Софи Джордан - Firelight

I would never have described him as patient before. He was the kind of guy that took without asking because it was his birthright. The great draki prince. Like any other draki female, I’m supposed to fall at his feet in blissful subjugation. What could have changed him?

I prop a hand on my hip. “Patient? You? Really?”

He sighs and steps closer. I move, back up until I can go no farther, the hard alley wall at my back.

“I’m not going to deny that I hope for something more between us, Jacinda. Something real and lasting.” He must see something on my face, for he quickly stresses, “Hope.

Never force.”

“And if I don’t want that? Ever?”

He presses his lips into a firm line, like he’s rolling the taste of that around in his mouth.

And not liking it.

“Then I would respect your wishes.” He spits the words out, like it hurts to keep them inside. His expression of distaste is almost laughable. The notion that I wouldn’t ever bond with him, mate, and produce a slew of little fire-breathers doesn’t sit well. Whether he sees it or not, he already looks at things like an alpha. King of the pride, looking out for the future of our race. At the expense of any one soul. He claimed he was here for himself. Only he doesn’t realize that the pride is part of him. He can never separate the needs and wants of the pride from his own. Therein, lies the danger.

“I need your word. Your promise. You won’t interfere while I’m here, you won’t force me to go back.” Because if he says this, then I’ll believe him. He’s many things to me, but he’s never been a liar.

His gaze locks hard on mine. “I promise.”

“Okay,” I finally agree, moving past him. “I’ll trust you.” There’s something in his eyes, his face, that makes me believe him. And really, how much of a choice do I have?

“You should,” he murmurs. “You can always trust me.”

Stepping from the alley, I spot Mom and Tamra leaving Chubby’s. A quick glance over my shoulder reveals Cassian gone. A sudden breeze casts my gaze up, to the dark shadow on the air, twisting higher, vanishing into the black night as quickly as fading mist. Only his voice lingers, whispering through me. You can always trust me.

I hope he’s right.

I jerk as an unexpected bell rings shortly after fifth period begins. Confused, I look around as the entire class vaults from their desks, leaving their belongings behind.

“What’s going on?” I ask a girl next to me.

She rolls her eyes. “Where’ve you been? Haven’t you heard the announcements? Today?

All week?”

I shake my head. I’m aware of the principal’s voice ringing out over the intercom every morning with school news, but even now, one month in, it’s not something I pay close attention to.

One month in. I think like a prisoner. An inmate counting down time served.

The memory of Cassian washes over me. I’ve hardly slept a wink with the image of him as he was in that alley. It’s tempting to think he might be close, nearby, ready to take me home should it all become too much. More than I can bear. It feels good to have an exit strategy.

“We have a pep rally,” the girl explains.

“Oh.” I stare down at my desk, wondering if I could stay in the room.

“Attendance is mandatory,” she snaps.

“Oh,” I repeat.

She shoots me a disgusted look. “A little school spirit wouldn’t hurt. Our baseball team made the playoffs.”

I nod, as if I know this. And care that it’s a big deal. Already I’m thinking ahead. Bracing myself for the pep rally. Hopefully it will be outdoors.

My skin shivers at the thought of being stuck indoors, crammed into one space with more than six hundred students. It can’t happen. I couldn’t handle that. PE inside the gym with sixty students has been bad enough. Standing, I follow the students pouring into the halls.

Nothing ever goes my way, I think as the entire school population descends into a gym designed for the smaller student body of seventy years ago.

The deep beating of a drum vibrates along the old wood floor and travels up my legs to the center of my chest, an unwelcome reverberating pulse there.

I clear the double doors and my stomach pitches, twists at the sight of overstimulated teenagers packed tightly into bleachers. The band is assembled at the far end of the gym.

Its members wear dark red uniforms with stiff-looking collars. They play their instruments, swaying as if they enjoy it. Their puffy red faces, shining with perspiration, tell another story.

Sweat trickles down my spine. It’s hotter in here than outside. My pores open wide, grasping, searching for cooler air, mist, and condensation. But there’s only the cloying scent of too many humans crammed together. Students shove past me.

“Move already,” one girl grunts as she bumps me.

I’m swept forward on a sea of bodies, deeper into the gym than I want to be. Turning, I strain, looking behind me for the door or something. Someone, anyone in the sweaty press of humans to cling to. Tamra. Catherine or Brendan. Even Nathan would be okay.

Someone to distract me and help me get through this.

Not Will though. I know better. He’s the wrong kind of distraction.

I lift my face, try to gulp clean air. Impossible. The gym is stale and stinks of sweating, unclean pores. I drag deeper, sucking breath into my shrinking lungs. I get a sniff of blood buried deep in the wood floor and I feel sick, wilted. Cassian’s voice rolls over me.

You can’t like it here. You can’t want to stay. You’re not bred for this misery.

My legs move numbly. Telling myself pep rallies can’t last long, I pick a seat. Squeeze into the first spot I find, as low as I can get on the bleachers.

Cheerleaders entertain the crowd, shaking their pom-poms and tossing their bodies in the air. Brooklyn’s out there. Those over-glossed lips curve wide as she shouts at the crowd.

And up front, dead center, as close as she can get to the action, sits Tamra, an expression of rapture on her face.

“Hey.” A girl with braces—green rubber bands stretching like ropes of slime between the metal—nudges me. “Are you a junior?”

I stare at her, at the menacing snap of her teeth as she spits out her words. Words that I can’t seem to register.

I’m in sensation overload. The band’s pounding drums beat like fists inside my head, determined to split my skull open from the inside.

I shake, jump as screams and shouts break out, even louder than the train wreck of a band.

Bewildered, I look around. From one set of double doors, a dozen guys rush out onto the court wearing red baseball jerseys. The crowd goes wild, surges up on every side of me like a hurling sea.

The principal’s voice lifts above it all—a strange, disembodied sound on the microphone.

Like God speaking down to the masses.

At a vicious tug on my sleeve, I look to my side. It’s the girl again. Slimy Braces. “Hey.

This is the junior section.”

I hear the words, but they don’t penetrate. I can’t understand.

“What are you? A fish?” she demands.

Oh. “Sophomore,” I reply.

She leans closer, thrusts her face into mine, and talks loudly, slowly. As if I’m mentally challenged. “You. Sit. Over. There.” She stabs the air with a finger, pointing over my shoulder.

Two girls beside her laugh. Exchange approving looks. Egged on, she shoves at my shoulder. “Go on. Get out of here.”

Miserable, I move to go. Not because of Slimy Braces specifically, but because of it all.

Because I’m here. Because I’ve lost everything. The sky, my pride…my life.

Because Mom doesn’t even care what she’s doing to me. Because Tamra is so happy.