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Chapter

Twenty-Four

Bloom

His Lover

M y nails carved crescent moons into my palms as I paced in my chamber. The images of Nero standing alone against those hunters burned behind my eyelids—three monstrous figures on winged steeds, their very presence warping the air.

Sindy had said Forsaken Academy perched atop the thin veil between the mortal realm and Hellgate, but those hunters weren’t demons; they were something worse.

I shouldn’t worry about Nero Ravencrux to the point of sickness—he remained on my list of murder suspects, the one killing redheads, and I could be next. Yet fear for him twisted my insides into a thousand knots.

I couldn’t sit on my hands and let him face danger alone. Just as I formed a plan to sneak out to the gate to aid him with my wind magic—at least I could use the wind to blow away a hunter or two—a familiar power shuddered through Ravencrux Tower.

My heart stopped, and relief washed over me.

Nero was in the tower. Alive. Home.

His presence pulled at me, driving me out of my chamber with an irresistible need to get closer. A cord tugged me forward. Then I was climbing the stairs until I reached the top floor. My bare feet urgent and quiet, I padded along the corridor toward Nero’s study.

The wards parted for me like smoke.

What would he say upon seeing me? This was the first time I’d actively sought him out. Would he be pleased or annoyed? Well, I could simply ask him what happened at the gates…or if he was okay.

His study door stood ajar. I froze.

A woman’s low, sultry laugh spilled out. My stomach turned to lead. Yesterday he’d had me pinned against the stone table, his face between my thighs. And today?—

Today he was entertaining another woman, and he’d never made me laugh like that.

Whoever he kept company with now, he favored her more.

Anger coiling within my chest, I held my breath and crept toward the entrance. In seconds, I was there, peeking in.

Nero sat behind his obsidian desk, bare-chested. Morrigan stood behind him, her hands gliding down his back.

The candlelight gilded them both, a perfect picture of comfort and familiarity.

Redheads weren’t his only type then.

Bile rose in my throat. My lips tasted of ash.

I could imagine what they’d do next. She’d slip onto his lap and they would fuck each other’s brains out.

Searing fury and icy humiliation warred in my veins.

Every muscle tensed with the primal urge to storm in, to claw at them both and maim them.

Then what? I was the powerless one. Ravencrux could destroy me with a thought.

Orren’s warning echoed in my skull: “Morrigan bends metal like blades of grass.”

A shuddering breath stuck in my frozen lungs.

Not like this. I wouldn’t become their laughingstock—found weeping outside his door like some discarded plaything.

My trembling hand found the inhaler in my pocket and clutched it.

Tears burned behind my eyelids. Heartache turned to rage that burned hot enough to scorch my lungs, yet my rage was useless.

My chest heaved up and down as I called for cold reason and strength.

Ravencrux might have fucked me, but I’d gone willingly.

There were no promises between us, only stolen moments that would ruinme if discovered.

He would walk away unscathed. I’d be the desperate girl who spread her legs for a professor, a murder suspect.

Morrigan’s lips leaned against his ear, her breathy whisper carrying a lover’s secret. Acid rose in my throat. I wanted to hurl every vile name at her, slut, or even whore, but the truth scalded worse: I’d been first in line.

I fixed my gaze on them again. The scene before me wasn’t some nightmare to wake from.

This was reality, carved in the candlelight.

Morrigan was gorgeous, healthy, and strong, the way her warrior’s body curved against his painted a matched set.

I, on the other hand, looked like a porcelain doll next to a storm as I stood beside him. One flick of his wrist and I’d shatter.

And Morrigan knew it. That barely veiled smirk she’d worn since my arrival hadn’t been disdain—it was pity.

The realization hurt like a thorn sinking into my skin: they weren’t new lovers. There were years of intimacy written in the familiarity of her touch.

My only petty vengeance lay in knowing that even though she’d come before me, even though she was perfect, he still sought me out. Not that I’d fucking let him touch me again.

A strangled wheeze tore from my throat just as Morrigan tilted her face toward Nero’s, as if she wanted to kiss him.

He turned. Those emerald eyes locked onto the door’s shadowed crack, darkening with fierce need. For her? For me? The uncertainty carved me hollow.

I stumbled back. One more second and I’d either set the room ablaze or vomit on his priceless carpets. I fled.