11. Rowan

Chapter 1 1

Rowan

" I 'll, ah, come back later," I stammer, trying to work out what to do with my eyes. I simultaneously want to look toward the smooth swath of skin showing at the top of Logan’s perfectly muscled ass, and to see nothing more of what’s happening in that general vicinity. The wet sounds of hips slapping against thighs and the girl’s soft grunts of pleasure mark the time. Heat flares through my face. And through the rest of me.

"You can stay," Logan calls over his shoulder, without slowing down his thrusts. "Alyssa likes the extra eyes, don't you pet?" He drives harder into the blonde and her answering moan of approval tells me he’s right.

I most definitely don’t want to be aiding and abetting Alyssa's orgasm.

I go for the door and try to think about potted plants. Or potions. Anything except the rhythmic slap slap slap of flesh.

Logan sighs in annoyance. “Fine. Just don’t go far.”

I consider telling him where he and his orders can go, but he is one of Kai’s triad and I don’t think any part of that would end well for me. I’m not about to get myself into more trouble than I’m in already.

"I'll… be outside." I slip out before Logan can offer more guidance and flatten myself against the wall, catching my breath. Maybe I should make a run for it after all. Except where would I go and to what end? After seeing the way Kai handled my mother and his friends, I've no doubt that whatever he's got in store for me, there is no escaping it. So I stay in the hallway, cringing as Alyssa's moans on the other side of the door grow in intensity. At least one of us is enjoying the evening. Well, two of the three of us. Everyone but me.

I'm still trying to pretend I'm somewhere else, when the door to Logan's room opens and Alyssa steps out, readjusting her clothes as she walks. There is a self-satisfied look on her face, and the kind of glow I’ve heard people get after good sex but have never experienced myself. My body’s personal sexual continuum ranges from boring to painful. At least Collin doesn’t drag it out.

"You aren't his type.”

It takes me a moment to realize Alyssa is talking to me. She is a combat cadet, all tall, and lean, and graceful. Perky lips. Legs that go forever.

"Well aware," I tell her.

She surveys me up and down, her gaze lingering on the scar on my face before eye-measuring my breasts and waistline. Her tone softens into something conciliatory.

"Don't get me wrong, you could put some work in. Slim down some, get a bit more tone on the muscles. Maybe hold your spine straighter. There is no help for your height of course, but heels can do wonders. And that...'' she gestures to her face, where perfect skin is framed by perfect hair in opposition to my scar. "Well, I don’t think even makeup will help, so better try a different route entirely. Perhaps a strategic hair do. Or a mask? Something cute and pretty.”

"Oh for gods’ sake,” I put my hand out to stop her. “I’m here on orders. Literally. I have zero desire to fuck Logan."

She scoffs. "That's what every girl in the entire year says. And yet everyone dreams of doing exactly that. Personally, I don’t see the point of the I don’t even want him game.” She drops her voice conspiratorially. “The rumor is true by the way.”

“What rumor?” I know I shouldn’t take the bait, but I do anyway .

“That you’ve not climaxed, until he’s made you climax.”

I stick a second palm out to join the first. The embarrassed heat coming off me is probably enough to power a small village. “I really don't want to know about his climaxes. Or your climaxes. Or anyone else's climaxes. Really. In fact, the only thing I enjoy less than hearing about them, is being forced to listen to them happening live.”

She gives me a pitiful look, like I’m lying to myself.

I switch tacks, though I’m not sure why I’m bothering. “Actually, I'm already with someone. So fuck Logan all you like. Twice a day. Three times a night. I'll be cheering for you. Not in person though. I really don't want to be supportive of any of this in person ever again."

She frowns, her pretty face turning pensive before she snaps her fingers. "Wait. I’m sorry, who you are just clicked into place for me now. You are one of Collin Chambers’s girls, aren't you?"

One of them? I don't like the implication, but I also suspect that Alyssa is trying to get under my skin. Instead of giving her the satisfaction, I plaster on a big smile and reach for the door handle. “Exactly right. So see, not your competition at all."

"Oh sweetheart, you were never my competition." Her voice drips with pity as she saunters off and I wonder what living in her head must be like.

I take a deep breath, remind myself that the world is full of Alyssas, and push open the door to Logan's room—remembering, at the last moment, the danger of that particular move. Too late now.

I shut my eyes quickly, lest he has Alyssa number two bent over another piece of furniture.

“All safe now,” Logan says dryly.

I pull the door closed. “Just to clarify, that means your cock is inside your pants, correct?”

“For the moment.”

Asshole. I open my eyes to find Logan sitting atop his desk, the same one that Alyssa had been recently bent over. His britches are thankfully in place, even if his knees are sprawled wide apart. He tosses a dagger into the air, lets it spin, then catches it by the hilt. “So, you are the alchemist."

"And you are Kai's headache. Well, his other headache."

“Pleasure to meet you.” Logan makes an elaborate bow then slides off the table, coming closer to study me. He is tall like the azure twins, his shoulders easily clearing my head, but his eyes are a honey gold. His openly appreciative gaze traces my hips and chest. I get the sense that this is his version of being polite, since there is nothing there to actually appreciate, especially on Alyssa’s heels.

Then his gaze lands on my face and the good humor sizzles from his eyes like a doused flame.

It takes me a moment to realize that he is staring at my scars. So much for pretenses of polite behavior. His hand flickers at his side, as if he is about to reach forward but then doesn’t. "Where is that from?"

"The past." I touch the raised marks. It's been more than six years now, but I can still feel the terror of seeing the wolf’s maw come at me. The pain and blood that came next. Being told how fortunate I was that the animal had just punctured my flesh instead of ripping it from my bones altogether. How stupid I’d been to get close to begin with.

An unreadable expression runs over Logan's features—unreadable, yet it sucks all the joy and humor from the room. He isn't looking at me with admiring eyes anymore. Not at all. And even though I knew from the start it had been nothing but a flattery game, for some reason it still stings.

I clear my throat. "So, according to Grayson, you are to help me pass my fitness test and I'm?—"

"That won't be happening."

"Which part exactly? Because I'm right with you about the fitness test. Math on the other hand, that we can do."

Logan flips his dagger again then throws the damn thing into the wall, so close to my left ear that I feel the wind as it rushes by. "No part is happening. The part of you and me doing anything together. That's the part that's not happening."

"But Grayson?—"

"I'll deal with Grayson." He walks past me and opens the door, clearly invi ting me to leave. The turnabout is so swift that my wits whiplash and I speak before considering the wisdom of doing so.

"What the fuck just happened?” I ask.

“I opened the door. The next step is you going through it. Which part confuses you?” There is no laughter in his voice, no easy grace in his broad shoulders. Frankly, he was more congenial when he had his cock inside Alyssa.

I touch my scar, which seems to have been the catalyst for the turnabout and try to fool myself into insisting that I don't care. That if Logan’s decision point hinges on whether I look Alyssa-perfect, that’s commentary on him more than me. I know all the right things to say to myself. I even know that they are probably true. But the reminder that I'm damaged goods and will be forever still crushes my chest. Because that part is also true.

I walk out of Logan’s room, managing to hold my head up high as I pass him. Small victory.

Exiting the combat cadets’ barracks, I scramble for something to keep myself occupied and my mind off what just happened. I check the time. The one good thing that came from Logan throwing me out early is that I should be able to catch Collin while he is changing to look presentable for formation. We won’t have much time, but I long to feel his arms around me. Long for reassurance that the people who truly care for me don't give a damn about scars.

Despite the pressing of time, I make a quick detour to the kitchen and swipe a couple of scones out from beneath the nose of a plump cook who kindly pretends not to notice. Loot in hand, I dash for the enchanters’ barracks.

"Orange cranberry for the win,” I say, pushing the door open with my shoulder. "Because we are celebrating?—"

My voice dies as Collin scrambles off of the bed, pulling the bedspread around his hips. The combat cadet remaining amidst the sheets relaxes against the backboard, not even trying to hide her nakedness.