Page 28 of Wicked Dove (Institute Thirteen #1)

TWENTY-ONE

ELODIE

Istretch my arms above my head, pointing my toes down as every muscle in my body groans with delight.

I don’t stop until a shiver runs down my spine, confirming I’ve untangled the knots riddling my body.

Satisfied, I pry my eyes open and peer at the sun casting a glow across the room from the window.

Something about it makes me smile. The way it grazes across my legs, leaving the rest of me in darkness, is mesmerizing.

I’m so caught up in the whimsical effect it has on me that it feels like an eternity passes before I realize I’m not in my own bed. Startled, I bolt upright, running my gaze across the room as I slowly remember where I am.

Rion’s room.

My heart gallops in my chest as I peer at the alarm clock perched on his nightstand to see that it’s almost seven in the morning.

Holy crap.

I can’t believe I slept through the night, but realizing I did it in someone else’s bed is even more confusing.

I must have been completely wrecked from the night before, but I refuse to acknowledge the fact that I somehow felt safe enough to pass out so hard.

Although, I think I’m even more shocked that Rion didn’t try to worm his way into bed in the middle of the night.

The sheets beside me are crumpled from me alone, and his scent isn’t any stronger than it was when I first came in here.

To be fair to him, he held up his promise.

He brought me a towering pile of food that I absolutely demolished, I dared to watch my all-time favorite show, and it was bliss.

We didn’t have access to cable or streaming services at home, but sometimes I would go to Walker’s and he would have it playing on his television, giving me the chance to indulge.

All while having zero interruptions from anyone.

Regardless, I need to get out of here. Ideally, unseen.

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I take a deep breath and swing my legs over the side of the bed, trying to be as quiet as I can. I make it to the door with ease, shoes and blazer in hand, without a single creak beneath my feet, but nerves threaten to get the better of me as I grab the door handle.

I hold my breath as I turn it, exhaling with a whoosh as it only makes the tiniest sound.

Prying the door open a little at first, I’m greeted with a random dining chair perched in front of the door.

It definitely wasn’t there when I first got here, and I don’t know why it’s there now, but it’s empty, so I’m going to bypass it as quietly as possible.

My pulse thrums through my veins as I approach the front door, on the cusp of relief as I reach the final obstacle between me and freedom, when a voice cuts through the air.

“Going somewhere?”

Dammit.

I steel my spine as I tilt my attention to the other side of the room, where Thorne stands in one of the doorways.

“To my room,” I rasp, nerves clogging my throat. I’m certain he’s about to holler for Kael, but when his lips part, he surprises me.

“Don’t worry, Rion distracted Kael this morning, so you have a clear path. But first, I have something for you.”

I frown, my eyebrows pinching as I blink at him. It’s like he knows what I’m thinking or something. It’s eerie, and I can’t say I like it.

He takes a step back, opening his bedroom door wider, but I shake my head.

“I think I’m okay, but thanks,” I start to turn the handle, but he grunts.

“It wasn’t a question,” he demands, his laser dark stare going past me to look at the door a moment before the sound of the latch echoes through the room.

I gape in disbelief, staring and twisting the handle with desperation to no avail. “You did not just do that,” I gasp, snapping my gaze back to his, but he doesn’t even bother to offer a response as he steps farther into his room, nodding for me to follow.

Nausea rises in my stomach as my pulse thrums even harder. I want to run, but it’s clear I have no option but to follow his command.

Fear claws at me as I cut the distance between us and step into his room, my body riddled with trepidation.

He closes the door behind me with a resounding thud, sending a shiver down my spine as I absorb every inch of his room.

There’s not a hint of personality in here either.

The walls are a dark navy, so dark I could swear it is black, except for the way it glows under the morning sun.

Dark furniture fills the room, which is an identical layout to Rion’s with a walk-in closet and bathroom off to either side.

The first difference I notice is the lack of a television.

Actually, other than the sparse furnishings that dot the hollow space like afterthoughts, the only thing that stands out is a board pinned above the desk in the far corner.

My feet carry me away from him and toward the small splattering of color in search of safety. He watches me, seemingly unfazed by the fact I’m darting around his room without care, leaving me to channel all of my focus into the four items attached to the board.

There’s a photo. I immediately spot a younger version of him surrounded by a smaller girl, a man, and a woman.

Is that his family? The way the little girl beams at the camera, her arms locked tight around Thorne, tells me she has to be.

Beside the photo is a single piece of red ribbon that’s slightly frayed in the middle, along with a broken pocket watch hanging by its chain, and a cracked pocket mirror that’s too destroyed to show even a hint of my reflection.

The ribbon calls to me and I lift my hand, but before I can get anywhere near it, Thorne’s voice cuts through the air. “Don’t touch that.”

“I’m sorry,” I rush, lurching back, but the ribbon still holds my attention.

It takes me a moment, but I quickly see why.

It’s the same ribbon that’s tied in the little girl’s hair in the photo.

“She’s so cute,” I breathe, and it instantly feels as though the room is drenched in grief before he even speaks.

“She’s dead.”

My heart aches. “I’m sorry.” I look at him this time, making sure he feels my apology, but when I latch onto his gaze, his eyes narrow.

“Did you kill her?” he bites sarcastically as tension continues to radiate from him, and I gulp.

“She was killed?” I breathe, my heart shattering for him and for her. My chest is so tight that it feels impossible to inhale a single molecule of oxygen.

It’s him, I have to turn away.

The air eases a little as I turn back to the board, but the ribbon captures me once again. “You kept her ribbon,” I blurt, wishing I could keep my goddamn mouth shut, but it feels impossible.

“That’s not your business,” he snarls, and I gulp, aware of just how right he is, but instead of apologizing again, I fight fire with fire.

“You invited me in here,” I state, cocking a brow at him as I find his gaze again.

“A fact I’m regretting.”

The suffocating feeling churns through me and I grab the desk to keep my balance. I need to get out of here right now, but instead, I open my damn mouth again.

“Thorne, how did she die? You don’t have to tell me, but I feel like I’m suffocating,” I rasp, unable to stand straight, and he tilts his head at me, or is it because I’m leaning?

Regardless, there’s a weird look on his face. One I don’t think I like.

“My homeland was attacked. She died in my parents’ arms moments before they joined her,” he whispers, and my jaw falls slack at the fact that he even answered.

“Where were you?” I push, willing myself to shut the fuck up, but I can’t.

“Locked away,” he mutters, shaking his head, and my eyebrows rise in confusion. “As the heir to the Shadow Fae throne, I had to be held separately.”

He exhales as he gets the words out, and the moment he does, I feel as though I can breathe again. Curling my hand around the edge of the desk, I lean back against it, heaving each breath into my lungs.

“I’m sorry,” I say when I can finally catch my breath, and he frowns.

“Sorry? Everyone says I was the lucky one,” he bites, and I scoff, the sound weak as I gape at him.

“There is nothing lucky about being unable to defend your homeland or your family when your world is crumbling around you.”

My words hang in the air, locking our gazes together, and with every breath I take, my heart rate kicks up a notch. I feel dizzy standing off with him, but I can’t bring myself to move.

“You need to leave now,” he suddenly grunts, and it’s like he frees me from the spot I was trapped in.

I dart for the door without a second of hesitation, recalling the time he ordered me to stay away from him in the empty classroom.

I should tell him it’s his fault I’m in here to begin with, but I’d rather save myself from any more of his wrath.

I twist the door handle and it opens effortlessly, but before I can step into the lounge, he calls out my name, and I pause.

“Don’t forget these.”

Peering back at him, he approaches with a pair of gloves in his hand.

“What are they for?” I murmur, confusion rising as his black eyes swirl with flecks of charcoal.

“They will stop you from siphoning anyone when you’re wearing them.”

“Thank you.” I don’t know whether I like the idea of them or not, but it could definitely be helpful in ensuring I remain benign and seen as less of a threat.

“Don’t thank me. I just don’t want to have to drain my magic by having to redact you and your magic from everyone’s memory.”

I blink at him as he shoves the gloves against my chest. “I—”

“Get the fuck out,” he snarls, and I run, charging at the locked door with apprehension fueling my every step, but it swings open with ease as I launch myself out into the hallway.

I don’t stop, not until I’m on the other side of my bedroom door with Ocean sitting on her bed, blinking at me with a hint of amusement in her eyes.

I sag back against the door, gloves firmly in my grasp along with my blazer and shoes as I try to breathe, a task that proves more and more difficult in Thorne’s presence.

“Hey,” she murmurs, swinging her legs over the side of her bed.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t—”

She waves me off before I can get myself worked up any more than I already am.

“Rion stopped by,” she explains, and I nod as a scoff parts my lips.

“Of course he did,” I grumble, unsure of how I feel about him doing that.

“I’m going to assume it wasn’t him who put that look on your face,” she states, and I stare at her with wide eyes, trying to act as casual as possible.

“What look?”

“Panic,” she admits, and I grimace.

“Thorne.”

“That makes more sense,” she says with a grin, rising to her feet as she brushes off the lapels of her jacket. “Ready to go?”

I stare down at myself, aware I need to get ready for classes. I already cut out on afternoon lessons yesterday, so I don’t want to make anything else worse for myself. I’ve already got my hands full with the assholes across the hall.

“Can you give me ten minutes?” I ask, and she nods.

“For sure.”

I hurry into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me as I drop everything I’m holding and dart toward the sink. Turning the faucet on, I splash water on my face, but it does nothing to calm the swirling emotions inside of me.

I get the feeling I’m going to need longer than ten minutes. I don’t think even ten years will be enough time.