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Max winces at the particularly gnarly wound on my thigh. “Come on,” he says and turns, not waiting for me to follow.

I grab the bandage. “It’s fine. Bye!”

He blocks my path and grabs my arm with a surprising amount of gentleness, pulling me with him to the trainer’s room. It is large, the walls white like an asylum, and it smells pleasantly clean. Max pushes me into a chair and walks to the other side of the room, returning with what looks like a first aid kit.

“This is a wild magic wound,” Max says, tucking his hands under my knees and pulling me to the edge of the chair. I ignore him as he starts to wrap my wound. “Let me guess, little damsel went into the forest alone and went too deep.”

I glare at him.

“Carnivorous fog is a cunt,” Max says.

My lips twitch at his unexpected comment. “Oh?”

Max nods, looking up at me. “Yup.”

I burst out laughing, and Max snorts, looking back at the wound. He finishes quickly and stands up, gathering the first aid supplies.

“Thanks,” I say, wondering how often he has done this to be so competent.

Max nods and gives me a quick smile.

“So, tomorrow?” I ask, gingerly getting to my feet.

“Bright and early,” he replies.

I leave the gym feeling a little less defenseless than I was when I entered.

66

Summer

Walking through the campus, I have more of a spring in my step than ever. For the first time, I feel like I have made a positive step toward protecting myself and my loved ones. I’m far from being able to say that I can take on whoever or whatever is after me, but the leap I took today required the kind of guts I’ve always longed to have. I can’t help but think of the stranger at this moment. Would he be proud of me? Does it matter?

I stop at the cafe on the way back to the dorm and order breakfast for Connor and me and blood for Alice. There is still a nip in the air, the chill of early morning, but I barely feel it. Warm blood pumps through my veins, the adrenaline dancing with my cells in an addictive way that makes me want to continue to seek it out. There is something thrilling about training with Max. It’s different from the lessons in combat class.

When I return to the dorm, I drop the takeout bags on the coffee table and go to my room to see if Connor’s awake. Therising sun fills the room with a happy yellow glow, and the light brushes against his skin in the most ethereal way. He’s never looked more angelic. The light bounces off the halo on his wrist, and the gold looks like it’s absorbing the natural energy of the sun.

I take a quick photo of him and then kick off my sneakers. Silently, I tiptoe to the end of the bed. Connor is so dead to the world that he’s lucky I’m not an axe murderer. I kneel at the end of the bed, practically holding my breath as I slowly lift the sheet. I try not to jostle the mattress as I crawl up between his legs.

His cock is semi-hard in sleep, and with the softest puff of cool air, it hardens more, tenting the sheet. I slowly shift so my mouth hovers over the tip and gently slide my tongue along the slit in his crown. He moans low and slow, but I can still hear the heaviness of sleep in his voice.

I smile and slowly close my lips around the tip of his cock. Swirling my tongue over the head, I start to suck, my cheeks hollowing as I pull him deeper into my mouth. Connor moans again, the sound resonating in my core. I curl my tongue, cradling the underside of his shaft and tightening my lips, dragging both up his length. Connor’s hips undulate, and he moans again.

“Summer…” he groans, his voice still thick with sleep.

I swallow down more of his length, gagging on him, my throat protesting the intrusion. At the sound, Connor’s muscles tense, and he lurches into a sitting position.

“Summer! Fuck, Summer…” he moans. I feel him lean back again, his body relaxing into the pleasure. Connor’s hand rests against the back of my head, and I moan, working my mouth rhythmically up and down his cock. Frustrated with the sheet blocking his hand and view, he shoves it back. When his bright blue eyes meet mine, his body starts to shake with pleasure.

Connor tangles his fingers into my hair. He doesn’t hold my head down or even try to lead my movements. He simply runs his fingers through my hair, a silent, passive praise. I keep my gaze locked with his, swallowing him down over and over. It doesn’t take long before he is writhing beneath me. I can see he’s struggling to hold back. His muscles quiver, and his body shakes as he tries to hold back his release, wanting to stay in the pleasure for as long as he can hold out. His eyes are almost black, his pupils so dilated they have nearly swallowed his irises.

I force him deep, gagging around his girth again and ripping a strangled groan from him. His head involuntarily falls back, but his eyes snap back to me a split second later. The hunger pushes him to watch me as I swallow his cock, to watch me as he fills my mouth with his release. Connor’s hand fists in my hair, and his hips thrust, sending him deep into my mouth. He releases a short shout, and I feel the pulse of his cock just before his cum fills my mouth. The salty taste explodes against my tongue, and I moan, savoring him. Connor’s body goes lax against the mattress, his chest heaving. I swallow down his release, claiming every last drop as my own before crawling up his body and kissing him deeply.

“Well, good morning to you, too,” Connor moans.

I smile against his lips. “Good morning, big guy.”

“I thought that only happened in movies.”