Page 89 of Shattered Stars

My hand fisted in his shirt, I draw back my fist to hit him again.

“No, stop it!” Rhianna yells, grabbing a hold of my elbow and attempting to pull me away. I shake her off.

“Everyone’s been calling you a slut,” I hiss at her, keeping my angry gaze fixed on the professor’s face. “And I thought it was bullshit. All pathetic rumors spread by Summer. And yet, here you are sleeping with–”

“Let go of me right now, Kennedy,” the professor growls, “or I will break your fucking neck.”

Rage scorches through my body, the bond in my stomach thrums violently. I should kill him. I should blast him into a million pieces.

His best friend’s girl – his best friend’s fucking mate. A student. The man is sick, twisted.

I should kill him. Kill him for daring to lay one finger on her.

I drop a hold of his shirt and take a step away. I don’t need to kill him. I can destroy him.

“I’m going to tell York,” I say firmly. And then I’m going to tell Azlan.

“Tristan. No,” Pig Girl pleads, attempting to hang on to my arm again. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly.” I glare at the professor who stares back at me stony-faced.

“Kennedy, I’m warning you …”

I scoff and then I unhook her fingers from my arm, spin on my heels and race away, into the darkness, into the shadows.

32

Rhi

“We have to stop him!”I cry, swinging through the door.

“Rhi!” Stone calls but I’m already chasing down the steps on Tristan Kennedy’s tail.

I can’t see him in the darkness of the night, no matter how hard I squint, no matter how many flashes of light I send spinning from my palm, but I can feel him, feel that tug towards him in the pit of my stomach. Why hadn’t I felt it earlier? He was following me. Because I was lost in my own thoughts, too concerned with the upcoming conversation with Stone to pay proper attention to my surroundings. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I let the sensation in my gut pull me up the hill, under the trees and into the brightly starlit meadow. So bright I can see every blade of glass. Every blade of grass but no Tristan Kennedy.

“I know you’re here,” I yell into the emptiness, sprinting after him. “I can feel you!”

I sense him halt and I draw to a stop, too. I can feel him only a few paces in front of me, but all I see is the meadow beyond, the grass and sleeping flowers rustled slightly by the evening’s breeze. Then slowly, slowly, he appears right in front of me, see-through and transparent at first and then more and more solid until it’s him. All of him.

I stare at him in disbelief.

“And what do you feel?” he spits, his eyes hissing with anger. “A bond? A bond you’re determined to disregard.”

“What?” I say, shaking my head. “How … how did you do …” Then an idea sails into my mind. My mouth falls open in disbelief. “It was you! In the forest. You attacked me.” I frown. “And it was you … you who saved me from the werebeast.”

He glares at me, not saying a word.

I hesitate. He saved me. He also attacked me. My heart thumps in my chest and my lungs burn. I’m out of breath from chasing after him. I’m also confused. Damn confused. So confused I want to sink to the ground and sob into my palms.

But what good would that do? I can’t let Tristan tell on Stone and me. I need to persuade him not to, which means revealing more to him than I want to. Because despite all his declarations this week, I don’t trust him. And now I think I have even less reason to do so. It was he who attacked me in the forest! He who crept into our dorm room.

And yet … and yet, it was also Tristan who saved me from the werebeast, who may have saved my life.

“You can’t tell York about me and Stone,” I say.

“Can’t I?” he says.