19. Talk
My stomach felt twisty with nervous butterflies by the time I reached the doors of the lecture hall. I was early, as per usual, and a few students were still loitering about outside, waiting for their friends to arrive or smoking the end of their cigarette.
I slipped past them soundlessly, my head bowed. With each step I took, my nervousness increased to the point of nausea. I had been dreading this moment all weekend, ever since it really started to dawn on me that I'd have to see Lexie in class. She hadn't contacted me at all over the weekend and I certainly hadn't contacted her, so I had no idea how she was feeling about our fight.
Hell, I wasn't even sure how I felt about our fight. I was still mad. No, I was beyond mad — I knew that I was partly to blame for what had happened in the club, but that didn't mean she had to scoff at my attempts to save her butt — again — and drag my mother into it. Especially knowing what she knew.
A part of me was a little scared that if I came face-to-face with her today, I'd probably hit her again.
I pushed open the door and stepped inside the dimly lit lecture hall, tugging off the fingers of my gloves as I walked. Only a handful of students had already arrived, and Lexie was most definitely not one of them. I had to remind myself that the likelihood of Lexie showing up was remote, anyway — Lexie rarely ever made it to her morning classes unless she had something important or gossip-y to tell me.
I slid into one of the seats at the back and pulled out my notepad and pens, carefully avoiding the book that Georgina had given me, which now lay at the bottom of my bag. I had spent all day Sunday pouring over the book, trying to make some sense of it — but if anything, it had left me more confused than before. But still, I drawn one pretty clear conclusion: Lexie had no fudging clue what she had gotten herself messed up in this time.
According to the book, she hadn't really had much choice — it was in her blood. From the moment she was born, she had been destined to "bond" with Aiden. They were linked by an old, unfathomable form of magic that couldn't be broken. Coming face-to-face with him had only activated the bond.
It sounded almost romantic — almost. There were too many creepy drawbacks to the bond, like the ability to communicate telepathically or influence how the other was feeling. The idea of somebody being able to get inside my head like that was beyond freaky — I shuddered at the thought.
Lexie was really walking over a minefield this time.
Slowly, students began to trickle into the lecture hall. My stomach plummeted when Lexie walked through the doors, but she barely glanced in my direction as she made her way down the steps to her usual location. She looked pale and cold, but then, it was freezing outside, so that meant nothing.
I watched as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and pulled out her things, settling herself into her seat.
All at once, my nerves seemed to deflate. She was ignoring me. All of my worrying and nerves had been for nothing — she wasn't even going to acknowledge my existence.
A pang of hurt echoed through my chest, but I suppressed it ruthlessly. It was better this way; if she had confronted me, I probably would have decked her again. I wasn't ready to just forgive and forget — or fight all over again. As much as I knew about her new situation, my anger far outweighed my sympathy, and it was going to take a while for the scales to tip in her favour again.
Still... a part of me had hoped that she'd at least apologize.
I rolled my eyes. When had apologies ever been in Lexie's repertoire?
"Is this seat taken?"
I jumped, my pen doing some sort of flip-flop over the edge of the desk as it flew out of my hand. I glanced up, my heart in my mouth, as a shadow loomed over me.
"Uh," I said unintelligently. "N-no — I guess not."
Diego half-smiled and dropped his bag next to mine, sliding easily into the seat. I watched as she slipped off his jacket and slouched down on the seat, his white t-shirt pulled taut over his broad, muscular chest. As he moved, a fresh, earthy smell wafted in my direction mixed with the scent of snow and lightly fragranced soap.
I had a feeling that if somebody ever managed to bottle his smell, they'd make a fortune.
My gaze slid down to his forearms, and a wave of heat flooded my cheeks. The memory of his fingers gripping my hair while I emptied my guts up into the toilet flashed through my brain.
Oh god!
"Have you got a Prince Charming complex?" I asked in a low voice.
Dr. Barton appeared on the podium below, a badly knitted scarf wrapped around his neck. "My wife," he explained with a grimace as he pulled it off.
"Why?" Diego's head tilted in my direction, his warm breath whispering across my cheek. "Do you find me charming?"
"No," I lied. "I was referring to your predilection for damsels-in-distress." I flipped open my notebook to a random page and grabbed another pen, dragging the tip in random circles over the blank paper. "I thought the whole throwing-up thing would have put you off."
"Actually," Diego corrected, his voice edged with amusement, "I think you're the one with the Prince Charming complex. You're the one who rushes to everybody's rescue."
I flashed him a grin. "Does that make you the damsel?"
He cocked one brow at me and held his arms out slightly, drawing attention to his body. Even the fabric of his jeans seemed like it had been painted on, the swell of his muscles outlined beneath the navy material. It was so easy to lose my train of thought when he drew attention to himself that way; he had the kind of body that most guys would kill for — and it didn't look like he'd acquired it in a gym, either.
"Do I look like a damsel?"
My mouth ran dry. "Touché."
"And the "throwing-up thing" didn't put me off," he said. "It's not like you could help it."
I frowned at him. It's not like I could help it? Since when had that mattered to any guy, ever? I'd seen girls get dumped for less — and we weren't even dating. "But it's gross," I pointed out.
"So is your apparent lack of interest in Dr. Barton's lecture," Diego murmured, his eyes flicking back to the front of the room. For a moment, I thought he was serious — he did look like he was concentrating pretty hard on the lecture... but then his eyes glanced in my direction, and the glimmer of amusement there made me feel like an idiot.
He's teasing me.
"... from intense studies that actually allude to the presence of these half-human, half-wolf creatures that existed within Roman society at the time." Dr. Barton brought up a series of photographs of statues and monuments scattered across Rome that depicted various images of wolves.
I tilted my head as I studied the images. They all looked like normal wolves — not the giant, feral creatures that I'd been imagining in my head. It made me wonder what Diego looked like when he... changed.
"A common supposition in mythology is that these werewolves were the bodyguards of the emperor. They protected him — and the city — from attacks by marauders and people who opposed the empire in exchange for shelter and safety."
"Wouldn't it be weird if that arrangement still stood?" I murmured. "I mean, the whole world would know about them. And Rome would pretty much rule the planet."
"We have the... strength and the knowledge required to be bodyguards," Diego said quietly, "but do you really see a race of powerful beings with little weaknesses playing nice with a bunch of power-hungry humans?"
"I guess not," I conceded, my eyes on the podium. "Is that why the arrangement fell apart?"
"We're hardwired, instinctively, to bow to the most powerful of our kind," Diego explained. "There are a few ways to determine the strongest but in the old days, a fight to the death was all it took. You kill the toughest, you become the toughest — and you win respect and loyalty. Nowadays, the strongest wolves come from the purest bloodlines. To be pure is to be strong — and to be strong is to rule. Strength and purity and prized above all."
"Is that why you're all so... brawny?"
A faint smile appeared on Diego's face. "Yes."
"If you're so strong... why do you all hide? Wouldn't it be easier to take over the world or something?"
"We're strong," Diego agreed, "but our numbers are small. There are around eighty thousand purebloods living in Europe. Nobody's got a good head count of the lupi here, though —this is where the runaways come to escape the Royals."
I stared at him as I soaked up all the information he was offering me. I hadn't known him for very long, but he didn't strike me as the cowardly type. I couldn't imagine him running away from anybody or anything — and yet, I couldn't deny that he had a Spanish accent and he was living here, a haven to all runaway lupi. I was half-afraid to ask him about it — I mean, we obviously hadn't known each other that long, and it didn't really feel like something that you could just share with an acquaintance, but...
I was curious.
I wanted to know him. I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted to know what made him tick, what made him think the way he did.
I wanted to know why he got shot and whether or not he was in danger.
I wanted to know who his parents were and why he'd chosen to study anthropology at the University of Minnesota.
A flicker of fear rose in my chest. This was further than I'd ever gone with a boy emotionally, and yet I felt like I was taking baby steps away from the starting line. I was still waist-deep in acquaintance territory — I couldn't even call him a friend yet... but it was there.
That curiosity — that one feeling that I'd promised myself I'd never get, that I'd never allow myself to feel.
"You're wearing your freak-out face again."
"I'm imagining a world where werewolves ruled the planet," I lied.
"In another dimension," he said softly, "they do."
——————————————
"Oh gosh, it's freezing!" Charlie whimpered for the millionth time.
I rolled my eyes — again — but inwardly, I was secretly agreeing with her. I had been dreading this walk all afternoon as soon as it dawned on me that I had another kickboxing lesson tonight. My grandmother had found out that I'd skipped a lesson last week and judging from the tone of her text message earlier that afternoon, she hadn't been impressed.
Then again, she hadn't known about the whole shooting incident. I had a feeling that she would have been a helluva lot more understanding if she had any inkling what had gone down this time last week. It had taken all of my willpower to drag my butt out the door and the only thing keeping me from turning around and walking back home was the fact that Charlie was with me.
Strength in numbers, right?
"We're almost there," I told her.
"Thank god Logan is picking us up later. I don't think I could stomach the walk home."
I heartily agreed with her — for a completely different reason.
My stomach flat-lined as we hurried by Diego's apartment building and the alleyway where he'd gotten shut. I wanted to glance up and see his face staring down at me from one of the apartment windows above my head, but his particular apartment was located on the other side of the complex. He wouldn't have been able to see me.
The alleyway was dark and bleak looking, and a pulse of fear rushed through me as we passed. I studied the snow for traces of blood, but I had a feeling that any evidence had been washed away long ago. All I had was the memory to remind me of what happened that night.
I shuddered, wrapping my arms tight around my abdomen.
"Ugh! I can't wait for summer!" Charlie moaned.
"Me too."
We arrived at Ian's gym with plenty of time to spare. We trudged up the stairs to the girls' changing room and slipped reluctantly into tank tops and sweatpants. At least the heating was on full blast — I could feel the warmth slowly starting to infiltrate my body once more, and my teeth stopped chattering after a few minutes.
Carrie, Tamara and Sarah breezed in after us, waving distractedly at us as they started changing themselves.
"I actually think this might have been worth it," Charlie admitted as we made our way toward the main room. "I feel like I haven't exercised properly in months."
I fiddled self-consciously with the neckline of my tank top. "Are my hickeys showing?" I muttered. Charlie had helped me cover them up with concealer before we'd left, but I was still a little wary of them showing.
"Not unless you're up close," Charlie promised.
Somehow, her words didn't really reassure me.
We stepped into the room and a wave of nervous energy rushed through me. Ian was setting up the stereo at the back of the room and speaking to one of the regular boys in a low voice. I glanced around, my eyes finally landing on a familiar face.
The blond guy I'd been paired with the last day — Killian — was chatting to a few of the other boys, a confident smile on his face.
"Ooh." Charlie slid a suggestive glance in my direction. "Who's he?" she mouthed.
I shrugged one shoulder, feeling a little awkward. I didn't really want to admit to her that I knew him in case she assumed he was the one responsible for the hickeys on my neck.
He glanced up as we walked in and I smiled awkwardly as I caught his gaze. He lifted a hand in some sort of half-wave, half-salute before returning to his conversation.
It felt like a balloon popped in my stomach and the pressure lifted.
That was weird¸ I thought as I followed Charlie to the back of the room.
"I saw that," she teased.
"Shut up."
She rolled her eyes.
We started to stretch out our limbs, getting back into our usual routine. Charlie hummed along to the song on the stereo and I laughed at her when she hummed out of tune, earning a dirty look. After a few minutes, I noticed that she was bending in a way that allowed the boys an excellent view of her toned backside.
I shook my head, a reluctant smile crossing my face.
"All right, let's go." Ian directed the class into a loose circle to begin his more formal stretches. Somehow, I wound up next to Charlie and Killian, and any time we made accidental eye contact, Killian offered me a small smile.
It took me a few minutes to realize that his smile didn't automatically start ringing alarm bells. Before, I probably would have been glaring at him — hell, I'd all but glared at him the last time we'd come face to face, but today... it was like my natural aversion to the male species was broken.
Is that Diego's doing? I wondered.
Once we were all stretched out, I was warm and sweaty and my heart was beating fast in my chest.
"Today we'll be working in threes," Ian announced. "Grab some pads and split into groups."
"You can join us, if you like," Charlie said to Killian before Ian had even finished speaking. Killian's brows rose a little bit, but then he shrugged.
"All right. If Paige is okay with that?"
I nodded slowly. "Yeah."
Charlie jogged over to the equipment shelf to grab the pads and I took a few steps backwards, trying to find a good spot at the back of the room for the three of us to work. Killian followed me at a more easy-going pace.
"You're alive, then," he said.
A flicker of wariness rose in my chest. "Excuse me?"
He smiled. "Last week, you didn't turn up... I thought maybe something bad had happened."
"Oh." I felt my shoulders loosen a little. "No — I just had a lot of... college work to do."
"Already?" His brows rose. "It's just the start of the semester."
"I like to stay on top of things."
"I hear you," Charlie grinned. "Paige loves to be on top." When she caught my glare, she added, "Of things."
Killian looked at me, amusement bright in his eyes, and I wanted to kick Charlie in the backside.
"Give me those." I grabbed the pads from her hands. "Let's go."
An hour later, I was completely beat. Charlie was sprawled out on the floor, her face the picture of boredom. She had quickly given up on trying out the different punches when Killian and I had gotten into our own personal punching match that had left me bruised and exhausted.
I had no idea what had possessed me to get so competitive, but the more hits he delivered to the pads, the more I wanted to match him punch-for-punch. I had to admit, I felt a ton of satisfaction as I noted his heavy breathing and the tired lines at his eyes. I'd given as good as I'd gotten.
"You've really stepped up your game," Killian noted as we returned the pads.
"Thanks," I murmured.
The memory of punching the gunman's jaw rose in my mind — like it had, constantly, over the past hour. For the first time since I'd started getting these lessons, I actually felt like I had something to train for.
"See you Wednesday?"
I glanced up at him, but his expression was just — friendly. I nodded cautiously. "Yeah. Probably."
"Cool."
And then he was gone, walking toward the door. I shoved the pads back on the equipment shelf and wandered back over to Charlie. She had climbed to her feet and was rubbing her arms slowly, a smile hovering on the edges of her mouth.
I didn't even bother asking — I had a feeling I knew what she was thinking and I really didn't want to hear her say it out loud.
We walked out into the girls' changing room and grabbed our stuff, changing as quickly as possible.
"Logan should already be outside," Charlie promised. "I told him that class ended fifteen minutes ago in case he decided to take his time."
"Good thinking."
We started down the stairs and I reached for my cell phone. I'd promised my grandmother that I'd text her after I was done with class, just so she knew I hadn't skipped again. I patted down my sweatpants, a spasm of panic squeezing at my chest when I realized that it was missing.
"Charlie," I called. "I can't find my cell phone."
She faced me on the stairs, a soft frown marring her brow. "Did you check your bag?"
I shook my head and pulled my bag off my back, pulling open the zip. I rooted around for a little while, but all I could find was my wallet and the spare change of clothes I'd brought with me. Definitely no cell phone.
"What about your locker?"
"I'll go check. You can go wait with Logan if you want?"
"Okay." Charlie nodded. "If you can't find it, maybe you could say something to Ian?"
"Yeah, I'll do that."
I started back up the stairs, a sliver of impatience rushing through me. Usually my cell phone was the first thing I checked for — how had I forgotten this time? My head really wasn't with it today.
When I stepped into the changing room, I was met with eerie silence. The other girls were gone, their lockers locked up tight beneath the bright, fluorescent light. I hurried over to my own locker, pulling my key out of my pocket and opening it up as fast as I could manage.
"Please be inside," I muttered under my breath.
I tugged open the door, a rush of relief flooding my system as I noticed the small, compact device at the very back of the little space. I reached for it, my fingers closing around the cool metal, but before I could manage to secure my grip on the phone, something hard and brutal hit the back of my skull.
A millisecond later, I crumbled to the floor as my whole world went black.