Page 71

For one disorienting second, everything else drops away. The alley, the shadows, the trap—all of it is swallowed by this. By the wind in my face, the city streaking past below, and the dizzying realization that I've never been on a hoverbike before. I've definitely never been on one like this, and I'm not in control of any of it.

Ciaran's body is rigid under my hands, shoulders tight, every movement controlled and aggressive as he forces the machine through the city by sheer will.

He's furious. I can feel it in the way he drives.

The alley keeps surfacing behind my eyes, not the details, just the sound of footsteps and the certainty that if Ciaran had been a second slower, those men would've gotten their hands on me.

I swallow, trying not to think about it, and let my gaze drift to the line of his jaw, to the tension in his shoulders. He doesn't look back, doesn't say a word, doesn't slow. And I don't know which part of this is worse, the men in the alley or the one I'm holding onto now.

The bike doesn't slow until the gates of Caervast rise in front of us, tall and black against the night, ironwork gleaming under the security lights as the guards at either side straighten the second they recognize him. He doesn't even acknowledge them, just cuts straight through like nothing in this place is allowed to stop him.

The engine drops into a low growl as he pushes past. When the bike finally jerks to a stop, it sends me forward into his back, my hands still tangled in his coat, my pulse too fast to settle.

His hair is still damp. The same water that ran down his neck not that long ago.

The pool flashes through my head, followed by memories of his mouth, his hands…

Heat hits me again, fast and unwelcome.

Ciaran swings off the bike in one smooth movement and turns back toward me, eyes dark and burning. "What the hell were you doing out there?" he snaps.

My hackles rise instantly. I slide off the other side, trying to put space between us before I do something stupid again.

I don't get far. His hand closes around my arm, dragging me back before I can step away.

"I said"—he grabs a fistful of my shirt and hauls me closer—"what the hell were you doing out there?"

My pulse spikes, anger snapping up fast enough to cover everything else. I wrench against his grip. "Looking for something that's none of your business."

Ciaran doesn't let go. His fingers tighten just enough to make the point, his gaze dropping over my face like he's taking inventory of something I didn't agree to give him.

"You nearly got yourself taken," he growls. He says it like the danger wasn't a shock to him, like the only surprise was that I walked into it anyway.

I'm not sure whether I should feel relieved he came for me or terrified by how quickly he knew where to look.

I yank my arm free anyway with a snarl. "I didn't need you."

We both hear the lie.

His lips twitch, not quite becoming a smile. "Yeah. You did."

I hate that he's right. And I hate even more that part of me is still thinking about the pool.

I don't give him time to say anything else. I turn and head for the dorm before he can stop me again, my pulse still running too fast, my skin still too tight.

I make it halfway down the corridor before he catches me.

"Let go⁠—"

My back slams into the wall. The impact knocks the breath out of me as he crowds in close, one hand braced beside my head, his presence filling the space until there's nowhere left for me to go.

"What were you doing out there, little mouse?"

"That's none of your business."

He smirks. "I already told you. Everything about you is my business. Now talk to me."

But I won't. I can't. So I keep my lips pressed tight and my gaze fixed somewhere past his shoulder, refusing to give him anything.