Chapter 2

Two

I've been wailing on the punching bag for so long that my knuckles have gone numb. I grit my teeth as sweat drips down my temples, the cadence of my fists hitting the leather bag over and over again doing little to soothe the angry beast inside. The short hairs around my face stick to my cheeks and forehead and I'm breathing like I've just finished a marathon. But I don't stop.

It's been four days since Jules and her crew cornered me in the tunnels. The bruises are fading, and the swelling has gone down, but I'm no closer to figuring out how to get her and the rest of the school bullies off my back than I was the moment I walked myself into her trap that day.

I've been coming to the gym every day after school to blow off steam, which is my go-to activity when things get overwhelming. Besides it being cathartic to punch something that isn't going to punch back, some messed-up corner of my brain thinks I can fight my way out of any predicament. That if I just hit hard enough I won't be what I am anymore.

The only magicless creature on the face of the planet.

"Whoa there." Strong hands steady the weathered bag, keeping it from swinging every time my fist connects.

I keep my eyes on my target, refusing to look at Becks. I don't need to look at him to know what I'll see in his gaze: pity. I don't want anything from him, least of all his pity.

Okay, that's a lie. There are some things I want from Becks, but nothing he's willing to give me, so obsessing over what will never be is only a waste of time.

Mind you, I say that, yet here I am doing my best to beat a hole in a weathered punching bag as if that will change anything about my situation.

Becks lets me take out my aggression on the punching bag for several more minutes, waiting until he sees the strain of the workout in my flagging muscles before saying anything. He knows me well enough to know when to push me, and when to let me be.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asks.

My arms are about as strong as wet noodles at this point, so he isn't straining in the least to keep the bag still. How annoying.

"What do you think?" I snap back between punches, instantly regretting my tone. My anger isn't directed at Becks, he's just the closest target.

He frowns, flipping the lock of honey-gold hair that's fallen on his forehead away. My traitorous eyes track the movement of his hair as it flops back onto his brow rather than focus on my target, and my hand grazes off the worn leather. My momentum takes me forward and I lose my footing, tripping slightly, and Becks reaches out and stabilizes me.

His hands feel like brands on my biceps and cause a jolt of delicious awareness to shoot throughout my body. I quickly right myself and pull out of his grasp, hoping he thinks the reddening of my cheeks is from exertion alone.

"Sorry," I say with a sigh as I step away from the bag. "You didn't deserve that. It's just been a week."

I don't look up as I busy myself with removing my hand wraps. When I'm done, I open and close my hands, my fingers stiff from clenching them into fists for so long.

"Did something else happen this week?" Becks asks, his voice taking on a dark note. I glance at him, instantly seeing the tension in his face and shoulders.

I shake my head. "Nothing's happened," I answer honestly. "It's just . . ." I let the sentence drop.

How do I explain that things have changed? With Becks, I want to be so much more than what we are. I don't want to be just his charity case, his loser friend who needs to be rescued on the regular. No, with Becks I want to be his everything.

Becks' muscles relax and his eyes soften. "Anything I can do to help?"

I give him a small, hopefully convincing smile. "No. I'm fine."

He follows me over to my duffle and waits while I change shoes and wipe the sweat from my face with a hand towel.

"How did you know I'd be here?" I ask, finally in a better headspace to talk. The workout seems to have done its job helping me burn off my excess rage and frustration. It didn't hurt that I pictured Jules' and her cronies' faces on the bag as I punched away.

Becks gives me a look. "Where else would you be?"

"I'm not that predictable." Am I?

A deep laugh rumbles in Becks' chest, making goose bumps pop out on my arms. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

I roll my eyes. "Okay, fine. I'm that predictable."

Becks chuckles. "Want a ride home?" he asks, knowing I walked here because I don't have a car.

"Sure."

Not having a car isn't usually much of an issue for me. The two places I'm at the most, Nightlark and Peet's Gym, are within walking distance to my home. And then when I'm out with Becks or Ensley, they just drive. But sometimes it's nice to not have to hike back after a long workout.

Picking up my bag, we head toward the exit. Becks throws a casual arm over my shoulder as we walk, completely oblivious to how his nearness affects me. I bite my lower lip and force my body to stay loose.

"Locklyn," someone calls, and I glance back at Peet, the owner of Peet's Gym. "Gideon can't make it tomorrow to teach his class. Any chance you can fill in for him?"

Tomorrow's Friday, and as much as I wish I could say I had a life and couldn't fill in for Gideon at a moment's notice, that just isn't true. My only friends are Becks and Ensley. Friday night, Becks attends dragon council meetings, and Ensley practices with her band. Tomorrow night is pathetically wide open.

"Yeah, I can be here. Level 2's, right?" I ask and Peet nods. That won't be so bad. Level 2's are still young enough that they haven't developed their magic. It doesn't matter that I'm one of the most advanced fighters who comes to Peet's gym and can lay out guys twice my size in a fair fight. Once the students learn that I don't have magic, I lose their respect and trying to teach them is useless.

A relieved smile breaks out on Peet's face. "Thanks, Locklyn. You're a life saver."

I manage to force a smile and wave before Becks and I shove through the doors into the late afternoon dying sunlight. The early spring air has a bite to it, but I don't mind because it feels good against my overheated skin.

"Come on, I'll buy you dinner before taking you home," Becks says, leading me away from where his car is parked and down the sidewalk instead. "Food always cheers you up."

He's not wrong, but I'm a gross mess after my workout. My compression leggings and white tank are damp in embarrassing places, and my hair atop my head is a knotted mess. No self- respecting creature would be caught publicly looking like I am with the next dragon heir.

I open my mouth to give him some excuse, but at the thought of food my stomach growls loudly.

Becks looks down at my belly where my white tank is plastered against my skin and then back up at my face with an amused grin. "I'll take that as a yes," he says, and because I'm a pushover when it comes to Becks, I mumble, "Sure," and follow his lead, like a good little puppy.

Sometimes I wonder if that's how Becks sees me, as a cute little helpless puppy that follows him around and needs his protection. He might enjoy my company, but I know we aren't on equal footing, and that chafes.

I know I'm selling myself short. I have redeeming qualities. I'm funny, a great listener, sharp-witted, and the most loyal friend you'll ever find. But I'm on a roll feeling bad for and about myself today and don't have the energy to pull myself out of my funk, so I think I'll just chill here for a bit longer.

Becks has his phone out and is typing a message to someone. He hits send and jams the device back in his pocket. I don't have any clue who he was messaging, and I don't ask him. Becks may be one of my only friends, but I'm not the same for him. He's charismatic, charming, ridiculously hot, and an heir. Meaning he's practically beating creatures off with a stick who would die to be his friend, or more.

He looks up at me. "Sloan's?"

Sloan's is a local hangout and I know it will be packed with Nightlark students. The last thing I want is to see more of my fellow peers, but since I can never seem to say "no" to Becks, especially recently, I hold back a groan and nod. If he notices an iota of reluctance in me, he ignores it.

"Sweet. I already told Ensley to meet us there." He rubs his stomach causing his shirt to come up a little, showing a sliver of his chiseled flat abs. "I've been craving one of their shakes all day."

I look away quickly, my face reddening.

A bell over the door jingles when we enter Sloan's a few minutes later. Several heads turn our way and Becks waves at some shifters he knows as we take a seat in one of the only available places, a booth that is regrettably in the middle of the diner.

I shift uncomfortably in the vinyl seat, self-conscious about being the center of attention and wishing more than ever I would have taken a few minutes to shower after my workout. Reaching into my bag, I pull out a zip-up hoodie and throw it on over my tank.

A waitress heads over and takes our order, and almost immediately after she leaves I see someone approaching us out of the corner of my eye. When I look over, Vesper, a pretty vampire a year younger than us, moves to stand next to Becks. Her skirt is as short as her top is low and I notice Becks give her a quick once-over before trailing his eyes to her face.

I don't blame him. Heck, I couldn't help but look either, but that doesn't stop an ugly emotion from churning in my gut. Although I've never had an altercation with this vampire, I have the sudden urge to dump one of Sloan's famous chocolate shakes over her head.

Vesper slowly twirls a piece of her glossy brown hair around her index finger as she stares at my best friend with heavily lidded eyes. "Hey, Becks, I saw you play last weekend. That goal you made at the end of the game was epic."

Becks is the captain of Nightlark's vodenball team. The sport, which is played with a ball you can kick but also move with your powers, is seen as the ultimate measure of athleticism and magical abilities. It's the most exclusive sport at our school. Tryouts every year are cutthroat, but making the team guarantees you a certain level of clout. If he wasn't already popular for being the dragon heir, leading the school's vodenball team to victory throughout the last season would have pushed him to the top of the social ladder. I know Becks loves the sport, but I think he's ready to be done for the year. Their regular season is technically over, but they still have some post season practices and scrimmages over the next several weeks.

Becks smiles back at her, but Vesper doesn't know him well enough to realize the gesture is false. "Thanks, Vesper. Glad you could make it out. Having support really means a lot to the whole team."

She leans in closer, so her chest is eye level with Becks' face. "Well, I'm not really there to see the other players, if you know what I mean."

Yes, Vesper. He knows what you mean. We all know what you mean.

Becks sits back in his seat, keeping his eyes dutifully on her face, but his smile looks more like a grimace now.

"Yo, Ves, shove off," Ensley says as she comes up behind the leggy brunette. She nudges her out of the way so she can slide into the booth next to Becks. Ensley's golden blonde hair is streaked with red-glamoured highlights today. I dig the vibe.

Becks releases an audible sigh of relief as Ensley takes up the space between him and the pushy cheerleader.

"I was just—" Vesper starts.

"Yes, yes. You were just throwing yourself at Becks but let me save you the time and let you know he's not interested. Now shoo," Ensley says, and waves Vesper away.

Ensley's my hero.

Vesper sputters and shoots Becks a look, probably expecting him to step in and defend her, but he just shrugs.

With a huff, Vesper spins and stomps away in her three-inch heels, rejoining her friends on the other side of the restaurant.

I hold a fist up and Ensley bumps it with her own.

"The vultures just keep getting bolder," Ensley says.

She's not wrong. Becks has always been undeniably attractive. He never even went through an awkward phase. But since his power registered off the charts and he was named the dragon heir, girls have stopped trying to be subtle about their attempts to get his attention.

"But really, Becks," Ensley continues. "You need to learn to beat them away yourself. I won't always be here to do your dirty work."

"Hey, it's not like I'm encouraging them."

"You're not discouraging them either though," she says, shooting him a knowing look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, a pleat between his brows.

Ensley rolls her eyes.

The waitress interrupts our conversation by dropping off our food and taking Ensley's order, but then Becks starts it up again when she leaves. "You know no matter what I do they'll keep coming. Besides, why do you care anyway?"

Ensley's gaze flicks to me but is back on Becks so quickly I don't think he notices. I still hold my breath until the conversation moves along. I've never told a soul about my true feelings for Becks, but Ensley is sharp. She's caught me staring at him when he wasn't looking more than once, and she definitely picks up that I get uncharacteristically quiet whenever the subject of Becks' love life comes up, so I know she suspects. Which is a particular brand of awkward since she's also his sister.

"I care because your inability to turn off your smolder subjects me to the drudges of our high school society. Cheerleaders." Ensley fakes a shiver. "Yuck."

Becks chuckles as he munches on a fry.

"Why not just pick one already and be done with it. Then your girlfriend can act as your shield so I won't have to."

I'm taking a sip of my soda as Ensley suggests Becks gets a girlfriend, and I start choking. Both their heads turn toward me. Becks looks alarmed, but Ensley's gaze is knowing.

"Hey, you all right?" Becks asks as I try to control the hacking. He reaches his hand across the table, maybe to place it over mine, but then stops himself and pulls back.

I clear my throat, my voice sounding a little froggy when I say, "Yeah, just went down the wrong tube."

"So, how about it, Becks? Pick one in the lot and put us all out of our misery."

Becks takes his gaze off me to scowl at his twin, and I shoot her a glare of my own.

"I'm not going to get a girlfriend just because you don't like all the attention I get."

That's right, Becks. You tell her.

"Besides, my mate will be picked for me in a few years, so what's the point of dating now?"

My stomach sours at the reminder. Becks' life-mate will literally be decided for him. They'll pick a female with a crazy amount of magic from a high creature house, probably another shifter, but if the female is powerful enough maybe not, and that will be that. With a powerful life-mate, he'll one day be named ruler of the entire House of Dragon and live happily, or unhappily, ever after. But either way he'll never be mine.

"That's another great reason to get a girlfriend now," Ensley says. "Might as well live it up while you can."

"We've been over this before," Becks says, his head down as he pretends to find his food especially interesting. "It's not fair to the girl." And then he says more quietly. "And it's not fair to me."

Becks puts on a good face for his family, but Ensley and I know the truth. He doesn't want to be the heir to the House of Dragon. But he doesn't have a say in it either way. The dragon heir is always the most powerful dragon shifter of his generation. We always knew Becks was powerful, but it was still a surprise to all of us last year when he was named heir.

Ensley releases a low whistle, focusing on something over my shoulder. "Who is that?" she asks, her gaze lit with interest.

Becks lifts his head. His eyes narrow as he tracks someone behind me.

Lifting up and twisting in my seat, I look for what's captured their attention. It takes me all of a half second to figure it out.

The guy who just entered the diner strides toward the to-go counter, his steps eating up the distance quickly. There's more than one set of eyes on him as he leans his tanned forearms on the diner bar, waiting to place an order.

He's wearing a gray t-shirt under his unbuttoned collared shirt that's pushed up to his elbows. His dark hair, almost black, curls out from under the front of the knit cap seated on the crown of his head. I can't really tell the exact color of his eyes from this distance, but I assume because of his overall coloring that they're dark as well. Dark washed jeans and black skate shoes complete his look.

He drums his fingers against the cheap laminate and glances around the restaurant, his mouth curving into a knowing smile when he catches Vesper and her group of female vipers checking him out. He dips his chin in acknowledgment that he caught them staring and then his gaze brushes past the lot of them.

I should probably look away when his face swings toward me, but I don't. What do I care if he catches me staring? I'm not mooning over him like the other girls are. At most my gaze is inquisitive, so I don't have anything to hide. But besides all that, I'm expecting new guy's gaze to skip right over me anyway. I'm invisible to most creatures.

It's not that I think I'm ugly. Under the right circumstances I would even consider myself cute, but as a shortie with red tinted brown hair that might be considered auburn on a good day, light brown eyes, freckles, and no discernible magic, it's not like I'm stopping traffic on the regular.

As expected, new guy's gaze passes over me, but then unexpectedly tracks back.

Shoot. He's looking right at me.

When our gazes connect, I tell myself to look away, but I can't. His eyes narrow and a small crease forms between his eyebrows.

I was wrong. His eyes are blue. A light gray-blue, not dark at all.

He tilts his head like he's confused by me, but then his upper lip peels back and I get the distinct impression that something about me angers him.

That breaks my trance immediately.

Whatever. I prefer blonds anyway.

I turn back to my friends, plopping back down in my seat. "Vampire?"

There are three main creatures most of the population falls into: shifters, fae, or vampires. When it's not completely obvious which creature someone is, my friends and I like to make a guessing game out of it.

"Naw. I don't see any fangs. My money is on fae," Ensley says.

"That's just wishful thinking," I say with a chuckle. Unveiled interest shines in my friend's eyes. Most vampires only let their fangs descend when they are feeding. Ensley just likes the idea of the hot new guy being a fae like her.

Ensley tears her gaze from new guy. "Wishful thinking that's probably wasted since it's not me he's staring a hole through right now." She gives me a mischievous wink and Becks' frown deepens.

He's still staring?

It's physically hard to keep from sneaking another peek.

"Snake shifter for sure," Becks says.

I scrunch my nose. He knows I'm not overly fond of snakes. All the slithering gives me the creeps. And some snake shifters can fork their tongues without fully shifting and do oscillating tongue-flicks to taste the air, picking up on a creature's pheromones to detect if they're scared, excited, or even turned-on. It's just . . . yuck. Not to mention invasive.

I think about the look on new guy's face, how it went from inquisitive to something closer to loathing and it makes me mad. I don't need that kind of judgment from a veritable stranger. I get that enough from my schoolmates.

"I change my vote. I'm with Becks. Definitely snake shifter. He has that sketchy slimy vibe about him."

Ensley's eyes grow wide, but I don't know why. It's not like what I said is that scandalous. I've said way worse about Vesper and her friends.

"Sketchy slimy vibe, huh?" comes a deep voice from right over my shoulder. "I need to work harder on my resting face if that's what I'm giving off."

Squeezing my eyes shut, I pray for the ground to swallow me whole, but I'm not that lucky.

When I open my eyes again, the guy is standing next to our table, but thankfully he's no longer looking at me.

"Becks, right?" he says to my dragon shifter friend, who raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yeah, that's me."

"Cool. I'm starting at Nightlark Academy on Monday. My Uncle Drake told me to look for you. Said you could show me the ropes. I'm Talon."

"Drake Brayden?" Becks asks, and Talon nods. "Yeah, I know him. He's on the dragon council. Welcome." There's no genuine warmth in Becks' words.

"Thanks, man." Talon has a to-go bag clutched in one hand, but holds out his other fist to Becks, who reluctantly taps it with his own.

Interesting.

Becks is nothing if not diplomatic. He knows how to turn the charm on like a light switch, but he's not trying very hard right now. I wonder if Talon notices Becks' hesitation. If so, he doesn't act like it.

"What brings you to Everton?" Becks asks.

"My parents have a work assignment overseas, so they shipped me off to my uncle's for the rest of the academic year."

I frown. That sucks. He looks too old to be anything but a senior like us. Starting a new school well into the second semester of your last year has to be hard.

As if on cue, a group of girls pass behind Talon, giggling loudly. Talon shoots them a lopsided smirk before turning back to our table.

Pfft . I take it back. He's going to be just fine.

"So, I'll see you around then," he says to Becks, basically ignoring Ensley and me.

Ensley doesn't seem to mind the snub, she's too busy drinking him up with her eyes. But I mind. It's just rude.

Becks nods. "Yeah, sure."

Talon turns to leave, but his gaze flicks to me right before he does.

"Later, Freckles," he says under his breath as he passes.

Suddenly, something coils around my ankle and starts to slither its way up my leg. With a squawk I jump out of the booth, furiously patting my leg to brush off whatever creepy crawly is trying to scale me, but there's nothing there.

My friends, as well as diners in the booths around us, stare at me in shock. Deep chuckles reach me, and when I look over Talon is standing at the diner entrance, his smirk telling me everything I need to know. That was his little trick he played on me.

I scowl at his smile, and then he shoves through the door and is gone.