Page 13 of Crush

“Thank you for the compliment.” For the first time, my lips curve up. “But you don’t seem to understand how influential the Nobles and Virtues are. Our torture doesn’t stop in high school. Or college, or the workforce, or retirement. Just look at Malcolm Weatherby.”

Ember shudders under my hand.

“That’s right, little pretty.” I tilt my face closer. “You’re well and truly mine, so you might as well accept my domination and scurry up that rock like all the other impressionable girls over there.”

Ember stares past me, likely cataloging how the other initiates are being rounded up and herded to the lookout by Aurora. I don’t follow her gaze. Instead, I watch her, catalog her, and what kinds of thoughts could be whirring through that head of hers.

“All right,” she says at last. “I’ll do it.”

I arch a brow. How unexpected.

“On one condition.”

“You’re in no position to be negotiating terms, little pretty.”

“This one’s easy, and if you do it, I’ll complete these dares and be a good girl.”

I step back. “No one ever said I wanted you to be good. But go on.”

Ember takes a deep breath. “If you ensure Jaxon doesn’t automatically get the open orchestra seat and that the person who does receive it will earn it on merit alone, then I’ll go with Aurora.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“You heard me.” Ember crosses her arms against her chest. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

“What am I missing here? Is your next dream to be part of the New York Philharmonic?”

“Not me.” Ember doesn’t expand. “So, do we have a deal?”

“I don’t make deals.” I lower my chin, assessing her, unable to take my eyes off such a stubborn, wet kitten. “But I’m curious enough to allow you those terms. So long as you hold up your end.”

“I will.” She nods. Glances past me again. Swallows. Repeats, “I will.”

“All right then.” I sweep out my arm. “After you.”

She starts treading through the sand at the same time a scream rings out and a speck of a figure falls from the lookout and lands with a quiet splash.

It shouldn’t be physically possible, but Ember turns even paler.

“Should be fun,” I quip beside her, then lean forward, darting out my tongue and catching the hesitation on her lips.

She gasps. Flinches. Then grips the cowl of my cloak like I’m about to save her from certain ruin.

I’m the ruiner, little pretty. Never the fixer.

“Jump far,” I say, brushing my nose against hers before retreating. “Avoid the rocks down below. They’re known to break bones. Gives the sharks better access to your flesh.”

Smiling, I step into the shadows, overly eager to watch Ember fall.

6

Ember

There are no fucking sharks.

The water’s too cold, for one, and they only drift toward the shore to eat during dawn and dusk, not midnight.

I’m all too ready to fling those facts at Thorne, but he was too quick to disappear, and I doubt any marine life education would affect my current fate.