate trainees at the Ivy?” He places his elbow on the table, leaning in too close for comfort. I don’t lean back like my initial instincts beg me to. I don’t want to show any weakness.
I shrug instead of answering outright. His probing question is giving me an idea. I just need to be patient, and maybe a little aloof.
“When will the assessment be?”
“Soon. How was the food? A bit different than what you’re used to, I suppose.”
“Food is food.” It’s another noncommittal response, but I’m confident I’ll be able to use his curiosity to my advantage. It seems as if he’s just dying to know about the Ivy. I wonder how much that information is worth to him.
After cleaning my plate, I sit back in my chair and allow my eyes to wander, checking out the novices and the space. It’s a dark room for being on the third floor, but considering there are no windows, I’m not all that surprised. I thought I might get a chance to take a look outside, but I haven’t seen a single window yet. It makes me wonder how much colder it would be if there actually were windows to allow even more of the frigid air in.
Nearly everyone is donning a cloak of some sort. I would cut off a toe or two to have one of the fur ones like Mick’s. I try not to let my gaze linger too long on any one thing or person, so it’s hard to learn much of anything, but the overall ambiance is more somber than the Ivy.
“How do you know what time it is?” I question, not in any hurry to get up or return to the dregs.
“Was there a clock on every wall there or something?”
“No, but the windows helped. At least they let you know if it was day or night.” I give him the first taste of an answer about my last accommodations.
“Ah, that wouldn’t help here—not this time of year anyway. We only get an hour or two of sunlight.”
“Really?” I can’t hide the awe from my tone. I didn’t know there was such a place.
“In the summer we get a little more.” He says it plainly, letting me know this is something he’s long been accustomed to.
“No wonder it’s so cold,” I mutter mostly to myself.
“I would tell you that you’ll get used to it, but that would be a lie.” He drums his fingers on the table then adds, “Is it warm at the Ivy?”
“I think any place is warmer than here.”
“You don’t answer a question directly, do you?” Mick muses.
“I can.” I let him hear the possibility in my tone.
“And what would that take?” His voice is a little firmer but nothing to worry about yet. We’re both still feeling each other out.
“That depends on the question.”
“You do realize I could make you tell me whatever I want to know.” His eyes move over my face in a way that makes me want to squirm and get the hell away from him, but I hold my ground.
“You could try, or we could enter a mutually beneficial partnership,” I offer.
He leans back in his seat, his eyes never leaving my face. I note for the first time how gray and stormy the blue in his irises is. I easily recognize the fact that he’s attractive, yet he still repulses me. Part of me understands it’s because he isn’t Ziv or Kage, but there’s another part of me that knows even if I met him before I knew of my mates’ existence, I wouldn’t like him any more than I do now.
“You certainly are entertaining, flower.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap. Something dark wells up inside me that makes the thought of stabbing him in the eye or even peeling his skin off seem like too small a gesture.
