26. Brax

BRAX

Eat. Sleep. Workout. Repeat. Eat. Sleep. Workout. Jack off. Repeat.

That’s been my mantra for the weekend while I hide away from the rest of the house. I’m a fucking basket case, but that’s not new information. Classes might start again in a few hours but that just means I add them to the cycle as opposed to stopping what’s currently helping me.

Although, helping feels like a big stretch of the word since nothing has kept her off my mind. It’s fucking annoying as hell and embarrassing as shit, but that’s where I’m at.

I haven’t made eye contact with the devil herself since she was in my lap, claiming my mouth. The feeling hasn’t gone away, the tingle on my lips and tongue still present, and it only makes me more frustrated with her. I don’t act like this. I’m not weak like this. But she seems to have a way of bringing it out in me.

Fuck.

Dipping down into another press up, I do two more and finish my set before pushing up to my feet with a sigh. Sweat clings to me as the early morning sun peeks over the mountain range in the distance. The view from this house is my favorite thing about it. It’s calming and breathtaking, offering a hint of serenity to this crazy life and the overwhelming emotions that continue to plague me.

I take a deep breath, exhaling hard as I step through the grass toward the low fence that lines the perimeter of our garden. Birds chirp in the distance, the waves crash below and the clouds float through the sky like my world hasn’t been flipped upside down. I still breathe it all in, letting my mind pretend everything is actually calm, but I know I’m lying to myself.

The unmistakable sound of the patio door sliding open pulls me from the moment and I slowly turn around to see Eldon. Uncertainty wars in his eyes, just like they have since I stormed out on Friday night, but I get the sense I can’t avoid him this time.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

“I had a feeling you would be out here early,” he says, moving toward the weights we have set up, and I make my way over to him.

“Well good for you,” I grumble, swiping a hand down my face, and he snickers.

“You’re a snarky bastard sometimes, you know that?”

“I’m aware.” I reach for my water bottle on the table beside him and feel his eyes on me the entire time I take a drink. Once the cap is back in place, he plants his hands on his hips and cocks a brow at me.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“After all these years, you suddenly think I’m a talker?” I laugh, shaking my head at him in disbelief.

“No, but you are my brother and I can sense something going on inside of you.”

“I don’t need you analyzing me,” I grunt, grabbing my towel and wiping it over the back of my neck.

“I never said you did, but if you’re hurting, I want to understand and help, Brax.”

It’s moments like this where the self-doubt worms its way in again and I’m left questioning if we’re standing here today as friends, as brothers, or because I’m a project for him. Despite his swagger and charm, he wears his heart on his sleeve and I can read him like a book. Which is why I also have to remember that he fucking loves so easily once he lets you in and, as bizarre as it may seem, that includes me too.

My parents were friends with his when I was small, both warriors in their own right, both lost to the shadows. I was five when the news came in and the confusion I felt over why my mama and papa weren’t coming home still haunts me to this day.

Eldon’s mother didn’t bat an eye at taking me in, she demanded it. My mama had a sister, my aunt Faron, but she refused to allow me to go anywhere but with her. The solace I find in her, her husband, and Eldon stems from her unwavering love.

My head space right now weirdly feels more fucked up than it did back then. I’ve never felt this level of confusion before, but I can sense why it has a hold on me and that’s exactly why I don’t like it.

Am I hurting? No. Do I wish it was as simple as that? Yes.

His eyes continue to search my face and it’s pointless for me to try and hide my true feelings from him because he always fucking knows.

“I don’t know what you want me to say to you,” I finally murmur, meeting his stare. I can’t deny that I’m obviously lost in my head, but I’m definitely not understanding my own feelings and emotions enough to blurt them all out to him.

“I’m not asking you to say anything, I’m just telling you I’m here when you're ready,” he responds, clapping me on the shoulder, and the tension that was starting to rush up my spine eases.

The second he gives me an out, all of the words that have been spiraling in my mind all weekend threaten to explode from my lips but I lock them shut. His hand drops from my shoulder and I clear my throat.

“Are we done here?”

“No,” he snorts. “We’ve got loads more reps to do before breakfast and you know it.”

Without another word, he grabs the weights and signals for me to join him. It takes two whole seconds for me to drop my bravado and do just that.

This is exactly why he’s my brother. Because, just like that, he understands the mental space I need, drops the questions, yet remains present enough to be my pillar of support.

* * *

Walking to the academy building, I keep one step ahead of the others. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end every time a certain someone looks at me, and it gets so overwhelming that I channel a drop of my magic and turn my neck to stone to stop it from happening. But, although the sensation may have disappeared, the sense and knowing that she is looking remains.

I know I’m going to have to address her at some point but there’s no way in hell it’s happening now. So I settle on listening to her and Leila gossiping about whatever random shit Leila always seems to know.

Entering the academy halls, there’s no congratulations, no excessive introduction back into school life. Just… nothing. It’s as if last week never happened, but the number of students tells a different story. There’s a somber feeling around us until I hear Genie and her friends cackling and everything is back to normal again.

I slip inside the guys’ locker room without a backward glance. Finn and his friends are already here, joking around in the corner, while others focus on getting changed, and it blows my mind that no one else seems to feel the underlying tension from when we were last here.

It sounds harsh, cruel, and ridiculous, but would it not be better to lose students in battle? Like dying for an actual cause rather than some test that benefits nobody? Instead of staining every inch of the academy with their blood, why not on a battlefield? It’s all completely fucked, but what do I know?

If Eldon told the others about our stilted chat this morning, none of them mention it. They’re used to my silent phases by now and today’s no different.

Switching out my uniform for my athletic shorts and tee, I’m ready for ordnance class. It feels like the likeliness of them finally pulling out some weapons is getting further and further away at this point. As much as I agree that our bodies are our number one weapon, give me something to play with.

I silently wait for the others to be ready before we head outside. Surprisingly, Raven is already waiting with Leila and I make the mistake of meeting her gaze. Uncertainty wars in her brown eyes, her teeth nervously sinking into her bottom lip, and my cock instantly swells at the sight of her.

Clenching my hands at my sides, I storm past her and head for the field without a backward glance. I’m never going to survive living with her, especially if I can’t even look at her without my body responding.

Professor Figgins is wearing a grave expression as I near her and it’s unnerving. Not that she’s usually very smiley, but the tightness of her jaw and the pinch between her eyebrows is not the reception we usually receive.

I join the already-forming group surrounding her, my friends right behind me. Eldon stops at my right, Creed on my left, while Zane edges in front of us with Raven secured under his arm. I startle when Leila comes to a stop beside the she-devil, her gaze fixed on me with an inquisitive glint in her eyes.

She rubs her lips together before leaning closer to Raven to whisper in her ear. I know she’s talking about me, I can feel it, but what am I going to do about it?

Nothing.

“If everyone can join us as quickly as possible, that would be appreciated,” Professor Figgins hollers, silencing the group already here as the final stragglers arrive. She waits a moment to be sure she has everyone’s attention before she releases a heavy sigh. “While we’ve spent the weekend recovering from the Gauntlet, two of our outposts were attacked. The first was at Pinebrook, which was completely neutralized within minutes.” Damn. We were just there too. “However, the second attack on one of Ashdale’s outposts wasn’t so seamless,” she admits, her shoulders sagging slightly.

“What happened?” Raven asks, her voice etched with concern as she folds her arms tightly over her chest and Zane’s hold at her waist tightens.

“The attackers managed to get past the first wall, resulting in four fatal casualties…all fourth years.”

Shit.

Murmurs dance in the air around us as the news washes over everyone. My gut clenches, reminding me of my earlier thought of dying in battle instead of a fucking academy-based Gauntlet. Death is death in the end, we’re all heading to the same place, and those who died here and those at the outpost all deserve the same grace. Yet we’re feeling more remorse now than we did all of last week.

“What attacked them?”

Everyone’s attention shifts back to Raven and Figgins shrugs. “Those details haven’t been confirmed yet. I’m hoping we’ll learn more when the remaining fourth years from that station return this evening.”

It must be serious if they’re returning. But who is going to protect the barrier without them?

“I’m assuming alternative defense measures have been organized for the outpost for that to happen,” Raven states. There’s no disheartened approach to those coming home, just a simple observation.

Like mine.

Fuck. She needs to stop weaving her web. She’s the black widow and I’m the embarrassing insect, eager to fall into her clutches despite knowing it’s no good for me.

“That information is above our pay grade, Miss Hendrix, but good questions. Let’s hope you’ll survive this place to use them in the right circumstances.” With that, Figgins steps back, dismissing the conversation.

The dangers are getting more frequent and closer to home, but from whom? And why? They don’t give us much information and we deserve some answers.

Figgins whips her arms out at her sides and rack after rack of swords appear. “It’s time we start upping our training. Take a walk through the racks, you’ll know which sword belongs to you.”

My eyebrows rise at her vague-as-fuck instructions, but she’s the professor so we all start to move without questioning it. I hold back, needing a little distance from everyone as my mind whirls. Assessing the racks, I consider where to start. Despite Raven being at the stand to my right, my body is drawn in that direction too.

“Each row of swords is made with a different metal and blessed with a different engraving. Whichever one you select is yours to keep. I’ll provide sheaths at the end of the lesson, but once assigned, they are yours until you die.”

Optimistic. Excellent.

Raven hasn’t moved along by the time I get there and, as much as I try to keep my distance, I get a tingling feeling down my arm, drawing me closer to the sword on the other side of Raven. Avoiding any connection, I slip past her. Before I can stop myself, I reach for the blade at the exact same time she grabs the one behind it. Our eyes connect, surprise flickering in her gaze.

We both hiss at the same time we make contact with our chosen swords, the edges cutting into our palms, and droplets of blood quickly trail down the silver blades before pooling on the ground. A round of hisses ricochet around us from the rest of the students as they too seem to go through the same weird ritual of selecting a sword.

“Why does it feel like the sword chose me? Not the other way around?” Raven murmurs, searching my gaze for an answer. But I don’t have one. I felt it too. The fact that they just drew blood feels like an omen or something. I don’t know how to feel about this; the swords, the same selection as Raven, Raven in general…all of it.

I get the feeling the brutality we’re going to face at the hands of the academy is only going to worsen with the news of the outpost.

“Excellent. If you’ve all selected, let’s begin, shall we? The swords are going to be a new limb for each of us, a weapon when our magic isn’t enough.”

Raven gulps and my heart clenches.

Eventually I’m going to have to accept how fucked I am. And I get the feeling it’s not going to be on my terms.