Thief Page 4

After a few minutes, I start to tune him out. It’s almost the same speech as last year, so I’ve heard it already.

  As my attention shifts to the crowd, I notice a hell of a lot of people are staring back at me. People will peek over at me, realize I’m looking, and glance away hurriedly, their faces turning pink. It’s like they’re trying to catch a glimpse of a celebrity.

  I’m… not a fan of this. Maybe Alyssa would like the notoriety. Maybe Cam would be able to handle it well. But I’ve always been a loner, and even if I’ve been coming out of my shell a little more lately, getting a ton of attention isn’t my thing.

  I wasn’t even trying to get attention. I didn’t ask for this. Stopping Raul was the right thing to do, and it wasn’t like I could turn down being in the Trials—well, okay, I did almost turn that down, but I was persuaded to change my mind.

  Whether I asked for it or not though, all this extra attention worries me a little. Not just in general, or for myself, but… because of the guys, and my relationship with them.

  Especially Roman.

  Chapter 5

  After Hardwick’s speech, we have the rest of the day off to pick up our schedules and cram in a last bit of lounging around before classes start.

  Tomorrow, I’ll officially begin my second year at the Academy of Unpredictable Magic.

  I’m actually looking forward to resuming my training. I like learning and always have, even if I’m not exactly a top-notch student. I was never up for valedictorian, if you know what I mean. But the curriculum at a magical academy tends to be a lot more interesting than what I studied in high school, so that helps.

  As excited as I am about the classes themselves though, I’m a little worried about the whole… struggling with my magic thing.

  Last semester, I barely made it through the Trials alive. And yeah, part of that was because some nutjob and his underlings were trying to kill me, but another part of it was due to my own fumbling magical skills. I don’t want this to be another semester of me struggling to keep up with the rest of my class. Especially since I’m in my second year now.

  Cam can tell I’m nervous, so he gets me up in the morning and takes me out to our usual path in the woods. He’s an athletic, outdoorsy guy who loves being in nature, and our campus is gorgeous and perfect for that. There’s a massive forest on the east side of campus with trees and hiking trails everywhere, and Cam and I know a lot of them by now thanks to our runs.

  “Come on!” I tug on his arm, trying to get him to actually run with me instead of just walk at a moderately brisk pace. It’s beautiful around us. Early dawn light seeps through the woods, painting everything gold, pink, and purple, but I’m not out here to admire the view. I’m here to exercise.

  “You shouldn’t be running just yet,” Cam replies, resisting my attempts and digging his heels in. “You need to build up your strength.”

  “I need to get back to where I was before all this happened.” I let go of his arm and stop walking entirely, a sudden wave of frustration nearly bowling me over. “I need to be in better shape, need to regain the ground I lost. I can’t let Johnson have this victory over me. I don’t want to start classes feeling tired all the time or not being able to fight the way I used to! I could kick Dmitri’s ass before, and now… look at me!”

  My voice cracks a little, and I can feel my eyes getting hot. I swallow quickly and look away. I didn’t mean for all of that to come out. Cam doesn’t need to bear the brunt of my messy emotions. But it’s true—I missed out on my entire summer because of that bigoted jackass Johnson. I could’ve died if I’d gotten hit by a worse spell, and he told me people like me were filthy and unclean. I can’t let him win.

  Cam takes my hands and pulls me into a hug, his bright blue eyes shining down at me with sympathy. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re going to get there. Just the fact that you’re standing and walking around—that’s a victory. You aren’t weak, or not good enough, or any of that other shit for taking it easy and being smart.”

  I hug him back, letting myself melt against the hard planes of his body for a few seconds before pulling back and sighing. “Yeah, tell that to the others. You’re all hovering over me like I’ll break, even Dmitri.”

  “Ah, Dmitri’s just on edge because it’s our third year. Last year before graduation and all that. And there’s a parents’ weekend for third-years scheduled right after midterms. It’s a ways off, but I think he’s already dreading it.”

  I remember Asher telling me he went to visit his family during the summer, but I don’t think Dmitri did. “Is his family really that bad?”

  Cam shrugs. “He was glad for an excuse to stay away this summer, I’ll put it that way.”

  I get that. My dad… well, I was ten when he left us, so I haven’t actually seen or spoken to him in thirteen years. There’s a lot I’ve probably forgotten about him in that time. But what I do remember, more than anything, is how he skipped out on us. Left Mom to take care of two little girls all on her own. And then when Mom was sick and dying, did he call even once? Did he come to look after his own children and make sure they were okay?

  Nope. I raised Maddy for the last five years. Not him.

  Sometimes he sends a birthday card, usually on the wrong day. It’s like he’s purposefully mocking us with how little he cares.

  I wonder if he’d show up to the parents’ weekend thing in my third year if I invited him. I hate that I kind of wish he would—just so I could rub it in his face how well I’m doing, how well Mads and I are both doing, without him.

  Yeah, I defeated a rogue magic user and won the Trials, and it was all without your help, Dad.

  There’d be a kind of sick satisfaction in that.

  “Did Dmitri have a good summer then?” I ask. I’m not about to dump all my father issues onto Cam or anyone else, thanks.

  “Yeah.” He grins, cocking his head. His blue eyes sparkle in the morning light, and his blond hair is a little longer than it was in the spring. “I’m pretty sure he did. We all did, in a way, even though it was awful in another way. I’m sorry you missed out on it. We all got closer—especially Roman. The guy’s intimidating as fuck sometimes, but he’s really great. I never thought about how small our age gap is before. He acts so much older a lot of the time, but he’s only twenty-eight.”

  Dmitri’s twenty-six, Cam and Asher are twenty-four, and I’m twenty-three, so it’s only a five year age gap at most between Roman and the rest of us.

  And he’s already a professor. Just goes to show how determined and skilled he is.

  “Yeah, he does seem older,” I agree with a fond smile.

  “It’s all the mysterious brooding.” Cam stares off into the distance, clearly imitating Roman. “I must… go out… and brood on the moors… like the hero of a Brontë novel…”

  I throw my head back and laugh because that’s a damn good impression. Cam grins, pleased to have broken me out of my funk, and then he pulls me in and kisses me—like he can now, and he wants to, so he will. Like he’s got an impulse he just can’t hide. I grin into the kiss, wondering how many times he’s wanted to do this before and had to hold himself back.

  Poor guy. I’ll have to make it up to him somehow. I’ve already got so many ideas…

  His lips move against mine, fun and flirty with a layer of heat and need behind it that makes my toes curl a little.

  But as the kiss deepens, I start to feel—odd. Lightheaded and dizzy. The world seems to pitch beneath my feet like I’m on a boat in choppy waters.

  What the…?

  My muscles suddenly go weak, as if someone flipped a switch inside me, and I slump in Cam’s embrace.

  He yelps in alarm, the strong bands of his arms tightening around me. “Sin? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m… fine,” I slur.

  What—what was that?

  A wave of nausea hits me and then vanishes, leaving a strange, unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. I blink as the world comes back into focus.
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br />   Cam helps me find my feet. My knees literally buckled earlier. “I think we should finish for the day. Walk back to campus. Classes will be starting soon anyway.”

  I nod, feeling like my cheeks are going to burn off from how hot they are. I can’t believe I nearly fainted, just from going on a walk and kissing someone. Geez, what’s wrong with me?

  “Yeah. That’s probably a smart idea. Just… don’t treat me like an invalid, okay?” I ask, my voice still a little shaky.

  “You’re not an invalid,” Cam replies, lacing his fingers with mine as we walk back down the path, “so we won’t.”

  I squeeze his hand, grateful.

  But as we make our way through the woods toward the main part of campus, I can’t stop feeling like… like there’s something in my chest that shouldn’t be there.

  Something foreign and strange and not entirely a part of me.

  It feels like something isn’t right.

  Chapter 6

  Cam doesn’t hover when we get back to the dorm, or at least, no more than usual. I’m glad about that, and when no more bouts of weakness assail me as I shower and get ready, I start to feel a bit more confident.

  He’s right. I should take the fact that I’m here at all as a win.

  Yes, I was physically inactive for three whole months, but since the coma was caused by magic, its effects were a little different than a regular coma. It’s almost like I was put in a temporary stasis, which—in theory, at least—means I should get back to normal pretty quickly now that I’m awake.

  I just need to work hard, focus, and not let myself fall behind.

  That sounds easy enough when I’m giving myself a little pep talk in the shower, but as I quickly discover, classes are definitely harder in the second year.

  I’ve got Theory of Magic with Professor Binns, Goldstein again for History of Magic—which is great, because she makes history seem anything but boring and dry—and Magical Control with Roman. Combat, Physical Training, and Practical Magic have all ramped up their intensity this year too. Not a single one of my professors seems interested in cutting us any slack.

  During the first week, I pump the guys for as much information as possible, learning which second-year classes are hardest, which professors will spring pop quizzes on you, that kind of thing. And the one piece of great news is that I’ve got a much better handle on my magic than last year. I’m pretty sure I’m still behind the rest of my class, but at least I’m doing the work that needs to be done.

  And boy, is there a lot of damn work.

  I’m not in the Trials this semester, which is what made my workload so crazy the last time around, but I might as well be for all the homework I have on my plate this fall.

  As the semester gets going in earnest, I push hard to keep up with everything, but I make a conscious effort to take care of myself too. And it helps. Three weeks into classes, I’m sleeping well, eating loads, and I can go out for real runs with Cam, covering longer and longer distances each time.

  Whatever that weird wave of dizziness was that hit me on the first day, it’s gone. Saying I’m on top of my game again would be a lie, but I think I’m finally on the road to recovery. It feels amazing.

  The guys stop hovering and treating me like I might break—although they’d probably deny doing any of that in the first place if I asked them—and focus on their studies instead.

  Well, all of them except Dmitri.

  Speaking of that little shit…

  Look, Dmitri and I—we have something. Even if he doesn’t want to talk about it. Even if he’s never brought up the moment we shared when I first woke up in Roman’s house and has gone right back to being hot and cold on me as usual. Even if we never say a word about it, the sexual chemistry between us is palpable and intense.

  Besides that, I genuinely care about him, as much as he irritates the shit out of me sometimes.

  And he cares about me too; I’m pretty damn sure of it.

  But that does not give him an excuse to pull his punches with me in fight class.

  I don’t have many classes with the guys. Most of them are separate now, since the third-years are taking all these intense seminars and half my classes are still with the first-years. But fight class is a mix of all three years, and Dmitri and I have always enjoyed sparring with each other.

  Okay, maybe “enjoy” isn’t quite the right word. We get a kick out of trying to one-up each other because we’re both stubborn and competitive, and we hate letting the other one win.

  I’ve always been Dmitri’s equal. When I started at Griffin Academy, I was scrappy and tough. The combat stuff came pretty naturally to me, and by now, I’ve added some serious fight training to my list of skills. So when I go up against the cranky, dark-haired mage, I know we’re evenly matched; sometimes he’ll win, and sometimes I’ll win. In fact, I beat him in combat for the right to compete in the Trials. But now?

  Now, I can tell the fucker is taking it easy on me.

  And I’m not going to stand for it.

  We’re three weeks into classes. I’m almost totally recovered from my coma. So this crap ends now.

  In our Friday afternoon Combat class, I pin Dmitri to the floor. He taps out, but I stay on top of him, not letting him get up. “Flip me off.”

  He twists his head around as much as he can to glare at me. “What the fuck do you mean?”

  “I mean, asshole, flip me off you! I know you can.” He’s done it before, letting me pin him for just a second so I think I’ve won and then flipping me and turning the tables.

  Dmitri rolls his eyes and flips me—but then leaves me sprawled on the mat and stands up, brushing himself off. “That’s it. We’re done. You won, match over.”

  I jump to my feet. “No, it’s not.” I’m practically snarling, my teeth bared. “Come at me again.”

  He glares at me, dark eyes narrowing. “No.”

  “Oh, what, you scared I’ll still beat you even if you throw everything you’ve got at me?” Yeah, I’ll admit it’s a bit of a low blow, but I don’t care. “Scared you’ll be your big, bad self and I’ll still win? I guess if you pull your punches with me, you can always tell yourself that you let me win. That you’re actually still the best. I see how it is.”

  Dmitri storms over to me, getting right in my face. “I can and I will kick your ass if you really are that desperate for it, Sinclair.”

  “Ooh, using my last name, scary,” I shoot back. “Come on, stop cutting me slack. Would you want me to cut you any? Huh? How come you get to be all angsty and surly, and I have to be the delicate invalid who can’t be pushed too hard or she might break? Fuck that.”

  “Fine!” Dmitri takes a few steps back and drops into his fighting stance. All around us, our classmates are staring. They’re used to Dmitri and me being intense, but not like this.

  “Good. Now come at me!” I snarl, dropping into my own low stance. “And this time, fight like you actually mean it.”

  My heart is pounding hard in my chest, my muscles tense and ready as I focus on his broad-shouldered form and scarily beautiful face, tuning out everything else around us.

  Asshole thinks he can give me some weird, twisted form of protection by not fighting me like an equal, then make out with me whenever he feels like it, but he won’t actually open up to me or tell me anything or—

  Oookay… so maybe I have some resentment I need to work through here.

  And I’m going to work through it by kicking Dmitri’s ass to kingdom come.

  We launch ourselves at each other, and I catch a glimpse of Asher literally wincing as everyone in the room hears the loud smack of our bodies hitting each other. Someone—Cam, I think—is shouting for us to knock it off, and then I hear Professor Tamlin asking what’s going on, and several cheers from people who’ve taken sides in this.

  Dmitri really isn’t letting me off easy now, and I appreciate it—but it also reminds me how evenly matched we really are. Goddamn, winning this is going to be hard. Hi
s punches fucking hurt. But I’m dealing mine right back at him, and I’m landing some damn good blows if I do say so myself.

  It’s all a whirl, instinct taking over as my body moves without thought—which is a good thing, that’s how it should be when you fight. You should know the moves so intuitively that you don’t even have to think about them anymore, because the second you stop to think is the second your opponent beats you.

  The thing is though, Dmitri and I are also fucking pissed at each other.

  I want him to feel every goddamn blow, and I’m not pulling my punches either—if he wants to think I’m weak, then I’ll show him who the damn weak one is. And Dmitri’s probably going harder than he even would normally just because he wants to prove something right back to me. We’re furious, and I don’t know if I want to kill him or fuck him or some combination of both, honestly.

  It doesn’t help that our bodies are pressed up against each other, that my leg twists over his, around his waist, that he’s grabbing me, that his mouth is so close to mine, his hands everywhere on my body, and honestly, I could just fucking scream from the tension that’s pent up inside me.

  The way he’s looking at me… Everyone in the goddamn room has to see it, right? I’m not crazy? Would it be too much to ask that he admit he likes me?

  Or maybe he doesn’t like me as a person and just wants—to fuck me—which would—be—fine—if he—would just—admit it!

  We both go crashing to the floor, rolling, and Dmitri gets on top of me with my arms over my head, pinned. “There! Will you actually fucking look after yourself now?” he grunts, his face a mask of fury, his dark eyes flashing with heat.

  “That depends. Are you gonna stop treating me like I’ll break? Oh, wait, that might mean you have to admit you care, God forbid.” I hook my foot around his ankle and use the momentum to flip him so now I’m on top.

  Dmitri glares up at me. “What, just because I don’t want to see you sick and exhausted again makes me the bad guy? Just because I don’t want to lose you to a coma for another three months? That makes me an asshole?”