Chapter 28 Tobias

I should've flown home.

It was the middle of the afternoon, and it wasn't exactly discrete to be shifting into an enormous dragon in the middle of suburbia—although, it would've been fun to see the expressions of Shea and her family from the window if I had.

Still, I should have. I could've turned invisible before taking off.

But I didn't, and the new Uber driver drove at least five miles under the speed limit the entire way back to Chicago.

I wanted to rip my hair out.

In fact, I diverted the destination to the end of the L line and opted to ride the subway the rest of the way to the Dome. Dusk was descending quickly, but no vampire would dare confront me now. Nothing would keep me from getting to Arya.

For the first time ever , I didn't need to be cautious with my feelings. I didn't need to hold back and prevent my heart from giving itself away. For the first time ever, I had hope that I'd get hers in return.

I continued to stare at my palm as the subway rushed back in the direction of the Dome. My hand looked the same—not that I expected it to look different—but I somehow felt different. Like I could hurl myself off the cliff I'd stood firmly on the edge of for eighteen years—fingers gripped around the guard rail—and actually allow myself to fall.

Part of me felt that I already had, but that was nearly impossible. Arya still had feelings for me the last time I saw her, so it couldn't have happened yet. Plus, as close as I was, truly falling in love with Arya might still take a bit of time. People didn't change overnight.

Either way, I was anxious to see her.

I was ready to tell her everything. I would tell her about my father's assignment when she first arrived at the Dome. That I'd been tasked with befriending her to find out if she was the siren from the prophecy, but that she truly had become my friend.

I'd tell her that my father wanted me to seduce her to get the information, but I'd grown real feelings for her.

I would tell her that my father then ordered me to cut ties with her, but I'd asked her to be my girlfriend instead. I hoped the latter would redeem me from all my former transgressions and lies at the beginning of our relationship.

I would tell her about the curse. That it prevented me from allowing myself to fall too deeply for her—because I was terrified. And that it had driven my behavior more than I'd like to admit. I hadn't always treated her the way I should. And I wasn't proud of it. I would apologize for all of it, lay my heart on the table for her to either butcher or keep.

And then...I would tell her that I'd gone to Shea, her trusted friend, who had finally lifted the curse.

Not just for me, but for my entire family.

I made a mental note to call Mom later, even if I needed to be realistic about the timing of my parent's situation. Lifting the curse wouldn't change Arthur's personality, but I knew he had a heart under all that pride and arrogance. He loved me and Tamara in his own way, and he had respect for Octavia. It just might take a little bit of time for the love part to happen.

As soon as I entered the vault door, I went in search of Arya. I held firm to the invisible tether that kept me bound to her and let it pull me to her. I could finally be the protector the imprint demanded of me. I could be everything she needed me to be. I could—

My thoughts and my body came to a halt at once as I came onto the lawn and turned to the crowd of students toward the left.

One of the greenhouses had been reduced to a pile of wreckage. Glass and structure scattered and smashed. Limp greens and dirt peppered the obvious destruction. It looked like an ursa had a tantrum.

Whatever happened, I was distracted from my linear thinking and walked up to Mr. Sharp, who embraced a clearly upset Mrs. Sharp.

"It was an ursa," said Shawn—a dragon who often sparred with me in defense. He stood gawking at the scene.

"Figured," I said. "Who was it?"

Shawn shrugged. "A new one, clearly."

I scoffed in agreement. Ursas could be volatile. It wasn't exactly noteworthy, just presented an issue for the teachers to prevent future property damage.

An irrational fear shot through my heart—could Arya have been close when it happened?

No, if Arya had been hurt, I'd have sensed it. I hated that she was always my first concern when faced with news of an accident, especially when the facts proved otherwise. It was maddening.

And the imprint wasn't leading me here. It was tugging me toward the southern end of the Dome, likely the Defense Room. I'd had enough of this distraction, so I left without a word and followed the tug.

When I'd gotten halfway across the lawn, I caught sight of the silky dark hair exiting the back door of the Defense Room.

Her name stuck in my throat, and my palms felt clammy as my pace stalled to stop. I was nervous to see her. Everything that had happened and everything I planned to say in the next few minutes had my stomach twisting into knots. So much had changed, and she had no idea about any of it.

Swallowing loudly, I clenched my fists, then took a deep breath. I had no idea how she would take my confessions, but I also planned to tell her that I was falling in love with her. I hoped that would soften the blow of everything else.

"Arya!" I finally called, the smile on my face genuine and big—and borderline giddy.

She stopped her stride toward the main building and stiffened. A jolt of trepidation shot through me, and I met her in a few quick strides.

Something's wrong.

When she turned to face me, the expression she wore was the last I ever wanted to see on her face. It was full of grief and fury, and I somehow knew it was there for me.

Her hand whipped across my cheek before I knew what happened, the smack echoing off the glass dome. Orange and purple flashes zinged my vision for a split second, but the resounding sting of my skin was nothing compared to the jab in my heart.

I recovered quickly but instinctively rubbed my cheek as tears rolled down either side of Arya's beautiful face.

The wrongness of this situation wedged itself between my ribs.

"I hate you!" she hissed, her lips trembling in their grimace.

Those three words struck me like a speeding freight train, the enormity of the situation slamming into me with earth-shattering force.

No. No, no, no.

That cliff I thought I'd been so firmly planted on? The one I thought would be difficult to jump from because I'd held onto the guardrail for too long? I was pretty sure the damned hope from Shea's pseudo-spell severed that handhold before blasting me right off the rock.

I was in love with Arya.

I'd finally fallen in love. I'd finally done the one thing I swore I'd never do. I finally felt everything my mother surely felt for my father.

And Arya hated me.

The curse wasn't broken. My foolishness triggered it instead.

The spell hadn't worked.

"Don't look so surprised," she snarled through her tears. "I know."

Another jolt of deepest pain shredded through my chest as I tried to comprehend her words.

"Ca–can we talk?" I pleaded in a weak and desperate tone I had never heard from myself.

She jerked away when I reached for her arm. I hadn't even realized that I'd reached out to touch her. The feelings had taken such a hold that I no longer had complete control of my actions. I was merely a puppet for my chaotic and crumbling emotions.

"What's the point?" she snapped, throwing her arms into the air. "Your father explained it all."

I frowned in destitute confusion. "My father?"

"Arthur?" She folded her arms across her chest, tears still on her cheeks, although she'd regained some composure. "Lord Dracul? The General? He told me everything."

I staggered back a step, then side-stepped to lean against the side of the building. The concrete was cool through the back of my shirt, offering me a grounding effect.

This was really happening.

She stalked toward me like a lioness cornering a wounded lamb. "He ordered you to become my friend when I came to the school."

I nodded once. I'd planned to tell her all of this. There was no point denying it. "That's true."

Her eyes widened for a split second, but her surprise was immediately replaced by the former fury.

"It's true," she whispered. "That you were only pretending to be my friend in order to find out if I was ‘ the siren. '" She used air quotes and a sarcastic tone for the last phrase.

"That was how it started, but that's not how it continued," I defended.

"Oh, and how did it continue?" she asked in a mocking tone, cocking her head to one side. "You decided to stick around and see how many times you could fuck me?"

"No, it wasn't like that—" I began, but she cut me off.

"You know, one thing I don't understand is why you asked me to be your girlfriend after your asshole dad told you to break it off with me. Why continue this fucking game if you didn't have to? Was I just that pathetic and easy?"

"No!" I shouted, carried away by my desperation to get her to hear me over her own tirade. "You don't understand. This thing between us may have started out as an assignment, but I grew to really care about you, to lo—"

"Don't you dare say the word," she snapped, stomping forward and jabbing her index finger into my chest. "You're a selfish, entitled manipulator. You're no better than your dictator of a father. I can't trust a fucking word that comes out of either of your mouths."

"Arya, please." I reached for her hand.

Again, she jerked it away.

"Stay the fuck away from me, or you'll end up in worse shape than that goddamn greenhouse," she warned, pointing a threatening finger at me.

I blanched at her, both at her declaration and her strange comment about the greenhouse. She needed to know this one last thing.

"I can't do that," I said thickly. "I've imprinted on you. I know you must feel it, too. If I don't stay close to you…"

The words died on my tongue. I couldn't finish the sentence. It seemed like another manipulation, even if it was devastatingly true.

"Oh, that is rich!" she shouted. "Now your story is that you imprinted on me? You just don't fucking give up, do you? Well, you know what? I actually hope it's true. Because I can't think of a more perfect revenge than for you to actually die from my rejection."

Then she turned on a heel and stomped away.

I couldn't go after her. The pure hatred and anger in her last statement stole every ounce of will and hope from me.

She really did hate me. It wasn't just disinterest like what my father felt for my mother. She wanted me to die.

As she disappeared into the main building, I slid my back against the wall behind me until I slumped onto the ground.

Then, for the first time since I was a child, before my father had beaten the act out of me, I buried my face in my hands and cried.