Goody Magic Academy, Year Three

Chapter 13

Chapter

Thirteen

J axon’s fingers intertwined with mine as we followed the headmaster and Twyla. His touch sent warmth running through me. I found myself acutely aware of every point of contact between us. My skin still tingled where he had kissed me, his rugged beard scratching my hot skin even through my bra where he had worshipped my nipple. I felt like he was marking me as his. Did I really belong to him, as he said? Deep down in my soul I wanted desperately for it to be true.

The memory of his body so close to mine when we were lying in the grass earlier, the warmth of his breath on my neck, made my cheeks flush. But I pushed the thoughts away, acutely aware of the tension radiating from the headmaster’s and Twyla’s stiff shoulders as they marched up to the front porch. It felt like Jaxon and I were walking toward a firing squad.

Everyone just assumed Jaxon was a traitor, a snake waiting to strike at the first opportunity. But when I looked into his eyes, I saw something different. Something that made my heart race and my breath catch in my throat. “You okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear. His voice was low and husky, sending a shiver down my spine.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. As we entered the headmaster’s home, the heat from Jaxon’s body enveloped me, and I found myself leaning into him almost instinctively.

I had to believe that he would do everything he could to protect me at Ravenwood Estate. The alternative was unthinkable. My fingers tightened around his, and he squeezed back, silently reassuring.

As we entered the dimly lit foyer, Jaxon’s hand slipped from mine, and I immediately felt its absence. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I saw a flicker of something—longing? fear?—in his gaze before his mask of cool detachment slipped back into place.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I just hoped Dimitri Dragan hadn’t changed his stripes, or we’d all end up shit creek without a paddle. At least with Jaxon by my side, I felt a glimmer of hope. And something else, something dangerous and thrilling, that I wasn’t quite ready to name.

My stomach churned. I just prayed Finn and Kamaron weren’t waiting for us in the living room. Finn would know exactly what Jaxon and I had been doing when he saw me. It was written all over me. My lips were swollen and felt tender, still tingling from Jaxon’s fierce kisses. Loose strands of hair tickled my face and neck where they had escaped from my usually neat braids. One braid was noticeably looser, from when Jaxon’s fingers had tugged it free in the heat of the moment. A small, tender spot pulsed just below my jaw, sure to become a visible mark later. Heat radiated from my cheeks and neck. I could feel the flush extending down to my collarbone.

My chest tightened at the thought of hurting Finn, but I couldn’t control the wild way I felt whenever Jaxon was near. My heart—or maybe my dragon—had other ideas.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. I had made my choice, for better or worse. The problem was telling Finn. The very thought made my palms sweat and my breath hitch.

We walked into the living room and my heart lurched into my throat. My worst fear had come true. Finn and Kamaron were waiting for us, their presence like a punch to my gut. Kamaron’s eyes darted nervously between Finn and me, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic silence. For once, he didn’t make a dad joke, the tension in the room too thick.

The disappointment and hurt in Finn’s eyes cut me like a knife. My chest constricted, making it hard to breathe. Without a word, he turned and left the room, each step feeling like another twist of the blade in my heart.

I instinctively went to follow him, my body yearning to comfort him, to explain. But then I looked up at Jaxon, torn between two worlds, my body trembling with the weight of my decision.

The headmaster’s gaze locked with mine. “It’s time for us all to retire. Tomorrow will be a big day.” His don’t-even-think-about-sneaking-out-again tone made me wince, and I hung my head.

I briefly reached for Jaxon’s hand and then released it, my fingers trembling as they slipped away. A chill immediately raced up my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Peyton,” Jaxon murmured, his voice low and husky. “You don’t have to go.”

I shook my head, unable to meet his eyes. “Yes, I do,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

A hollow ache formed in the pit of my stomach as I crossed my arms tightly over my chest and followed Twyla back to our room, each step heavier than the last. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, afraid that if I looked at Jaxon, my resolve would crumble, but I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, burning into my back, making the hair on my neck stand on end.

My throat constricted as I swallowed hard, dreading the tongue lashing I knew would be coming once Twyla closed the door. The taste of fear filled my mouth as we approached our room, my muscles coiling tighter with each passing second.

She pushed the door to our room open with a creak that set my teeth on edge. I brushed past her, the static electricity between us ready to shoot lightning strikes. As I entered, I swear she hissed like a snake. The tension in the room was like a gathering thunderstorm, about to bring on a downpour.

Twyla’s pupils constricted to pinpoints. “How could you do this to Finn?” Each syllable landed like acid on my skin.

I squared my shoulders, ignoring the trembling of my hands as I faced her. My heart was slamming so hard in my chest I was sure she could see it through my clothes. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” I said unsteadily.

“Well, you did.” Her voice crackled with fury. She jabbed a finger toward me hard enough to make me flinch. “It was a slap in the face for him to discover you had snuck out with Jaxon to fool around. He deserved better than to find out this way.”

I held up my hands, palms out, trying to ward off her anger. “I know,” I said, the words tumbling out. “It wasn’t a planned thing. I was nervous about tomorrow and needed some fresh air. And Jaxon just happened?—”

“Just happened?” Twyla’s voice sliced through the air, sharp as a blade. I could almost see the steam coming out of her ears and a vein throbbed visibly at her temple, her face flushing an angry crimson. “Are you daft?” she hissed, nostrils flaring. “He can’t keep his eyes?—”

Her gaze raked over me. I fought the urge to cross my arms over my chest and my heart hammered against my ribs as Twyla’s eyes narrowed, cataloging every damning detail. I was suddenly hyper-aware of my messy braids and wrinkled clothes—of my untucked shirt clinging to my skin, still damp with sweat. Of the grass stains on my shorts, a vivid green reminder of my indiscretion.

Twyla’s lips curled as she took in each piece of evidence and she jabbed a perfectly manicured finger at me, the gesture so aggressive I flinched. “Or his hands off you,” she finished disdainfully.

The accusation hung in the air, thick and suffocating. I inhaled deeply, the scent of crushed grass and Jaxon’s lingering cologne filling my lungs. Time slowed down as I turned Twyla’s words over in my mind, examining them from every angle.

To my surprise, a warm, defiant spark ignited in my chest and spread through me, melting away the ice of shame Twyla had tried to instill in me.

I squared my shoulders and met her judgmental gaze head-on. My voice came out steady, surprising even myself. “Maybe he didn’t, Twyla.”

She blinked, clearly taken aback. Then her features rearranged themselves into a superior smirk, her chin lifting in an I-told-you-so expression that made my fingers itch to slap it off her face.

But the fire in my veins burned away the last of my uncertainty. I leaned in close enough to see the flecks of gold in Twyla’s hazel eyes, close enough for her to feel the heat of my breath as I delivered the final blow.

“And you know what? I don’t care.”

My words rang out, clear and unapologetic. Twyla’s smug expression faltered, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. I savored the moment, tasting the sweet victory on my tongue as I watched her struggle to process my words.

“What? No. Peyton, he’s going to break your heart,” she sputtered, regaining her composure.

I took a deep breath, a feeling strange and a calm settled over me. “Maybe,” I said softly. I met her gaze, unflinching. “But it’s mine to break, not yours.”

The silence that followed was deafening, thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Twyla stood up from her bed and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door with a thunderous bang that reverberated through my bones. The sudden silence that followed was unbearable.

I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes fixed on the bedroom door. My fingers twitched, itching to the turn the doorknob, to flee into the hallway and into Jaxon’s waiting arms. I could almost feel the phantom warmth of his embrace, so different from the chill that had settled deep in my core.

Then reality crashed over me like a torrid rainstorm. The headmaster would be on high alert, his senses listening for any hint of impropriety between us. His piercing gaze would follow us everywhere, as seeing through walls and reading our very thoughts.

We hadn’t actually been told to stay away from each other—that was the irony of it all. But the headmaster’s stern warnings and disapproving looks had created an unspoken expectation that hung in the air like a thick fog.

I knew how it would go: every time Jaxon and I so much as glanced at each other, the headmaster’s ears would prick up, straining to catch the faintest whisper of scandal. He would have eyes and ears everywhere, waiting for us to slip up and confirm his suspicions. The thought of his stern face made my stomach clench.

With leaden limbs, I peeled off first my rumpled shirt and then my shorts, each movement feeling like I was moving through molasses. The grass stains on my shorts mocked me, a reminder of a fleeting moment of happiness. I let the clothes fall to my feet, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the empty room. I slipped my nightgown over my head, the soft material a poor substitute for the comfort I craved.

Tomorrow loomed before me like a dark, yawning chasm. The thought of being sold to Simon like a mere piece of furniture made me feel sick. Because it meant another prison awaited me, its iron bars already closing in, trapping me.

I crawled into bed, noticing how cool the sheets felt against my flushed skin. The mattress creaked under my weight, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness of the room. I turned my back to Twyla’s empty bed, curling into myself as if I could physically hold all the broken pieces together.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing sleep to come, but it eluded me. Hot tears leaked from beneath my eyelids, trailing down my cheeks and soaking into my pillow. Each silent sob shook my body as fear and sadness crashed over me in waves, threatening to pull me under. Tomorrow’s uncertain fate loomed in my mind like a specter I couldn’t banish.

In the darkness, I lay wide awake, my heart racing and my mind whirling as the night stretched out endlessly before me.