Page 52 of Immortal Consequences (The Souls of Blackwood Academy #1)
Olivier
“I can’t believe we got away with that.”
Olivier felt high. His hands tingled. His head swam.
It was the familiar rush of adrenaline that often accompanied doing something he knew was against the rules.
Something that could get him in trouble.
He never understood why he loved the feeling so much, but it was just an inherent characteristic he was born with.
An insatiable need for risk. And yet this time, he couldn’t help but wonder if the intoxicating feelings coursing through his body had less to do with sneaking into the Library and more to do with the fact that Emilio still hadn’t let go of his hand.
Maybe it was both.
“Did you hear what they were talking about?” Emilio pulled him back through the entrance of Litterman House.
The fireplace crackled with a dying fire, illuminating the dark common room in a pale amber glow.
Even in the dim light of the fire, Olivier could make out the familiar terra-cotta-colored rugs adorning the floor.
The bushels of wildflowers and melted wax candles scattered across the light-colored wooden dining table at the far end of thehall.
“Sort of,” Olivier mumbled. He wished they could have stayed to find out more. To listen in on the rest of the conversation. But it had all happened too quickly. “Who do you think they were talking about?”
“No idea. But whatever they were doing, they clearly were trying to be secretive about it,” Emilio whispered.
His eyes traveled down to their interlocked hands, and something shifted in his expression.
The slightest twitch in his lip. And then he dropped Olivier’s hand like a hot coal and turned his focus back toward the common room.
Olivier did his best to mask his disappointment. “Well, we were sneaking around too. I guess we can’t really judge.”
“No. I guess not.”
Emilio shifted from one foot to the other. He cleared his throat.
God. Why did things feel so awkward all of a sudden? Olivier had the urge to dunk himself in a tub of ice.
“Well.” He clapped his hands together, hoping to defuse some of the tension. “We got the book!”
Emilio’s face instantly lit up again. “We did! I’m gonna take a few minutes to skim through it…see if I can find anything useful. I’ll be quick.”
“Good idea.”
“I’ll meet you out here—” Emilio was already walking down the corridor. “I’ll just be a second!”
He turned the corner and disappeared into his room.
Olivier stood there for a moment. It felt like his entire body was buzzing, practically vibrating from the sheer adrenaline.
He began to restlessly pace about the common room, absentmindedly whistling beneath his breath.
Desperate to busy his hands, he reached for the hem of his coat to fiddle with, only to realize that he had left his suit jacket in his room after his earlier brush with Emilio.
“Dammit,” he muttered. He supposed he had a few minutes before Emilio managed to peel himself away from the book, so he quickly darted toward his room to grab it.
As he walked up the stairs to the second floor, it felt as though he were floating. He could still see Emilio’s face as he fought back the urge to smile. The genuine excitement flickering behind his warm brown eyes as they ran across the Main Yard, hands clasped together.
He pushed open the door to his room, lips curved into a dumb smile, and froze.
Somebody was waiting for him on the other side.
“August.”
He was sitting on the edge of Olivier’s bed, bathed in the silver glow pooling in through the open window.
His hands were clasped over his knees, as though an invisible weight pressed upon him.
He wore a black tailored suit, a cloak strewn over his shoulders.
His dark curls were pushed slightly away from his face, which only further emphasized just how painfully beautiful he really was.
Like a fallen angel.
“Hello, Olivier.”
Rationally, Olivier knew he should be worried.
A surprise visit from August after dark wasn’t exactly something to look forward to.
But he didn’t seem dangerous. He seemed…
tired. Normally, August was a force to be reckoned with.
A boy who swaggered down the halls with the confidence of somebody who knew nobody would be foolish enough to defy him.
Now he simply looked like a boy who was in desperate need of a nap.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
August looked up at him, his movements slow and deliberate. “The two of us need to have a chat.”
“You could have just knocked, you know?” Olivier closed the door behind him and stepped farther into the room.
He was aware of every tiny movement. Of every hitch in August’s breath.
“I have to admit, the whole ominously lurking in the corner of my room thing is a bit dramatic, even for your standards.”
August didn’t take the bait. He barely even cracked a smile.
“Apologies. It’s the first time I’ve been able to get you alone the past week,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “You’re never without Emilio, it seems.”
Olivier tensed. “Well, I’m all yours now. Go on.”
August leaned forward, his gray eyes darkening.
“Loughty can’t know about what happened in Bonestrod.”
Olivier’s chest tightened— of course. He had been expecting August to speak to him about it eventually. “I assume you’re referring to the fact that a piece of your own soul now lives inside her.”
August’s mouth curved into a rueful smile. “Correct.”
“Right, well…it’s none of my business.”
It wasn’t entirely true. He’d witnessed it.
He’d helped. And, quite frankly, not a single part of him relished the thought of lying to her about what happened.
But something told him August wouldn’t have liked that response, and the last thing he wanted to do was risk upsetting August when nobody was around to hear him scream.
“I need you to promise me that you won’t say anything,” August added with an exasperated sigh. “Look me in the eyes and promise me.”
“Come on, August. You’re being awfully—”
“Olivier.” August stood up and closed the space between them in a single stride. He wasn’t much taller than Olivier, but he was far more intimidating than the other boy could ever dream of being. “Enough silly quips. Enough games. Just… promise me. ”
Olivier’s body tensed underneath August’s unwavering gaze.
It was like looking into the eye of a storm.
The eerie calm before total and utter destruction.
He’d often seen the anger simmering just below the surface, the danger lurking behind August’s stoic gaze.
But experiencing it this close, with such unwavering clarity, was something else entirely.
“You can’t keep it from her forever,” Olivier whispered, voice wavering. “You know it isn’t right.”
“I know.” The muscles on August’s jaw leapt as he inhaled a sharp breath. “But she can’t know. Not now, at least. Not until after the Decennial.”
“Why?” Olivier pressed, surprising even himself with his bravery.
“We all have our secrets. You keep secrets from Emilio to protect him, don’t you? To keep him from getting hurt?” Olivier’s cheeks burned as the weight of August’s words settled upon him in a sudden gust. “So…let me do the same.”
“That’s—that’s different,” Olivier choked out, fumbling over his words. “I keep the truth about my memories from him because it’s my secret. My burden. But what you did involves Wren. It directly affects her.”
August shook his head, a pained expression on his face. “Olivier. Do not force me to become the villain.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No,” August replied, stepping closer. “It’s a plea.”
Looking back on it, Olivier wasn’t entirely sure what prompted his next response.
Maybe it was the desperate look in August’s eyes or the tremor in his hands.
Or maybe it was simply the fact that Olivier was, whether he wanted to admit it or not, unnerved by him.
But whatever it was, he found himself nodding and placing a tentative hand on August’s shoulder.
“Okay,” he whispered. “I promise.”
August let out a shaky breath the moment the words left his lips. The tension in his face dissipated. His shoulders relaxed. And then he walked toward the door, hands fussing with his silver ring.
“Thank you, Olivier. I won’t forget this.”
“Let’s hope not.”
August paused by the doors. “And sorry about barging in…I’ll knock next time.”
Olivier couldn’t help but laugh.
“Somehow I doubt that.”