Page 44 of Crush
“Or what? Huh?” For one painful second, a spurt of fire sparks through the coal. “What are you going to make me do now? You’re all goddamned sick. This is a school for psychopaths, not future leaders.” She leans closer, her upper lip peeling from her teeth and showcasing an expression of such disgust, I’m almost toppled by it. “You should be ashamed to call yourself what you are. A Noble.”
I grab her upper arm through her blazer, squeezing it in warning. “Don’t you dare utter that name in public.”
“Why did you do it to her? Why did you mess with Aurora like that?”
My hold temporarily goes slack. “Why the fuck do you care? You two hate each other. I’d think you’d be glad.”
“You had no right to interfere. I was handling her.” For one confusing second, Ember’s eyes sheen over with tears. “You didn’t have to—I could’ve withstood it. If you hadn’t humiliated her, then she wouldn’t have—I wouldn’t have—”
“Ember.” I hold the last shreds of her with a low, soothing voice. “Breathe.”
I study her profile as if it can communicate to me what’s going on with her. Who hurt her. Because someone has, and clearly, I must kill them before the start of third period.
“No.” Ember’s voice cracks on the word. “You don’t understand. If it weren’t for you and your stupid power trip, if it weren’t for your fucking Society with your fucking rules and your outdated, cruel punishments, I wouldn’t be going through—”
“Everything okay here?”
My nostrils flare with a deep, cleansing breath at the intrusion. “Fuck off, Aiden.”
“Nah, I don’t think so.” Zeke leans into the front of Ember’s and my desk. His gaze swoops down to Ember’s arm, then back. “Get your hands off her.”
“We’re doing just fine here.” I fight like hell to keep my voice level.
“Oh, yeah? Let’s have Ember tell me that.”
My brows are concrete blocks above my vision, but I move under the weight to include Ember in our pissing contest. “Tell him you’re just fine, little pretty.”
She and I always have our fights, rife with desire to tear each other’s clothes off. This is no different even though it feels … otherwise. I don’t want to think on that, not with Zeke as our witness. He can kindly fuck off, and I can get back to what’s important: figuring out what’s wrong with Ember because it sure as fuck isn’t about a few nights ago when she writhed and squirted inside my mouth, and I tasted every flavor of her moans.
Unless…
How quick was she to figure out I stole the camera recording? I’ve always assumed she’s limited herself in Weatherby Manor, uninterested in Malcolm’s mausoleum of grief. Perhaps that’s becoming my downfall.
“Ember,” I say again. “Tell Zeke to fuck off so we can talk.”
Ember’s throat moves with a hard swallow. She glances up at me, anguish rimming her gaze. It’s enough to cinch my gut. I scan the room, instinctively hunting for the best corner to protect her in, roaring and tearing at anyone who dares to come near her.
How unlike me. I angle away, studying her.
Ember takes the maneuver the wrong way. Her forehead creases with doubt. “I want you to leave.”
My grip on her arm tightens. “You don’t mean that. What have I done?”
“Done?” she scoffs. “What have you done?” She jerks in my hold, attempting to shake me off. Reluctantly, I release her. She continues, “You’re nothing but a venomous black smear over my life, Thorne Briar. Get. Away. From. Me.”
“You heard the lady,” Zeke dares to say.
Slowly, I raise my eyes to him. It doesn’t help that he’s standing and I’m sitting. But that can be easily rectified.
I palm the table and start to rise—
“Professor Lowell?” Ember’s voice comes out tremulous.
The professor glances up from his mess of a paper stack. “Yes, Miss Beckett?”
“I’d like to switch seats today. Thorne’s making me uncomfortable.”
Lowell blinks owlishly through his glasses. Ember’s said the one thing guaranteed to make a male professor sputter with confused accommodation. “Oh, my. Yes, dear. Of course. We’ll, uh—we’ll discuss this with the headmistress later, but for now, you can…”