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67

Summer

“ W ell, well, back again, former damsel?” Max smirks as I walk into the gym the next morning.

I decide I shouldn’t impale him until after the lesson and completely ignore him, walking through to the sparring room. I’m walking a little stiffly, my muscles tight and achy after our session and combat class yesterday. No doubt I overdid it, considering my injuries, but thankfully, I have been healing well.

Max leans against the wall and quirks an eyebrow. “How sore are you from one to ten?”

I stretch, but my muscles rebel as I try to loosen them. “A five,” I say, trying to hold back my winces.

Max snorts. “So more like a seven. You didn’t ice.”

I glare at him. “I was busy.”

“Well, you’re going to be paying for it today,” Max says, smirking and stretching out. “Okay, we’ll do some combinations. Right jab, left hook, duck, right kick.” He rolls his shoulders. “I’ll even do them with you because I’m sweet like that.”

I get into position. Max adjusts my stance, and I try not to bristle in frustration.

“Twenty rounds, then one minute break, then twenty, one minute break, and so on, until I tell you to stop.”

My muscles quake in protest after the first five rounds, but I try to push through the pain, leaning into the fear I’ve not only lived with for the past month but most of my life. I make it to the third set before my limbs start to shake with fatigue. Max watches me as he effortlessly goes through the motions, not even slightly out of breath. Dick.

“Faster,” he says, increasing his speed, though I suspect he’s been doing so every round. My body can feel the toil from it. After another five rounds, I feel like I’m going to pass out. Max is moving much faster now, and my competitive side is coming out to play. It’s so potent that I barely notice as I brush against my internal power. It flickers in excitement as I reach for it, needing to be faster, better, stronger. The power answers my call, and the second I recognize the faint caress along my spine, I oust it completely, stopping mid-round. My heart thunders in my chest. I bend over, bracing my hands on my knees and gulping down air.

“That’s enough for today.”

“I didn’t say stop,” Max says, crossing his arms over his chest, not even a little winded. Again, dick. “Quitting is a damsel move,” he continues, knowing it’ll rile me.

“You’re going too fast,” I snarl.

Max shrugs. “If you can’t keep up because you’re weak, fine. I’ll slow down.”

I look at him, seriously having to take a moment to decide whether to set him on fire. Unwilling to deal with the headmaster at this hour, I opt to just leave the gym.

“So, we’re rocking the wound today?” Alice asks as we leave the dorm later that morning. I nod, feeling the cut throb.

“Decided to let some fresh air at it.”

Connor is standing outside Kelpie when we exit, holding a cardboard cupholder with three coffees.

“Oh, hi, big guy!”

Connor smiles, but I can feel a little tension radiating from him. “Thought I’d deliver your coffee today.” I convinced him to go home last night because his brothers were having a game night that they had been planning for weeks. He was reluctant to leave me, but he needed some time alone with his brothers, and I needed some time with Alice. But the anxiety radiating off him today is making me regret that decision.

I take a cup and push to my tiptoes, brushing my lips over his. “Thank you.”

“Good morning, babe.”

Alice barges past me. “It’s too early to watch you guys be all mushy and gross.” She takes one of the two remaining cups. “Especially before coffee.”

She walks ahead, and I kiss Connor again before we follow her. I slide my hand into Connor’s as we cross the campus. Connor squeezes my hand and kisses my head more than once.

I look up at him and step closer, my hip brushing his as we walk. “You okay, big guy?”

Connor glances at me, a little puzzled. “Me? Yeah, perfect.”

I nod, sipping my coffee, but I can feel the tension vibrating in him. I glance at him again and notice he is looking around suspiciously, almost accusingly.

I stop walking. Connor’s hand tightens on mine, and he whips around, his eyes searching for the threat.

“Con.” I wait until his gaze meets mine. “You gotta stop. I’m fine.”

He blinks down at me, his shoulders tight. “What do you mean?” I quirk an eyebrow, and he blinks again, the picture of innocence. “I’m just… observing.”

“Con.”

“What?”

“Nothing is going to happen to me. Relax.”

Connor shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m totally relaxed,” he says, and I don’t have to be an angel to know he is lying.

I give him a skeptical look.

“This is how I normally walk you to class.”

I quirk a brow.

“What?” he asks, a little sharper than usual.

I sigh heavily and kiss him. “Go to class. I’ll see you after.”

Connor glances at Alice, and then he kisses me again. “Okay. I love you.”

“I’ll see you later,” I reply. If Connor was expecting me to say it back, he doesn’t give it away. I suspect he’s still high on the feeling of me saying it yesterday morning. As he walks off, he glances at us more than once over his shoulder, and I wave at him each time.

“He doesn’t know what we suspect, does he?” Alice whispers, pulling me toward class. “That you’re the target.”

I shake my head.

“Oh, so he’s just being a weirdo. Must be his natural state.”

“He’s worried, and I know he struggled with not being with me last night. Me disappearing like that and coming back injured really got to him.”

“No, Sum. There is worried, and then there is being psychotic, and he is on the last train to crazy town.”

I sigh heavily, sitting down in our Realms class.

“Are you going to tell him?”

I shake my head again. “If he’s this worried not knowing, I’m pretty sure telling him I might be the target will send him over the edge.”

Alice shrugs, and we drop the subject as Professor Ambrose enters the room.