Bitter Brambles (The Ivy Institute #2)

Chapter 11

brIAR

I try to shift and realize my ass is killing me. I’ve slept on enough hard floors to know better than to fall asleep sitting up. I groan and flex my fingers, only to find them still tangled in thick hair.

Memories of the time I spent with the wolf before succumbing to sleep filter through my mind. I tip my chin down and promptly scream when I see a male with his head in my lap. Familiar eyes snap open, looking for a threat as he jumps up to crouch in front of me in a protective stance.

“Sunny?” I ask when no other explanation comes to mind. He looks back over his shoulder, and it’s a good thing I’m already on the ground, because that’s exactly where I would have ended up after getting a good look at him. My heart is thundering so hard in my chest, I’m certain he can hear it if not see it. A bone-deep knowledge hits me hard and fast, and I can’t even speak when I open my mouth.

“My name is Moros, but you can call me Sunny.” His rich voice melts over me like honey dripping off a biscuit. I snap my mouth closed and search for the nerve to say something back, but just looking at him is overloading my senses.

Finally realizing there isn’t someone about to attack, he turns to face me. Without permission, my eyes run up and down his body, taking in every inch of him while trying to connect him with the beast from earlier. He tips his chin down a little, and I get a flash of the wolf doing the same. “You’re a shifter?” My tone is soft and filled with awe, but it isn’t just because he’s a wolf, it’s because he’s so much more to me.

Guilt eats into the bubble of joy giving me butterflies. Ziv isn’t going to be happy. Who cares? Ziv left you.

He crouches and examines my face as if he can read my every thought. I look down, worried that might be the case. “Don’t be bashful now, you already claimed me. I think the exact words were, ‘I’m going to keep you,’ right?” He pretends he has to think back on my promise.

I flush at the thought. “I thought you were a wolf,” I whisper.

“I am,” he agrees just as softly. “I’m pretty sure there was also an offer to provide food and a bed.” He’s grinning at me like he finds this funny. His smile does strange things to my insides, and the devilish charm only makes it worse. Damn it, I’m in trouble.

“I have a mate—two,” I blurt, because I know what this connection between us is. There’s no way I couldn’t after Ziv and Kage.

His smile drops, and his eyes narrow into slits. “Two? Where are they?”

“I don’t know.”

He tilts his head as if he doesn’t believe me.

“If I had to guess, I would say back at the Ivy.”

“That’s where you came from?” He strokes a finger down my arm, and goosebumps follow in his wake. He smirks after seeing my reaction. It doesn’t seem like my confession is too off-putting.

“Yes.”

“They let you leave?” he questions with an air of suspicion.

“I don’t think they had a choice.”

His sunny yellow eyes meet mine when he asks, “Why haven’t they come for you?”

I flinch. I’ve wondered the same things too many times. My shrug must be enough of an answer, because he holds my hand and rises, pulling me up off the floor at the same time.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask when he tugs me down the hall.

“To my room.”

“You have a room?”

“We have a room,” he amends.

“Because I’m your…” I can’t bring myself to say it out loud, even though I know it’s the truth.

“Mine. Because you are mine.” He doesn’t have any problem saying what he thinks.

“What about?—”

“They aren’t here. I am,” he interrupts.

“The rules. I thought you had to earn everything at Frostburn. How can I stay in your room?” I ask, finishing my original question.

He looks over at me, his citrine eyes meeting mine while he maintains a quick pace, as if he’s in a hurry. The name Sunny shouldn’t still fit this creature, but somehow, it does. His hair is an ashy white blond, lacking the darker hues that were present at the base of his grayish fur. He’s leaner than Kage, though comparing them probably isn’t the smartest thing to do. “You can stay with me because there’s about to be a vacancy,” he states as his eyes slip down to my mouth.

“About to be?”

“Yeah, right after I kill my roommate.”

I freeze, and he does as well when he realizes I stopped. “I don’t need you to kill your roommate.”

“You want to do it yourself?”

“No,” I scoff, shaking my head. “I earned a bunk in the nest. I don’t need to kill someone for a bed.”

He faces me then releases my hand to reach up and cradle my cheeks. “I have no fucking clue what your other mates are like, but I don’t plan on having you on another floor, let alone a whole fucking different institute. You will be with me, and if I need to kill a few people to make that happen, then so be it.” He shrugs with indifference.

“I think that might get you in trouble.”

He smiles, revealing sharp white teeth, before he leans forward slowly, giving me ample time to stop him from what he’s about to do, but I don’t. Just as his lips brush over mine, he whispers, “I love trouble.”

A riot of feelings overloads my system. Guilt, relief, fear, happiness, and desire rush through me, making me feel dizzy. My gut tightens with anticipation to the point of pain. I know this euphoric feeling—it’s too familiar and reminds me of everything I lost. As happy as I am to no longer be alone, I can’t help but wonder how long this will last. When will he decide I’m not worth the hassle? No one really loves trouble. It’s exhausting.

There’s a part of me that just wants to ignore all the doubts and pretend my concerns aren’t important, but I’m too afraid.

He pulls back after a lifetime passes in my head, but only a heartbeat elapses in real time, and I know when his warm breath fans over my lips that I tainted our first, and possibly our only, kiss.

Regret makes it impossible to meet his eyes, but I can’t force myself to move away from him. Even now, all I want to do is to bask in his heat and feel protected, even if I know it’s a lie.

When his hands leave my face, an overwhelming sense of loss has me sucking in a breath as I prepare to apologize, but he stops me with a single finger pressed against my parted lips.

MOROS

Briar’s pain is raw, and it’s the first thing I feel when our lips connect, but not the only thing, thank fuck. There’s desire and need almost as strong as my own under all the guilt and doubt weighing on her. I pull back, knowing I’m pushing her too fast. The fact that she has other mates, mates who aren’t here, is shocking. I don’t question if she’s telling the truth, but I do question if there’s more to the story she’s leaving out.

When her eyes drop to the ground as if she’s afraid to look at me, I make her my first vow. “You will never have to wonder if I had a choice. If I’m not with you, it’s because there is something keeping me from you, and I promise I will do everything in my power to kill whatever is in the way until I’m by your side again.”

Her eyes flash up to mine. The way she’s looking at me makes me want to kiss her again and reassure her that my words are true, but a single kiss isn’t enough to fix this. I’m not sure what can.

My instincts are telling me to take her home to my pack, where I can assure her safety, but I can’t do that. If I leave Frostburn, it would be seen as an act of betrayal in the pack’s eyes, proof that I couldn’t handle the Undertaking, which means I don’t have a choice but to stay here or risk losing my pack. That realization forces me to consider that her other mates may not have a choice either. I don’t want to think about the other option—they may already be dead. She would know that, but would she face it? I’m not sure.

There’s one thing I’m certain of though—Briar’s heart is broken.

Broken is not even the right word, because pieces are missing, and I don’t want her pushing me away because of it. If she rejects me or refuses my bond, it might not kill me, but I might as well be dead.

“That’s sweet of you to say, but you don’t even know me. I don’t expect you to make me any promises.” Her easy dismissal makes me wonder just how many times she’s been let down, because it sure as shit seems like she’s trying to absolve me of any responsibility before I ever have the chance to disappoint her. I know self-preservation when I hear it.

“I know you’re my mate, and that might not mean a lot to you right now, but it will. I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Hell, I don’t make promises period, but to you I will. I will always come for you.”

“Okay,” she agrees too easily. I know without a doubt I’m going to have to prove myself to her, but I’m used to doing shit the hard way. If it takes a little time for me and my wolf to convince her that her heart and soul are safe with us, so be it.

“I know you can’t believe me right now, and you have your reasons, but I will show you loyalty, Briar, even if they didn’t.”

“They were loyal,” she defends quickly, as if her instinct demands it, but then her expression changes into a frown as if her own denial is just now registering.

“I can’t believe I’m even about to say this out loud, but maybe they still are. Just because they haven’t found you yet doesn’t mean they aren’t looking, or that there isn’t something stopping them from getting to you.” I don’t want to give her false hope, but it’s really the only option that makes sense. Mates are cherished not only by shifters, but by all. I have to imagine there is something at play here she may not understand.

Briar searches my eyes for a long moment then replies, “Maybe.” Her response lacks conviction, but the outright dismissal and denial is absent. I think it’s the best I can hope for, especially since I don’t want to vouch for them when I have no fucking clue what is really going on.

“Alright, now let’s talk about murder.” I feel a little joy when her bright eyes widen in shock.

“I’m pretty sure being accused of murder is what started this whole mess—well, that and my ability, but I would still like to avoid it if possible.”

“Someone accused you of murder?” This sounds like a story I want to hear. I slide my hand down her arm and interlace our fingers to lead her down the hall. I may not get to claim her yet, but not touching her would be torture.

“Syrinx, she’s the headmistress at the Ivy,” she says, though this is something I already knew. Foley is obsessed with the banshee. If I didn’t know he hated her, I would think he loved her. “I’m not even sure who was killed or what happened, only that she thought I had something to do with it.”

“I’m gathering you didn’t.”

She follows me up the stairs and down the hall without question, still rambling on about being interrogated. Frostburn has its own truth detectors. I’ve never been questioned by any of them, but I imagine it’s intrusive at the very least. I wouldn’t want someone poking around in my head. The pack uses different methods to know if someone is telling the truth, and not everyone survives it.

Reining my thoughts in, I return my focus to her comment. It’s curious that she mentioned her ability being part of the cause of this, and by this , I’m assuming she means being sent here. From what I saw in the field, I can’t believe she was forced to leave the Ivy because she isn’t strong enough to be there, so what else could it be?

“What does your ability have to do with this ?” I put emphasis on the word she used then realize we’re quickly approaching the elite common area. We won’t have the luxury of privacy again until we’re tucked into our room after I get rid of Jeh.

“I—”

“Hold that thought,” I interrupt before sauntering through the shared space of the elites. There are only a few others out of their rooms since it’s so late—or early. I thought she might sleep in the hall all night, and I didn’t have the heart to wake her, especially not when she had her fingers locked around my hair as if she was afraid I was going to disappear.

The moment Briar realizes we’re no longer alone, her demeanor shifts. The sweet girl who invited my wolf to eat her stiffens from her head down to her boots, seeming more alert. My beast notices, prowling at the edges of my awareness, ready to react to the perceived threat she’s responding to, but also aware of the fact that she let her guard down with us.

I glance down, watching the way the light rolls down her silky dark hair as we move deeper into the dorm. Her gaze leaps to mine in question, and my heart skips a beat. Gods, how can she rearrange my insides with a look?

Her little fingers tighten around my hand in a show of silent support. A rumble eases from my chest as my mating musk perfumes the air around us. I can’t help my body’s reaction to her. It would be like telling my heart not to pump or my lungs to stop working.

Briar’s pupils dilate, and she tips her head back to scent the air. The way her body softens and her eyelids lower when she drops her chin nearly sends me into a fucking spiral of lust. Not only do I get to witness her response to me, but thanks to my beast, I can also smell the desire rolling off her.

“Damn,” a deep voice crones, reminding me I’m not the only one with strong senses. At least half the residents on this floor are getting a lesson in shifter bonding. It’s not exactly a secret, but it’s not something we advertise either. Even knowing that, I can’t dampen my response to her. Merely the thought of toning it down pisses off my beast. With sharp clarity, he communicates, Mine, and I understand the intent behind it. Whether we can claim Briar or not right now, he wants everyone to know she belongs to us, and if covering her in our scent does that, then hell yes, I’m down.

I look at the small crowd of onlookers, and I know it isn’t just my eyes they see staring back at them, but also those of my wolf, daring them to whisper another word. Most of the gazes drop the moment they collide with mine, recognizing the power I have, but a few linger longer than my beast and I would normally tolerate. I take note of each face in case they cause a problem later. Some of them I’ve considered allies, while others I wouldn’t consider strong or reliable enough to call soldiers. It just proves their stupidity. There is a reason Foley, the headmaster, panders to me, and it isn’t because of my last name—it’s because I am the strongest at Frostburn, and he knows it.

Before I can reach my room, Jeh pulls the door open. Confusion colors his features for a brief moment, pinching his expression, until his watchful gaze lowers to my hand, which is still tangled with Briar’s. The color bleeds from the other shifter’s face, turning him as ashen as the snow blanketing the rocks outside.

“You’ll need to find another bed,” is all I say as we breeze past the stunned shifter to our room, but behind me, I hear a distinct curse come from Lana. She knows she’s the weakest of the elite, which means she may be getting demoted back to the nest.

The door shuts behind us with a definite snap. I don’t give a fuck who sleeps in what bed as long as Briar is in mine.