His jaw clenches. “It’s called melding, and only soulbound mates can use it. Usually, it’s done the first time the soulbond is . . . consummated, but in a less intimate situation, it can be used to calm.”

Shimmer save me, I can’t imagine the intimacy required to look someone in the eye the entire time you make love to them. My body can, though, and it shivers with delight at the idea.

Crossing my thighs, I say, “Thank you.”

He forces his focus to a spot just over my shoulder. “Summer, I’ve been thinking about what happened during the hunt. If I had forced you into becoming permanently mated to me against your will before you were ready—” He scrapes a hand through his hair, sending droplets flying, before meeting my eyes. “When we consummate our bond, it will be both our decisions.”

I focus on the way the last of the fading sunlight dances across the pool’s surface rather than see the intense desire brimming inside his eyes. “And what if I decide I never want to consummate the bond?”

He goes still, but when I finally look up, there’s no anger inside his face, only amusement. “I promise you, there will come a time when you realize we’re meant to be together for eternity, Princess. And when you do, when you finally accept what you know is true, I’m going to lock you away and spend a full week proving you made the right decision.”

Holy hell. Heat floods my chest all the way to my ears. But instead of backing down, the hooker inside me pops her head out and teases, “A whole week? Are you sure you don’t mean more like five minutes?”

His wicked grin is a thing of beauty. “On second thought, perhaps I’ll make you beg first.”

Okay, dangerous territory. I cross my arms over my chest. “That will never happen.”

“Challenge accepted.” He rakes his gaze over my stomach before dragging his focus back to my face. “You said that you want to know me before you commit your soul to me. So I propose a trial where we can do just that. One night a week, after our training session, we spend thirty minutes together just . . . talking.” He frowns at that but continues. “You can ask me questions about my life or whatever you want to know. No physical touching beyond what’s needed for training and such—at least”—a devilish look sparks in his eyes—“not until you tell me otherwise.”

I swallow. He’s giving me exactly what I wanted, but the idea of being so close to him all the time . . .

I exhale. “Deal. But the sessions don’t start until after I pass the first gauntlet, and I can veto the dates at any time if they conflict with schoolwork or otherwise . . . distract me.”

“Done. But I get an extra day working with you on testing your powers. Once we can pinpoint them down exactly, we can use spells to help you control them.”

I narrow my eyes at his amendment, but it does make sense that we would need an extra day a week, if only so I can learn how to not use my magic on accident. “Fine.”

He grins, and something about the gesture makes my stomach flutter. “Game on, Princess. But you should know, I’m cutthroat when it comes to getting what I want.”

I don’t doubt that for a second. Only this time, what he wants is me.

All of me.

Forever.

18

I poke at the salad on my tray, eyeing the now empty spot where the roll sat moments ago. I’ve never liked salad unless it’s drowned in cheese and dressing, but both items were gone by the time I made it back from changing at the dorms.

“So, the blood just exploded from your locker when you opened it?” Kyler asks. She’s a first year and is too new to know I’m a social pariah, which is why she keeps asking questions about the incident earlier instead of pretending like the others that it didn’t happen.

I nod, half looking at her as I search for just one tiny crumb of goat’s cheese to add to the limp kale impaled on my fork. “Yep. Like in those cheap horror flicks.”

“And it was real blood?” she presses, biting her lip.

Giving up on my salad, I settle my attention on her. She’s pretty, in a naive, wholesome, girl next door kind of way. Fine shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. Bright brown eyes that glow from within. A smattering of freckles.

Mack says her grandparents have deep ties with the Fall Court King, but she seems too oblivious to the Evermore’s cruelty to have ever truly been around them.

“Probably not,” I lie before instantly regretting it. Letting someone like her continue their make-believe fantasy that the Fae are decent is cruel and dangerous. Kyler is soft spoken and kind, two personality traits that don’t benefit mortals here.

“Good.” Kyler’s eyes brighten as she leans forward on her elbows. “Hey, does anyone know what happened to the girl who used to live in my room? I found some of her stuff still in the drawers. Expensive makeup, that kind of thing.”

Mack and I share a look. A few seats down, Richard and Jace whip their heads in our direction.

Thank the Shimmer, Kyler doesn’t seem to notice as she adds, “I think her name is Evelyn? I found some of her old school papers too.”

Mack gives a careful shrug and makes some excuse about Evelyn leaving before shifting the conversation to our upcoming exams today. Only our tight circle knows the truth about how she turned, and we’ve all been asked to keep that inconvenient detail quiet.

As Mack opens her teal folder and pulls out the study guide, any appetite I had left vanishes. At this point, I’ve studied enough that I know the answers to each study guide question, but . . . still.

I can’t shake the feeling that I have to be perfect this semester.

Other than the locker incident and a few other juvenile pranks—like someone setting deranged brownies loose in our dorm room one night while we slept—nothing serious has happened. Yet.

But I can’t afford one single mistake.

Mack pulls out her Poisons and Potions quiz sheet, color coded like the obsessive overachiever she is, and begins rattling off questions.

“What species of mushroom is used to reduce anxiety?”

“Bisporos tranquaire,” I answer.

“What type of moss is used as a stabilizer in elixirs?”

“Ash moss, which is actually a liverwort, not a true moss.”

“What is the uncommon name for the rare monkshood plant?”

“Dragonsbane,” I say. “It was declared an illegal substance by the council after the last war, along with a host of other poisonous plants, after it was used to nearly eradicate the entire dragon clans of the Winter and Fall courts.”

Kyler frowns down at her notes, scribbled in bubbly pink cursive. “I don’t remember learning that.”

Mack and I exchange yet another look. Kyler is a first year, but someone pulled enough strings so that she skipped straight to the more advanced classes.

“The Dark—I mean, King Oberon’s grandmother was a descendant of the Ice Dragon Lord who claimed the northern half of the Winter Court’s territories. Although King Oberon was only a quarter dragon, his magic chose that creature as his shifter form. During the last war, some of the Seelie took out their rage on the dragon clans. It nearly wiped them out.”

“Oh.” Her frown deepens, and I feel a stab of sympathy for her. I remember that same drowning feeling I had last year trying to learn thousands of years of Fae knowledge in a few weeks.

“Don’t worry,” I reassure her. “I doubt that will be on any test this year. I read ahead.”

I’ve been doing that lately, desperate to learn more about the Darken and my own history.

“Translation,” Mack adds, “she’s being a showoff.”

Oh, boy. If Mack’s calling me a showoff . . . I open my mouth to reply, but think better of it when I catch the tense line of her shoulders, her forced smile. My gaze slides to her tray, where she’s portioned out an apple into tiny cubes.

When was the last time I saw her actually eat more than a few bites of something?

My phone buzzes in my pocket, dragging my attention away from my bestie. As soon as I see the initials ILB, my heart leaps into my throat.

What are you wearing to training tonight?

A blush sweeps over my chest as I take in his question. I can practically hear his teasing voice inside my head, thick with amusement.

Shielding my phone from Mack’s curious gaze, I quickly send back a reply.

Baggy joggers and a sweatshirt.

The dots blink forever, and then . . .

Tease. You wouldn’t dare.

I tamp down my stupid grin. We’ve been doing this—whatever this is—ever since the night at his penthouse. Harmless flirting over text. In person, he’s kept to his word. Only touching me during training. Not mentioning the soulbond or pressuring me for anything beyond the light, flirtatious relationship we’ve established.

Which is wonderful because the first gauntlet is in two days.

Two fricking days.

And we still have no clue what my powers are, how they’re activated, or how to stop them.

“Ready to go slay this test?” Mack asks as she gathers her stuff, a strand of her brown hair escaping her ear and falling forward.

“Mackenzie Fairchild, I was born ready,” I declare, loud enough to draw weird stares from the rest of the lunchroom.

Grinning, Mack high fives me. “Damn right you were.”

Everyone’s definitely gawking now, but I don’t care. As long as Mack’s by my side, I can take on the Everwilde.

Last minute, I remember I left my iPad in my locker. Because Whitehall Academy uses all modern technology for lessons, note-taking, and tests, the Spring Court sponsored new iPads for all the students and made online test taking mandatory. Mack said they probably did that just to piss off the Winter Court, whose stance on mortal technology is less favorable.

I grab my iPad, thankful the battery is at seventy-five percent, sling my backpack over my shoulder, and sprint down the corridor toward the lecture hall. My tennis shoes squeak across the marble floor.

When I round the top of the stairs, I spot the closed door. Crap. I still have five minutes before the professor locks the door.