“What the hell did you think you were doing?” I demand when he finally has the nerve to look me in the eye.

Flint doesn’t answer me right away—the coward—and I start to ask again, more forcefully this time. Except Grace steps between us before I can and whispers, “I fell, Jaxon. Flint saved me.”

It’s like setting a rocket off inside me. Finally hearing my name on her lips feels damn good, but listening to her defend Flint is about to make my head explode. “Did he?” I ask, reverting to sarcasm in an attempt not to tear Flint apart.

“Yes! The wind kicked up, and I lost my balance,” she implores. “I fell out of the tree, and Flint jumped after me.”

I’m about to question the veracity of that statement—from Flint’s point of view, anyway—when Grace reaches out and touches his shoulder like he’s the big, brave hero who saved her. “What’s wrong?” she asks, and it burns my ass. “Are you hurt after all?”

There’s a lot I want to say to that, but I can’t. Not here and not now, so once again I lock it down deep and pretend that it isn’t there.

Seconds later, a small quake rips through the earth.

Behind me, Byron says my name—quietly—and I shut that shit down fast. It’s harder than it should be, considering the only way I’ve gotten through everything I’ve had to do for the last year is to lock down my emotions until I forget that I even feel anything at all.

I’m not sure anyone even noticed the quake, because no one says a word. Instead, Flint shrugs off Grace’s hand and says, “I’m fine, Grace.” Which means he’s smarter than he looks.

Except she’s not buying it. “Then what’s wrong?” she asks, looking back and forth between us. “I don’t understand what’s happening here.”

There’s nothing to say, so I don’t answer—and neither does Flint, probably for the same reason. Grace looks confused, and everyone else around us looks like they’re seconds away from rubbing their hands together with glee—even as the dragons move into place behind Flint, making sure the Order and I know that they have his back.

Like that will matter if I decide to destroy him.

Macy must sense the growing danger, because suddenly she pipes up from nowhere. “We should go back to the room, Grace. Make sure you’re okay.” Her voice is a lot higher than I’ve ever heard it.

“I’m fine,” Grace assures her, once again looking between the dragon and me like she thinks I’m going to do something stupid. Which, not going to lie, I just might if we don’t get the hell out of here and soon. Then she continues. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And yeah, that’s not going to work for me. Not when she’s here surrounded by who knows how many people who want to hurt her. Or worse.

I take a couple of steps closer to Grace until I’m right behind her, so close that I can smell the warm cinnamon and vanilla scent of her. “Actually, that’s the best idea I’ve heard all afternoon. I’ll walk you back to your room.”

No way am I letting her go anywhere alone.

The crowd recoils at my words. Like, I actually see people drawing back, eyes wide, mouths open, faces slack with shock. Not that I blame them. I’m acting way outside the norm now. Everyone wants to watch, but no one wants to get in my way.

Smart move. With the mood I’m in, the first person to challenge me might very well end up dead. Or at least with two very distinct marks in their neck.

It’s a feeling that is only reinforced when Grace says, “I need to stay with Flint. Make sure he’s really—”

“I’m fine, Grace,” Flint grates out from between clenched teeth. “Just go.”

“Are you sure?” She reaches out and tries to lay a hand on his fucking shoulder again. But this time I’m there between then, preventing her hand from landing. Then I step forward, moving her slowly, inexorably away from Flint and back toward school.

She doesn’t object, though the look on her face holds about a dozen questions. Maybe even more.

“Come on, Macy,” she says, eventually reaching for her cousin’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Macy nods, and then we start walking back toward the castle—Macy, Grace, and me. I nod to the Order to stay where they are until the crowd starts to disperse, so that’s exactly what they do.

Grace and I walk in silence for a minute or two until she turns to me and asks, “What are you doing out here anyway? I thought you weren’t going to join the snowball fight.”

I don’t have an answer to that, so I prevaricate with, “Good thing I was out here, considering the mess Flint got you into.” I very deliberately don’t look at her to keep myself from saying something stupid.

“It really is no big deal,” she assures me, but there’s something off in her tone even before she continues. “Flint had me. He—”

“Flint very definitely did not have you,” I snap, her defense of that damn dragon setting me off like few things have in a very long time. I stop to face her, determined to make her understand. “In fact—” I break off, eyes narrowing at the flicker of pain that flits across her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Besides not being able to figure out why you’re so mad?” She brushes off my concern.

But that doesn’t stop me from looking her over from head to toe. “What’s hurting you?”

“I’m fine,” she insists.

“You’re hurt, Grace?” Macy joins the conversation for the first time, and I’m embarrassed to admit I almost forgot she was even with us. Then again, next to Grace, everyone pales in comparison.

“It’s nothing,” Grace repeats, but it’s not very convincing. Especially when she continues to walk—and winces with every step she takes.

I grind my teeth together and resist the urge to make a comment about just how stubborn she is. Instead I ask, “What hurts?” and give her a look that tells her I’m not budging on this until she’s honest with me.

She stares back, giving as good as she’s getting. But eventually she backs off with a disgruntled sigh. “My ankle. I must have twisted it when we hit the ground.”

As soon as I know what’s wrong with her, I kneel down and probe her foot and ankle as gently as I can through her boot. She gasps a little, and the fact that I’m hurting her, even accidentally, goes through me like a particularly powerful current. “I can’t take this off out here or you’ll get frostbite. But does it hurt when I do this?”

She gasps, and I ease away, pissed off that I hurt her. Even more pissed off that I let her get hurt to begin with.

“Should I run ahead and get the snowmobile?” Macy asks. “I can be back before too long.”

“I can walk. Honest. I’m okay,” Grace says, but her voice sounds as pathetic as she looks.

I shoot her an incredulous look as I reach down and help her to her feet. Then, because she very obviously can’t walk, I swoop her into my arms. And do my best to ignore the fact that holding her feels better than anything has in the entire hundred years of my existence.

If You Want to

Feel Better, Never Ask

an Evil Vampire a Question

—Jaxon—

I’m out the front door before Grace can even make it down the first step.

I know I should probably stick around, but I can’t do that. Not right now. Not when she’s got that bandage on her neck and other ones on her arm and cheek. And not when I know that I’m the asshole who did it to her.

I close my eyes for a second—just a second—and it all flashes back. The earthquake. The window exploding under the force of my power. The moment the glass sliced into Grace’s neck.

I’ve never been more terrified in my life. Fear isn’t something I experience very often—when you’re the scariest thing in the night, you tend to not worry about what else is bumping along next to you. But watching that glass hit Grace, watching her blood spray all over the room and realizing the glass had sliced an artery… Yeah, terrified doesn’t even begin to cover how I felt.

The next five minutes are a blur. I remember licking her throat closed in an effort to stop the blood, remember bits and pieces of gathering her in my arms, but fade full-out for Marise as Grace lay white and still in my arms.

I’d nearly killed her because I couldn’t control myself.

Nearly killed her just because being near her makes me feel so much that I can’t lock it away.

Nearly killed her because when it comes to her, I’m weak. So weak that I unwittingly let the energy build up and nearly mated her without even asking her permission.

It’s a humbling realization…and an awful one. I’ve spent my entire life protecting people from the terrible power and unchecked selfishness of my family. And now, three days with my mate and suddenly I’m blowing out windows, shaking the fucking earth, and nearly bonding with her without even letting her know what’s going on?

What the fuck am I thinking?

But that’s just it. I haven’t been thinking, not since I walked down those stairs that first evening and saw Grace standing by the chess table. From that moment on, all I’ve been thinking about is making her mine. And now she’s nearly died, twice, all because I can’t get my shit together enough to take care of her—to watch over her—the way I should.

But what’s the alternative to us being there together? Leave Katmere Academy—school to the children of the most influential monsters in the world—right now, when we’re on the brink of yet another war? Especially when that war has been largely caused by my own family?

Or should I get Grace to leave? I already tried that the first day, all but ordering her to get the hell out because I wanted her more than I’ve ever wanted anything—a feeling that only grows with each day she’s here. She didn’t go when I told her to because she couldn’t, because she doesn’t have anywhere else to be.