Page 105 of Twisted Ties

No, more than intrigue. A need to own her. To have her.

I’m not telling Tristan any of that. Not when he looks soangry. Not when I’ve seen him look at the girl in the same way.

My eyes automatically fall to my stomach. Thanks to my friend here, the mark is fading, slowly, but it is.

“Do you think that’s why it happened?” Tristan asks, his eyes following mine and lingering on my gut.

“Perhaps,” I say, because it had been coming long before the girl struck me with her magic. The impact of those pills lessening every day.

I take another puff of the joint and hand it to him. He shakes his head.

“Do you have a hold on it now?” he asks.

The joint hisses, the smoke twists in circles.

“I don’t know,” I admit.

When Tristan’s gone, I drag myself to the shower and wash away all the dirt and dried blood from my body. The warm water eases the ache in my bones but smarts where I’m grazed and cut up.

It’s always been strange to peer down at my body, at my arms and my legs, at my hands, and have no idea what they’ve done, where they’ve been, or what caused all the marks that line them. The first time, it had left me so disoriented, so dizzy, I’d spent the whole day and night hugging the toilet bowl.

Now I’ve grown used to it. Now I have better control over it. Or I did.

I cut off the water, and pat myself dry with the towel. Then I put on my uniform, taking special care in front of the mirror, ensuring my hair is neat, my face freshly shaven, my tie straight.

It’s the first time I’ve left my room since the night before and the campus is buzzing with gossip. I knew it would be, the group chats on my phone have been blowing up.However, despite knowing it would be this way, I still flinch when I hear the words; the awe and the disgust.

I crash through the people, even though it causes my bruised body more pain, and stride towards the mansion. I’m almost there when I feel it in my gut, that sharp tug and the monster inside stirs, suddenly alert, suddenly damn interested.

I swing my gaze around and catch sight of her, walking alongside the Enforcer. Why the fuck is he here? The monster growls. He should be silent. Hardly discernible. He’s had his taste of freedom. It should be enough to lay him dormant for weeks, maybe months. But no, he’s right here. It’s that damn girl.

She twists her head away from the Enforcer and peers towards me, meeting my eyes across the distance. Their caramel color glows in the sunlight and wisps of her dark hair dance in the breeze. She frowns and I frown right back, picking up my feet and jogging up the steps to the mansion, even though it has my guts churning.

The principal is waiting for me in her office, sitting behind her desk. I take a seat on the other side without being asked.

“What happened, Mr. Moreau?” she asks, placing down her pen and closing the letter she was writing.

“I made an error with my medication. It won’t happen again.”

“You are aware that I would be quite in my rights to expel you. I know your parents sit on the school board – I know you belong to a high-ranking family within the authorities’ hierarchy – but if the other students and parents were aware of what you are, they would most definitely demand your expulsion. In fact, the only reason I allowed you to enter the school was the very thorough reassurances Ireceived from you and your family that such an incident like last night’s would never happen. I was led to believe you had the matter under your control.”

“I do.”

“The attack last night would suggest otherwise.”

“As I said, it was an error with my medications. I will take steps to ensure such a mistake never happens again.”

The principal picks up her pen and taps it on the tabletop. “You have my sympathies, Mr. Moreau. I know this situation you find yourself in is a difficult one. The world we live in is a small-minded one with little understanding or empathy for those that are … different. I also have the safety of my students to consider.”

“I’ve been at this school for three years. Nothing like this has ever happened before. And it won’t again.”

“Good.” She pulls her piece of paper back in front of her. “Because I don’t want to deprive this school of its greatest dueling asset. Especially when we have the Cross-lantic competition virtually upon us.”

Irritation flares in my stomach. Of course, that’s the only reason she’ll turn a blind eye – no actual concern for my wellbeing – she doesn’t even consider asking if I’m okay.

“Good, then let us hope we need never speak of this again,” she adds. I nod and stand up. “I look forward to seeing you excel in next week’s game Mr. Moreau.”

Every step to the door is painful and I wonder if, even with Tristan Kennedy’s healing powers, I’ve any chance of making next week’s game.