18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Wilder

I'll be honest, I was almost not expecting Bronwyn to answer her door when I knocked. But there she is, in all her glaring brilliance. To top it all off, she's actually wearing an elegant gown, instead of buried in her bookish robes. It's a deep blue, naturally since that color represents magic most magickers refuse to wear anything other than the colors of blue and purple to show their status. But unlike her robes this one clings to her curves. It hangs off her shoulders leaving her neck and collar bone exposed.

She has a very nice collar bone, it's so elegant. Refined is perhaps a better word for it.

I blink twice when I realize that I'm staring and force my gaze up.

She raises a single brow. Her typically unruly curls are pinned back revealing strong yet slender features that are usually hidden behind them. Her brows, while thick, perfectly frame her eyes, drawing attention to their green depths.

Like a pool covered in moss that is catching the sunlight.

"Well? Do I live up to your standards, master vampire?" she asks, her voice dripping with contempt. "I'd hate to embarrass you by your association to me through our fake relationship."

Standards? Oh, she surpassed them. I'm suddenly worried that she will make me look drab in comparison tonight.

She cleans up well… for a merchant's daughter.

"You look passable," I admit at last, the words struggling to form past the lump in my throat.

Ravishing is a bit of a better word for it, but I can't have her getting too big of a head.

The glare is back as Bronwyn slips out of her room. Before she closes it, I happen to catch a glance inside. Like myself, she has one of the best, and most expensive, rooms in the academy set aside for her own personal uses.

While most have to share a common dorm, those of us with money are capable of pursuing our magical interests in privacy with our own runed circle for safe spellcasting without any destructive effects spreading. It's a large yet cozy space, but I notice that Bronwyn's room is bare. None of her belongings are strewn through it as if she never bothered to unpack.

There isn't even a photo on the mantel or a comb on her bedstand.

Or perhaps because she is keeping everything in one place for a hasty exit. Her room is that of a person who doesn't intend to stay long enough to unpack.

Such a thought should make me feel happy. I won't have to worry about keeping her safe from Morozov's and my father's plans if she just picks up and leaves.

And yet, instead, I am filled with an overwhelming sense of panic at the thought of never seeing her again.

I clear my throat as I try my best to compartmentalize those feelings just as I do with anything else I'd rather not be feeling.

I hold my arm out to Bronwyn, a gesture that she completely ignores.

"So, what exactly should I expect from this?" she asks stiffly as she starts down the hall. "I'm bringing my spellbook just to be safe. I hope you know that I intend to use it if Morozov makes a move against me, no matter how important he is to you and your daddy's plans."

"I hope you know that I would never lead you into danger." As worried as I am about the reason Morozov invited us to this dinner, if I actually thought he would try to kill her I wouldn't be bringing her. I was simply trying to scare her back in the library, I had thought that maybe if she's a little frightened she won't do anything stupid in front of the professor. But now the idea of her even being remotely afraid is too much for me. I want to pull her close and bury my hand in those tumultuous curls of her and assure her that she will always be safe.

It would be a blatant lie, I'm sure, I couldn't even keep myself safe from my father's plans, but I don't intend to fail again. I will protect Bronwyn, even if I couldn't do the same for myself.

"Do I know that?" she asks, her shoulders going stiff.

I reach out, grabbing her arm and halting her progress. She turns toward me, opening her mouth but I don't give her the chance to get out a sharp retort. "I hope so."

"Because you have given me so many reasons to trust you," she says, finally getting her retort out.

"I gave you my word."

"Something worth its weight in gold, I'm sure." Her tone drips with sarcasm. She pulls her arm out of my hold, looking like she is going to start going, but I put my arm against the wall blocking her path and successfully trapping her between it and me.

I don't care what she thinks of me, but she must know that I won't let anything happen to her. I want her to know that no matter what, she's safe around me.

She clenches her jaw but finally meets my gaze. I swallow hard as I hastily explain what I should have back in the library. "This whole dinner is because Morozov feels off-balance. He wants to exert control over me by forcing you to come. All we have to do is show up, play submissive, and let him have his power trip. It isn't about you at all, it's about controlling me."

"And whose idea was it to involve me by making him think he could control you through me?" she asks arching one of her perfect brows. "It was such a ridiculous notion that it's no wonder Morozov has a hard time accepting it."

"It's not so far-fetched as you make it out to be," I whisper, my eyes dropping to her lips.

She rolls her eyes. "Who are you trying to fool here, Wilder? We're alone."

I'm not sure what possesses me, the spirit of a demigod? But I find myself saying, "Good," and leaning forward. For the second time in my life, I kiss Bronwyn the Eel.

I'll be honest, I think the second time is more surprising than the first.

Last time, I kissed Bronwyn to save her life. This time? Well, this time I have no good reason. Honestly, I just wanted to, and her lips were right there and were so kissable.

I'm so surprised that when Bronwyn shoves me away, I am caught off guard and stumble back. Bumping the wall across the hall.

"What the jetting Skyhold was that?" she screeches, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

I reach up, rubbing the back of my neck. Indeed, what was that?

"I, uh, that was just practice," I say, trying my hardest to school my face. I don't know what I'm currently feeling right now, but I don't want it playing across my face. Bronwyn is too clever; she would figure it out before I even have a chance to know myself.

Bronwyn glares up at me, her eyes sparking. She raises a finger, pointing it in my face. "We may be in a fake relationship, but this is crossing a line, Zubkov. You keep your kisses for show and only as a last resort. No more kissing in private."

I feel my eyebrows shoot up. No more kissing in private? Well, that's not so bad. It just means that I have to kiss her in public.