Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Reeve ignores both of us as Aric exits his room as well. He’s wearing a loose gray T-shirt and even looser jeans that somehow still make him look good enough to eat. He snaps a ball cap over his head and follows Reeve down the hall without as much as glancing in our direction.
“And to think we just slept together,” I mutter before thinking.
Ziva slams her hand on the doorframe like I just announced I was betrothed. “I’m sorry, what?”
“No!” I wave at her and grab my key card and phone. “Not like that. I mean, we slept in the same bed, but only because I sleepwalked to his room, invited myself in, and crashed.”
The look on Ziva’s face doesn’t just say I don’t buy it, it says I wouldn’t buy it even if you paid me. “In his bed,” she clarifies as we walk down the hall.
I rub my lips together, then bite down on the bottom one to keep my scream inside my head. “Yeah, in his bed.”
“You. And Aric.” Does she have to keep processing all the information out loud like I didn’t already live through it?
“It would appear so.” I hit the down button and get on the elevator.
The doors close, then open again without moving floors. Rowen and Eira walk in. I’m not sure what it is about this girl that bothers me so much, but my hackles rise just seeing her. She’s wearing a baggy shirt that covers her ass, dark sunglasses, and she’s staring into her coffee cup. Maybe it bothers me that she’s taking all of Rowen’s time when he could—and should—be helping me? Or at the very least, offering?
“Rough night?” Ziva asks, taking in the scene. “Or rough morning?”
Eira shrugs and elbows Rowen. “This one kept moaning in his sleep.”
Well, that’s a new development.
Rowen briefly makes eye contact with me before looking at the ground. Is he feeling guilty? I mean, whatever, it’s fine if he wants to date, but she doesn’t seem like his type, and wouldn’t that be an insanely huge conflict of interest?
Once off the elevator, everyone falls into step as we make our way along the trail through the trees to class, with me taking up the rear. The air may be thick with mist, but it smells amazing, fresh. Pine and autumn and fresh rain, and I can almost pretend this is just a normal day in college, headed down the path with my new friends.
Almost.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice Rowen beside me until he clears his throat. He’s slowed down to my pace like he’s waiting for me.
“It was the nightmares. That’s why I was sleeping in her room.” He says it under his breath. “Really shitty, freaky nightmares. I die every time. I thought maybe I’d sleep better with someone else in the room.”
“Err, that doesn’t sound pleasant. Do you think you ate something bad? Or”—the look I get is one of pure irritation—“maybe it has to do with your past, with your scars.” I hate bringing it up, but I have to believe that at some point, he needs to deal with his trauma. Maybe it’s trying to fight through when he sleeps. “You’ve had it rough. Maybe it would help to talk to someone.”
He barks out a laugh. “Yeah, let me get right on that. I can imagine it now. ‘You see, doctor, I work for Odin. Yes, that’s the one, the ruler of Asgard, about this tall, dark demeanor, not the hero you think, has lots of tattoos, doesn’t eat fish, might kill me one day, but it’s strange, I just can’t seem to close my eyes without dreaming of my death.’”
I wince. “I mean, at least they’d medicate you?”
“Very helpful.” He scowls and eyes Eira, who’s out of earshot. “Your father can’t know. He seems to think he can fix any sort of weakness, and if he can’t fix it, he makes whatever reminds him of said weakness disappear. I don’t want to be next, Rey.”
His voice is desperate, filled with fear. I touch his arm. “I won’t let that happen.”
“You have enough on your plate dealing with Erikson and finding Mjölnir.”
I consider telling him about the runes on Aric’s back, but I hesitate. Aric and I struck a truce. We sealed it with blood. I hate to admit it, but it felt good to work with my enemy, and now breaking that enemy’s trust feels wrong.
Besides, a small part of me is saying not to tell Rowen everything. He can’t help but forward all intel to my dad, which would put him in an impossible situation.
We reach the arts building and walk in. We’re side by side, making our way down the hall, since his class with Eira is in the next room over from mine. I see Aric sitting by himself in the same spot as yesterday. I feel different, though—we’re different. Things have shifted from complete hatred to a weird hot-and-cold game to a possible truce. I’m not sure if crawling into his bed helped or made it worse. Can’t wait to find out.