Page 13 of Taste of Thorns (The Firestone Academy #3)

Chapter Eleven

B riony

I wake up the next morning to a loud fist hammering on my door.

I roll over, pull the one pillow over my head and groan. I didn’t climb back into my own bed until the early hours of the morning and after everything that’s happened over the last few days, I’m utterly exhausted.

“Briony, are you in there?” Fly calls out, hammering all over again.

I groan in way of answer and the door flies open. He takes a look at me from the doorway, then comes marching over and yanks back my cover. Immediately, I’m assaulted by freezing cold air.

“Urgh,” I moan, “you are so mean.”

“Cruel to be kind, Cupcake. Didn’t you hear the morning bell?”

I lift my pillow and peek at him. “No.”

“Hmmm,” he says and wags his finger at me. “This is what happens when you get too much of a good thing. You get sloppy. Now you have approximately five minutes to get ready if you want to grab some breakfast before class starts. And you know who is up first?”

“Professor Cornelius?” I ask hopefully.

“Nope, the Madame.”

I let the pillow flop back down onto my face and groan even more loudly. I wasn’t expecting to face her again so soon.

Fly tuts. “I’d feel sorry for you, but knowing you’ve probably spent the entirety of your evening being ravished by several hot men, my sympathy is limited.”

This time, I throw my pillow directly at his head.

“I did not spend my entire night … you know.”

“Do I? Care to fill me in?” he says, taking a seat on the side of my bed.

“I was actually showing Fox my dragon.”

Fly tips back his head and cackles. “Cupcake, I’ve heard girls call their bits all kinds of creative things before, but not once has one called their vagina a dragon.

Does yours breathe fire? Is that all part of the lumomancy thing?

” He looks at me, clearly trying not to laugh again.

“Oh stars, Briony, do you have a magical vagina?”

This time I thump him real hard on the arm. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “but my version of events was a lot more interesting.” I avert my gaze and chew on my lip. Fly narrows his eyes. “Out with it!”

“I did spend quite a lot of my day – and evening – being ravished,” I confess.

Fly folds his arms over his chest. “I’m very happy for you, honestly I am.”

I stick my tongue out at him and shuffle up so I’m sitting.

“Fly,” I say, swallowing, “do you think I’m a sex addict?”

Fly stares at me for three whole seconds then bursts out laughing again, this time the amusement rolling through his body is so violent, he falls backward, kicking his legs.

“Fly!” I say. “I’m serious about this and you’re the only one I can talk to about it. Because … well.”

Fly snorts, wipes his eyes and rolls back up.

He schools his features, although it takes several attempts, little bubbles of laughter keep breaking free. “I’m sorry, Cupcake. That wasn’t very sensitive. Go ahead. Tell me why you think you’re a sex addict.”

“Because,” I say, fidgeting on the bed, “I had sex with two different men yesterday and I was the one definitely initiating things the second time round. You’d think I’d be all sated and content after the first round of things. So why did I …” I trail off.

“Maybe the first round wasn’t very satisfying. That can happen.”

“Oh trust me, it was. Very satisfying. It should have been enough to satisfy one normal woman for like a month!”

“You’re not normal, Cupcake.”

“Thanks,” I say flatly.

“You have four fated mates. Fate’s probably rewarded you with a higher than average libido in order to keep all those fine strapping men with their virulent loins satisfied.”

“Oh stars!” I say covering my face with my hands.

Fly pulls them away. “Seriously, Cupcake, what are you complaining about? Most people would give anything to trade places with you now. I mean sleeping with ...”

“Dray Eros.”

“And …”

“Professor Tudor,” I mumble.

Fly’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “On the same day! That’s like platinum-levels of achievement when it comes to sexual conquesting.”

“So you don’t think I’m a sex addict?”

“Are you flinging yourself at every male member of the species? Are you sleeping with everyone and everybody? Or do you just find the men you’re entangled with pretty damn hot and completely irresistible – which given who they are, is totally understandable.”

I nod. Fly may be saying all this to make me feel better. If so, it has worked. I’m not a complete nymphomaniac. I did drag Fox out of bed to meet Blaze yesterday. That shows some levels of control.

“Okay,” I say, “do you think we’ve missed breakfast?”

“We’d better not have,” he says, “or I may be tempted to tell Clare all about this ridiculous conversation.”

By now, I am well and truly used to people staring at me and whispering behind their hands about me.

I am no longer invisible. However, despite all the times I’ve endured people at this academy gossiping about me, I am still not prepared for the reaction I receive when Fly and I rush through the canteen doors eight minutes later, both desperately praying they’re still serving food.

As we do, the canteen falls deathly silent and every head, without exception, turns and stares my way.

Fly and I glance at each other and hurry to the table to grab some remaining pieces of toast. Everybody watches us and I’m so self-conscious, I fumble picking up the toast and nearly drop it on the floor.

A bead of sweat pools on the back of my neck and my heart thumps loudly in my chest.

As we walk across the canteen in search of somewhere to sit, the eyes keep right on following us and Fly finally snaps.

“Okay, folks,” he calls out, “what the hell is wrong with you? You never seen a short skinny girl and an exceptionally attractive young man before?”

A couple of people snigger, several seem to snap out of their trance and return to their breakfasts. Most people keep right on staring.

“Seriously!” Fly mutters, clicking his fingers in some boy’s face. “What is wrong with you all?”

“Did you really score maximum points in the trial?” some girl from our tower asks, staring at me with wonder in her eyes.

I feel my cheeks instantly catch ablaze and my tongue turns to lead in my mouth.

When it’s clear I’m struggling to form a coherent answer, Fly speaks up again.

“Yes, she did. Because she is amazing and wonderful and you lot have been too dumb to see it.”

“They probably gave her full points,” one of Odessa’s friends sneers, “because of who she’s sleeping with.”

I’m certain my cheeks actually catch fire and melt the skin off my face. Is she right? I feel like such a freaking fraud.

“If that were the case,” Fly says, tossing his head, “why didn’t she get full marks last time? Why haven’t all the thralls beaten the rest of us ordinaries?”

“Because she’s the thrall of the most powerful shadow weavers,” some other boy says.

“I’m not their thrall,” I mutter.

“But you are sleeping with them,” Odessa’s friend smirks.

“Is it because you’re sleeping with them?” the first girl says, obviously disappointed. My performance in that trial has clearly given some of the students from Slate and the other Quarters hope they too could achieve great things.

“I don’t know,” I say truthfully.

“No, it isn’t,” Clare says, standing up from where she’s sitting next to her new boyfriend and pushing her glasses up her nose. “Briony did really well in that trial. From what I’ve heard, better than the shadow weavers. She deserved to earn all those points.”

“Yeah, right,” Odessa’s friend sneers, but I’m not sure anyone else hears her, they’re all talking among themselves with excitement now.

I grab a seat in the corner, Fly takes one next to me and Clare comes to join us.

“It’s all anyone’s been talking about all morning. Everyone’s been watching out for you. You’re like a legend now.”

“Great,” I say, tearing off a large piece of toast with my teeth.

“It’s gotta be better than being hated,” Fly points out.

“I think I still have several haters.” In fact, I can spot most of them, they’re all throwing death stares my way. The other thralls, most of Odessa’s old friends, Stanley Fucking Chandlers, and those girls from Iron Quarter who tried to attack me on my first run at the academy.

Yep, I most definitely am not widely popular all of a sudden, even if I have won over a few new admirers.

Madame’s class is just like every other class she teaches. She fawns all over the shadow weavers and ignores the rest of us. I try to discern if she’s particularly flattering towards the Hardies, if there is any connection between them at all, but I can’t see that there is.

However, she does throw derogatory comments or cutting remarks my way occasionally, despite the way Dray glares at her each time, and she makes absolutely no mention of the trial or the points scored.

I’m more than happy with that; after breakfast, I’d rather forget it.

“You want to come round tonight and sit on my face, Kitten?” Dray asks way too loudly as we leave the classroom at the end of the lesson, doing nothing, I’m sure, to quell that rumor that sexual favors have earned me those points in the trial.

I poke him hard in the ribs, although he doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Dray!” I hiss.

But that doesn’t work either because next thing I know, he’s backing me right up against the wall and caging me with his body for everyone to see.

“You know it really makes me fucking hot when you tell me off like that, Kitten. Wanna skip the next lesson and come sit on my face right now?”

The idea of that is way too hot for this time of morning despite all the people staring at me again. I wasn’t exaggerating to Fly about the sex addiction thing. One word – one look – from these men has my belly swooping.

But, as Fly pointed out, I am not actually a nymphomaniac. I still have my sense and my free will so I push at his chest.

“I need some space.”

He pouts dramatically. “I hate space. It sucks. I shouldn’t be wasting my time jerking off, when I could be fucking you instead.”

I close my eyes – half-embarrassed out of my skin because the hallway is jammed packed, half really turned on.

“I’m still pretty angry with Beaufort,” I frown, “and I think Thorne is upset with me.”

“Thorne? Nah. He’s completely nuts for you, Kitten.”

“He was really off with me yesterday morning. I think I must have hurt his feelings or something,” I say, although what I did exactly, I’m not so sure.

Dray considers me. “Okay, I’ll go kick their asses into shape. And once they’ve made it up to you, you come find me, all right? Because I want to be smothered in your wet pussy. Promise?”

He holds up his pinky finger.

“Promise,” I say, hooking my own little finger around it. He leans in and kisses my mouth, then pushes off the wall and practically bounces away.

I watch him go for a moment, catching my breath and allowing my heart rate to slow.

I’m about to walk away too, the hallway now empty, when Madame Bardin appears in the doorway.

“I wonder what Professor Tudor would make of the dog drooling all over you,” she says, with one of her sinister smiles.

There are a million retorts I’d like to respond with, every single one bound to get me in trouble, so I force that blank expression onto my face, look her right in her eyes and tell her, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Then I walk away before the heat in my cheeks gives me away. Does Madame know about me and the professor? She thinks he likes me – but does she know we’re sleeping with each other?

My belly fills with worry and a nausea swims through my body.

I’ve been so caught up in my feelings, I haven’t thought about the true consequences of our actions. Yeah, I know we have to keep things a secret, but do I know what happens if we’re found out?

Especially to the professor.

The staring and the whispering continues – all through lunch and the afternoon lessons.

Except, my imagination plays tricks on me.

Convinces me they’re muttering the professor’s name, tricking me into believing that they’re no longer talking about my achievement in the trial.

Now they are talking about me and the professor.

And maybe I am right, because when I return to my room that night, after a visit to Blaze out in the forest, someone has scrawled SLUT in bright red paint across my door.