Page 116 of Plug and Drain

There was two feet of space between them, but it may as well have been a rift. She wanted to step closer and, maybe, slip her hand into his? Would he even welcome her hand? Would he let her warm them up if they were cold?

I miss him, she realised as she felt a sharp pang in her chest. She’d spent the last week thinking about him. Worrying. Being afraid. Letting nerves eat away at her. Wondering what he was doing late at night as she lay in bed. Wondering if he thought of her. Questioning whether she’d done the right thing by turning him down.

She’d been thinking of him constantly. All her thoughts, including the fearful ones, had revolved around him. At night, when she was trying to fall asleep, her thoughts had ignited.

Susie had tried but failed to keep the memories of the hot moments between them at bay. She recalled the soft scratchiness of his beard and his warm pants as he moved above her, while her hand drifted low past her stomach and slipped beneath her panties.

A blush warmed her cheeks. She was grateful that Arken couldn’t read her mind, but painfully aware that he could sense her emotions. He was peering at her calmly, but she sensed the turmoil beneath his façade, and she wanted to touch his face and smooth the pretence away.

She wanted to step forward, but she suspected the rift dividing them would swallow her whole. It did not seem like a safe distance to traverse. Not now.

Susie reached for him anyway, but he flinched. She dropped her hand.

“I just wanted to say,” she began, “that I think you should show them mercy.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, hoping Arken could read her lips. “I don’t think he should die.”

Arken’s eyebrows raised, but his eyes were no less dark as they stared at her. They had a haunting quality to them, and they looked…sad.

Her heart seized as she tried to think of what else to say.

There was a commotion behind them, and several security guards appeared, walking the omegas, who were restrained with bound hands. They were marched past the pike, making the air distort around it, and were led halfway down the flight of steps. The guards made them kneel side by side on the same step, facing up at Arken and Susie with their backs to the assembly below.

Oscar’s eyes met Susie’s, and there was stark hatred bubbling in their depths. She took in the slash marks on his cheeks. The skin was red and sloughy and so swollen that she suspected it was infected. Before she had a chance to summon sympathy for the wolf, he smirked, and his eyes bore into her and made her feel dirty.

Suddenly, Susie felt Arken step closer to her, and Oscar’s expression transformed into one of fear as his flinty eyes darted between her and Arken.

“Are you all right?” Arken murmured, so close that she jumped.

“Yes,” she replied, meeting his gaze. His eyes were still so dark, the brown like a darkened forest, obscured by a canopy that would not allow light in.

If she could reach to touch him…to brush aside the sliver of silver hair that had fallen across his forehead, or stroke his cheek the way he’d stroked…

She didn’t know what would happen then, but it felt important.

“Do you not think that Oscar deserves to die?” Arken asked seriously.

“I think he’s a product of a system,” she said, feeling Arken’s warmth as she turned into him. He was so close…and yet so distant. She searched for some sign that Arken was glad to see her, but she couldn’t be sure. “We don’t know what Oscar would have been like if the academy had better rules. He doesn’t deserve to die.”

Arken gave her a strange look, and a strained silence hung between them as she waited for him to say something.

One of the teachers coughed politely, mumbling something about how all the students were assembled, but Arken did not break his locked gaze with hers.

She had his attention, but she wasn’t sure it was good. Arken’s features were an icy, impenetrable wall, and she was suddenly keenly aware that she was addressing the Headmaster of Volmasque Academy, and not the man who’d come to her bedroom a week ago. The contrast was staggering, and it made her long to see the softer side he’d shown her a week ago. Try as she might, she couldn’t detect a single trace of empathy or emotion.

She dropped her gaze, taking in the details of his clothes. It was so much more than a mere suit. It was a striking masterpiece exuding sophistication.

It was all in the little details.

The meticulously crafted lapel, with delicate embroidery that traced the edges. A handkerchief that peeked out of his chest pocket, a flourish of muted lavender silk that harmonised seamlessly with the tweed. There was a silk neck-scarf, which lent a timeless elegance to the outfit. Perfectly tailored trousers. Even his silk socks were elegant—a shade darker than his suit.

Susie’s gaze settled on the lilac detailing on the socks, and her heart jarred to a halt as she recognised the King’s monogram.

He is Henrikk’s man.

The reminder struck her hard, and she felt both heartbroken and mortified all at once.

Arken was her enemy, yet she’d invited him into her den, and he’d taken all that he wanted from her.

He’d wanted more than she was willing to give, and against all expectations, he’d responded to her rejection by leaving her alone.