Page 6 of Nothing to Fear (Wicked Games #1)

“Fuck off!” I snap at the group before stomping off toward my apartment to cool off when his words finally hit home. The archives.

“ What an asshole. ”

It was presumptuous of Asher to assume I’d know where I was going to meet him, because the entrance isn’t known by everyone at Corvus.

I can probably count on one hand how many students know the location of the hidden archives, and I have no idea who they are.

I’m smart enough to know this was his way of testing me.

If I wanted his help so badly, I’d find him.

I wasn’t going to allow Asher to best me, so I asked around, got lead after lead, until I found a quiet junior named Emily, sitting alone outside, her back resting against a large white oak tree, her face buried in a book.

After some convincing and unfair flirting on my part, Emily gave me the information I needed.

Noctis Archives is a hidden chamber off the library, the entrance concealed behind an ornately carved bookshelf deep within the theology wing.

I run my fingers across the spines of books until I find the one titled Susurros —whispers—and pull it out softly.

The lever releases with a light crack, the old wood creaking with a low moan as the shelf opens, revealing a narrow spiral staircase that descends straight into darkness, just wide enough for a single body to slip through.

Chills run down my spine as I peer into the abyss, quickly looking around to make sure no one has snuck up on me, not that anyone visits this part of the library, if the layers of dust mean anything. There’s a reason the door is here to begin with.

“ Fucking Asher, ” I curse under my breath as I take my first step down into the deep, using my cellphone flashlight to guide me. I have no idea how far it descends, but after my fifth step, the door above cranks closed with a soft thud that echoes loudly in the eerie quiet of the staircase.

Round and round I go until I can finally see the bottom, the iron steps coming to an end on what looks like an ancient stone floor.

Candles flicker in sconces, casting long shadows across the rough stone walls.

I turn off my flashlight, checking the time and seeing I’m ten minutes late.

With an eye roll, I pocket my phone and straighten my spine, ready to find my nemesis.

For a split second today, I thought this was all a joke, that he wouldn’t be here, or that all of this was some ruse to freak me out or send me on a wild goose hunt.

The rumors are heard by everyone who attends Corvus, that the grounds and walls are deeply haunted, that the families who founded the school belonged to a secret society with dark magic and beliefs at the center.

Asher’s too good to do something like that, though. No, this was just all a test from the beginning, to see if I had it in me to go through the hassle and headache of finding my way into the archives to meet him.

Joke’s on him, because late or not, I’m here.

A large stone archway leads to a massive open room, bookshelves lining every wall, the old wood planks weathered and bowed in places, strong and solid in others. Tomes older than I can begin to imagine sit untouched, covered in dust from age.

The archives hold the more obscure knowledge—extremely old and rare editions of books on various topics like occult history, alchemy, magic and rituals, divination, and herbalism.

It contains manuscripts, journals, and maps, some bound in human skin, while others are chained across the binding with large, rusted locks holding them closed.

While basic information on these topics can be found in the library upstairs, the Noctis Archive is the keeper of all the deep, dark secrets.

Each of my steps echoes as I walk further through the chamber, going deeper into the underbelly of the library, until finally, sitting in the very back at a small desk, is Asher Ambrose.

Although there’s no doubt he heard me walking in, he doesn’t stir, completely lost to the book he has opened in front of him.

The edition looks extremely old, as with everything else down here.

His fingers delicately flip a page as his dark, obsidian eyes flicker in the light of the lamp next to him.

Dark hair, the color of midnight, falls into his face as he hovers over the pages.

He’s beautiful.

Instead of saying anything, I walk closer, taking a seat directly across from him. Asher’s eyes quickly flick up to meet my face, alarm and surprise etched into his features. He didn’t think I’d come. I guess we’re both full of surprises.

“What are you reading?” I ask, breaking the silence.

Asher closes the book carefully, setting his arms on top of it so I can’t read the cover, his head cocking to the side as he studies me. The movement has me remembering my masked stranger, the sinister way in which he played out my ultimate fantasy.

I raise an eyebrow in curiosity. “You know what they say about secrets . . .”

“That you can’t keep them?” he quips back, making my lips twitch with a slight smile. If he only knew the secrets I’ve held on to. I decide to let it go. For now.

“I went on your wild hunt. I’m here. Are you going to help me?”

“You’re clearly more resourceful than I thought you’d be. How bad is it? Just give it to me straight.”

I huff out my frustration. Being vulnerable makes me want to crawl out of my fucking skin.

My knee-jerk reaction is to tell him to fuck off, that it’s none of his business, do anything to protect myself from his possible reaction.

But he’s right, I need his help if I’m going to stay on the team, or more importantly, graduate on time.

“It’s bad. Can we leave it at that?” My voice is soft, but the typical edge in my tone is still there, as if I’ve forgotten how to not be a dick.

“I can’t help you if you aren’t open with me, Silas. I barely have time in the day to give you. So, if this is going to happen, I need to know where to start.”

My eyes flutter closed as I take a deep breath, willing myself to calm down.

“I’m failing.”

“Okay,” he says calmly and without a hint of judgment. “Which course?”

“All of them.”

To Asher’s credit, he doesn’t react. Just nods his head as if he can read my discomfort and chooses to let it slide. An out I don’t deserve.

“What’s your major?”

“Forensics, with a focus on anatomy.”

Asher nods his head. “We’ll start with Gothic literature.”

My body relaxes in my chair, comforted by Asher’s willingness to help me. I don’t deserve his cooperation or acceptance of me, of all people. But that’s just Asher Ambrose. Easy-going, agreeable, good-natured, and empathetic. All the traits I wish I had—or at least didn’t keep hidden.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Asher looks at me and cocks his head slightly to the side before giving me a silent nod.

He pulls out a book from his backpack and flips to a page in the middle, as if he has the contents memorized from cover to cover.

When his head dips down, focusing on the page between us, I can’t help but lean in with him, breathing in his scent—all leather, paper, and ink.

My resulting sigh is both silent and the loudest thing I’ve heard all day.

If only things could have been different.