He laughs. Silent. Visible. Then turns back to Arabella, but her hand drops from where she was touching him.
Good.
Emmie watches the exchange, shaking her head. “You two are going to burn this place down.”
“Probably.” I drain the last of the Fae Juice. “But at least it’ll be entertaining.”
She laughs. For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to have this. Real friendship. The kind that isn’t built on survival or violence. Or sex.
It feels dangerous.
It feels good.
“All right.” Emmie collects the empty bottle. “I need to go before Legend comes back and finds me drunk and alone in a room with you.”
“He’d probably laugh.” I watch as she plucks discarded trash.
“He’d definitely laugh. But Creed wouldn’t.” She heads for the door, pausing at the threshold. “Haide?”
“Yeah?”
“For what it’s worth?” She glances back. “I think you’re exactly what Legend needs. Even if some refuse to believe it.”
Before I can respond, she’s gone, door clicking shut behind her.
I’m alone.
With a dress that could start a war.
A mate I’m not ready to claim.
And for the first time since I arrived at this cursed university, Ilet myself feel it. The pull. The need. The terrifying, exhilarating truth that maybe—maybe—Legend Deveraux is mine.
And I’m absolutely fucked.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Legend
Gods, her body is fucking perfection, so soft for such a prickly little thing, my mate.
My Haide.
“He’s waking,” someone says.
Waking? From what?
I reach for my mate’s legs, tugging her closer, but my fist closes around nothing. My eyelids flutter, peeling open to find my brothers standing above me.
The sight of Creed has my teeth clamping until something in my jaw pops. I stare at my oldest brother, wondering if I look hard enough, I’ll find the seam where the lie he spoke was stitched into him.
My bond is real.
Sinner bursts through the door, wearing my fucking face. I glare at him, until it morphs back into his own. He looks from me to my brothers. “It’s done. She saw me.”
A sound in the hall draws all our attention, and Silver rushes in, eyes hard. “She’s waiting.”
“Let her in,” Creed orders.
