Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 34

Sweet Dreams Asshole.

51)

By the time we reached the dorms, Evander looked less like a firestorm and more like a man again, though the smoke still lingered faintly on his skin. I shoved my door open with my shoulder, waved him in, and shut it behind us. The silence sat heavy between us, broken only by the scrape of chairs as we dropped into them.

“How is she?” he asked finally. His voice was rough, stripped down, like he was afraid of the answer.

The question twisted in my chest. For a heartbeat, I saw her again, mud–streaked, bloodied, looking so damn small against my shoulder as I carried her through the halls. But then I remembered her eyes, sharp even half–dead, spitting venom about Cage. Strong.

I leaned back, forcing my face into a casual mask. “She’s fine,” I said, tossing a hand like I could wave the memory away. “I got her back to her room. She’s tough, Ev. Stronger than she looks. Probably stronger than she knows.”

He nodded, eyes fixed on the floor, jaw working like he was chewing on words he couldn’t say. I should’ve told him. Should’ve said that when I carried her up those stairs, when she rolled her eyes at me and thanked me in that small, quiet voice, it did something to me. Lit something I hadn’t expected to burn. But this was Evander. My best mate. The one person I’d bleed for without hesitation. And his dragon had already claimed her. So I swallowed it down.

“She’ll be alright,” I added, softer this time. “You got her out when it counted. She owes you her life.”

His gaze flicked up, molten gold simmering under the surface, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Because the truth pressed at my ribs anyway: she wasn’t mine to want.

Evander finally scrubbed a hand down his face and pushed up from the chair. “I should get some rest,” he muttered, grimacing. “And a shower. I stink like

smoke and blood.”

I snorted, leaning back and tipping my chair onto two legs. “You’re not wrong. Thought I was going to choke on dragon breath the whole way here.”

That earned me the ghost of a smile, faint and worn, but real. He shook his head, already moving for the door.

“Get some sleep too, Kael,” he said over his shoulder. “We’ll need it.”

I just gave him a lazy salute and watched the door click shut behind him. The room went quiet, save for the creak of my chair when I dropped it back onto all fours. I didn’t let myself think about her again. Not with him so close. Not when my best friend’s dragon had already called her his.

Allison.

67

The door clicked shut, and the sound of Kael’s boots faded down the hall. Finally. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and sagged back against the chair. Every muscle in my body screamed, my skin burned where it had been torn, and my head felt like it was packed with wet sand. I hated it, hated feeling weak, hated letting anyone carry me, hated the way my body betrayed me. But I wasn’t weak. Not really. I just needed a refill. I forced myself to crawl, literally crawl, across the rug, palms dragging over the soft weave until I found the faint bumps where the vent covers pressed through. Not Kael’s. Not Evander’s. I wasn’t that reckless. I slid one cover back, the metal screeching faintly, and pressed my cheek close enough to peer down. A warlock sprawled on his bed below, shirt discarded, breathing even and steady. His magic shimmered in the air around him like heatwaves, ripe for the taking. 1 reached. The siphon tug came easily, familiar. Power rushed up my veins, warm and buzzing, filling the empty places in me that felt like open wounds. The ache dulled first, then the sharpness in my ribs eased, then the fire across my back cooled. My body remembered what whole felt like, and the broken parts knitted together under borrowed strength. I didn’t take too much. Just enough. Enough to stitch myself back to good as new, or close enough that no one could call me fragile. Sliding the vent cover back into place, I pushed up onto my knees. My reflection in the stained–glass window caught my eye, hair wild, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with stolen magic. Not weak. Never weak. And now… now I was ready to find Cage and show him exactly what happened when you tried to drown me.

I crouched low by the vent, listening. Steady breathing. A soft snore. Cage, sleeping like the smug bastard he was, completely unaware that I was a floor

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Sweet Dreams Asshole.

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above, plotting how to ruin him. I counted down the vents, mapping them in my head. One, two, three… his was the fourth. That grin slid across my face

before I could stop it. Perfect. I pushed away from the carpet and dug into my bag for the clothes in my wardrobe: black hoodie, black pants, sneakers, quiet,

quick, and forgettable. I tied my hair back into a knot, pulling the hood over it until nothing of me showed but my eyes. As I padded down the winding

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