Page 6

Of course, I knew what he meant, but it was clear he wasn’t picking up on my irritation.

“Well,” he said with a smirk, “we’ve got Healers who are pretty straightforward—unless you’re already dead, of course—Messengers who are telepathic.

Guardians who can see all. And finally, Warriors—the ones considered greater than the rest.” He tilted his head, giving me a smug smile. “So, which category do you fit into?”

He was obviously trying to rub it in that I didn’t have enhanced combat skills or some type of Celestial wisdom that made me a Messenger.

That I couldn’t communicate telepathically or heal someone with a touch.

It was like being back in secondary school, except worse—because this time, the guy in front of me clearly had a god complex.

Marnie opened her mouth, probably to defend me, but I knew if I let that happen, I’d be seen as someone who couldn’t stand up for herself. Just like before.

“Are you a Warrior?” I asked.

He grinned, clearly pleased that I assumed so. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“No.” I hummed thoughtfully. “But you perfectly answered mine.” Cocky prick.

The grin slid off his face almost instantaneously, replaced by a look of confused annoyance.

Marnie let out a half-laugh, half-snort, trying—and failing—to cover it with her hand. I smiled as I reached for a skittle, and she handed me the entire bag, still chuckling.

Matias looked even more baffled, as if the whole exchange had short-circuited his brain. “Wait, hold on, I—”

“Matias.”

Oh, for God’s sake.

Both Marnie and Matias turned to see Hunter standing behind them with his hood down, hair tousled and catching the light from the flickering flames around us. The firelight made the golden strands even more striking than usual against the darker brown.

“Leave.” Hunter’s voice was calm, but it had an edge that left no room for argument. Matias stiffened, and after a tense moment, he stalked off, muttering something under his breath.

A nervous smile played on Marnie’s lips before Hunter turned his attention to her and blankly stared at her.

She cleared her throat, glancing back and forth between us before walking away, saying, “I’m just—yeah—” She spun around right as I was about to tell her not to leave, but it was too late. She was already lost amongst the crowd of Ascendants.

My hands immediately became clammy, and I tried to look anywhere but at Hunter. It was impossible because my gaze kept wandering towards him and his intense stare.

I swallowed slowly and carefully. “A shame to see that you can still walk.”

His eyes fell to my throat before he tipped his head to the side, not giving me enough emotion to know what was passing through his mind. “And much to my disappointment, you’re still here.”

Oh. I should have known it would have to do with me not running away from this place.

Clearing my throat, I said, “Surprised?”

He shrugged, now looking bored. “I give it a week.”

Irritation flared up inside me, and I threw another two skittles into my mouth for good measure. “Well, a week is going to feel like a long time because I plan on staying.” I chewed slowly as my brows rose. “In your dorm as well, or should I say ours?”

That ruined the disinterested look on his face as his expression hardened, and he took a step closer. “You—”

“Can’t stay there?” I finished off for him with a perky smile to mask how on edge I felt around him.

If he looked close enough, he’d see how badly my legs were shaking.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to, especially after the rude welcoming, but once I spoke with Nadael, I realized I shouldn’t be quick to judge, although I can’t help it since you seem like a real dick and if anything—” I chuckled softly.

“—I’ve realized how badly you deserved that kick I gave you because I have no regrets—” I paused when I saw his lips twitch. “What?”

“Is this a usual habit of yours, rambling nonsense?”

My mouth dropped wide open.

How dare he be right.

How dare he look this amused right now.

Rambling was a usual habit of mine, and it tended to happen when I was flustered or overly excited. The latter clearly wasn’t why this time.

Not wanting to dignify him with a response, I brushed off some imaginary lint from my denim jacket and shoved the bag of skittles against his chest. I tried to push past him, but he grabbed my arm, spinning me around to face him.

My breath caught as his gaze swept over my face, intense and unyielding.

“I meant it,” he said quietly, voice low and serious. “This place isn’t for you.”

For some reason, I didn’t pull away. Instead, I met his stare with equal intensity, letting my anger simmer just beneath the surface. “Do you want to be kicked again?” Maybe once just wasn’t enough.

His eyes flashed with a dangerous challenge. “You’ll regret it.”

“The kick or staying?”

“Both.”

With that, he released me as if my touch had burnt him, leaving a strange tension hanging in the air between us. He stepped back, and something in the way he was staring at me told me I would regret it before he walked away.

Since the moment he had laid eyes on me, he hated me; the question was, why did my being here bother him so much?