“You are.” She doesn’t look at me. “Everyone does when they’re around the Deveraux brothers. Especially if they’re bonded.”
My jaw tightens. “I’m not bonded.”
“Right.” The word drips skepticism. “That’s why you smell like him. Why his scent is woven so deep into your skin I could track you across campus blindfolded.”
“That’s—”
“Denial?” She finally looks at me, eyes sharp. “Look, I don’t know what you two are to each other. But whatever it is, it’s loud. Everyone can feel it.”
I turn back to the window, arms crossing tighter. Below, students mill around the fountain, laughing, shoving, living normal lives where they don’t wake up covered in blood or get accused of murder.
And then I see him.
Legend.
Standing near the quad’s edge, leaning against the low stone wall like he owns it. Because he does. He owns everything here.
He’s talking to someone. A girl.
Tall. Slim. Hair like spun gold catching the fading sunlight. She’s wearing a pale blue dress that looks expensive and delicate and everything I’m not. She laughs at something he says, touching his arm.
My hands curl into fists.
“Who is that?” I ask.
Emmie follows my gaze. Her expression shifts. Hardens. “Arabella.”
“And?”
“And she’s just Arabella.” Emmie’s voice goes flat. Careful. “Daughter of one of the higher Argent families. Pretty. Ambitious. The kind of girl who thinks proximity to power makes her powerful.”
“She’s touching him a lot for someone who’s just ambitious.” I will not show my whole ass and expose my jealousy, but something about Emmie puts me at ease. Or maybe I’m drunk on the air.
Emmie doesn’t answer right away. When she does, her tone’s measured. “I guess she’s trying to secure her position, especially since there are no longer any Argents in any power positions.”
“Secure her position?” I blink. “By fucking Legend?”
Her eyes flutter. “I don’t think she’s fussy with the who, Haide.”
Jealousy claws up my throat. Hot. Vicious. Completely irrational. I barely know Legend. Barely trust him. And yet the sight of her hand on his arm makes me want to portal down there and remove that hand at the wrist.
Except I can’t fucking portal and, judging by the shoes inEmmie’s hands, I won’t be able to run in those, either.
“You don’t like her,” I say.
“I don’t trust her.” Emmie crosses her arms. “She’s too calculating. Too clean. Like she’s never gotten her hands dirty and doesn’t plan to start.”
I watch Legend laugh. He looks relaxed. Easy. The way he does when he’s pretending not to be dangerous.
Arabella leans closer.
My vision tunnels.
“Haide.”
Emmie’s voice pulls me back. I blink, realizing I’ve stepped toward the window like I’m about to launch through it.
“You’re growling,” she says.
