Page 45 of Revenant

Instead, I’ve been keeping it contained, bottled up in a jar that only breaks open when I lay my head down at night.

“Well, you’re not going anywhere dressed like that,” she muses, pulling out a dress and tights. I open my Pop-Tart defiantly. Moriah points at me; eyebrows raised in surprise. “You better not.”

I pop a piece in my mouth without shame.

Moriah rolls her eyes, looking slightly defeated. “This is so stupid. Whatever happened—I’m not going to pry and let you tell me on your own terms—don’t let it ruin the rest of the year.” But she doesn’t know it’s not just this year. It’s every single one after that too—well after I’m free from the cage they put me in. I could probably leave. There’s nothing stopping me, not really. With how they’ve all been avoiding me, I’m sure I could slip away without notice.

It’s not like they could come after me.

I plop onto my bed, pulling my books in front of me, acting as though I’m going to study. Truthfully, that’s all I’ve been doing—throwing myself into school work. I have assignments from next week already completed, and a project that’s due at the end of the term almost done.

Turns out when you don’t have five annoying, infuriating, yet gorgeous men distracting you, you can get a lot done.

“Get dressed,” she demands, tossing the clothes onto my lap and confiscating my study materials. Guilt gnaws at my insides because Moriah’s been here. Not going out, turning down dates—though I’m not entirely convinced that part is for me…or because it wasn’t Koen asking. I guess the least I can do is have lunch with her and join the living. Or mostly living.

“Can I go like this?”

“Not a chance.” She beams, though, taking my question as a yes. My shoulders slump, accepting defeat.

“I’m not fixing my makeup,” I barter.

She waves a hand as if she wasn’t even going to suggest it. “Please, that setting spray could last you through a war.” We both laugh, and it feels good. Quickly, I get dressed and try to convince myself the guys won’t be there. It’s not like they can eat anything on the menu, anyway.

When we arrive, the mess hall is as lively as ever. And I find myself subconsciously searching the crowd.

“Hey.” Moriah grabs my hand, stopping my fingers from picking and pulling my attention back to her. “We’ll get something to eat and be amongst our peers. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Besides, if Pryce is here, you can show him exactly what he’s missing.”

Pryce. Right. Because she thinks this is only about him. Moriah assumes Pryce and I had a falling out, which means the rest of the guys wouldn’t be around either. I let her think whatever her mind wants to conjure up—it’s not like she’s entirely wrong.

We grab our trays; Moriah fills hers with anything she can get her hands on. Meanwhile, I bypass a BLT and snag a pre-made Cobb salad.

Moriah canvases the room, spotting a table in the back, and we make a beeline for it. Before we reach the table, she stops in her tracks, grabbing my arm as she holds her tray in the other. “Oh my god. It’s him.”

I look around but don’t see anyone I recognize. “Sorry, who are we looking at?”

She pulls me closer, and I nearly lose my tray. “Him. From the library…and the bonfire. Come on, Calder, keep up.”

I shake my head with her ridiculousness. “Go talk to him.”

Moriah rolls her eyes playfully. “I don’t chase.”

Moriah leads the way to the table, and once we settle in, it feels more manageable. I hate that this situation has such an effect on me, that I can’t leave my dorm without the soul-sucking feeling that I could run into any of them. The first day of their absence I thought they were just giving me space, even the second. But on the third day, I tried going up to Elias, and he completely blew me off, and I knew then that they weren’t.

Moriah’s body tenses, her eyes tracking something across the room. I turn to look, but she grabs my hand, effectively calling my attention back to her. “I’m going to need you to breathe. It could literally be nothing,” she says, high-pitched with a wide smile. Too wide. And when I look, I wish I hadn’t. It’s like someone gut punched me. It’s an adverse reaction, and I simply can’t control it.

Pryce walks in, making his way toward the group I wish I hadn’t noticed, wearing a smile I thought he kept just for me. A girl hangs off his arm, dark hair spilling down her back in effortless waves, her tawny skin warm against his. I can’t stop staring, can’t shake the itch of her familiarity. As if she feels it, she turns. Her hazel eyes sweep the tables until they land on mine.

The room tilts, pulling me into the abyss that opens up to swallow me whole. A coy smile spreads over her lips as Sage tracks me up and down. This…isn’t possible. The girl who is now acting like she doesn’t have a care in the world, died a week ago. Drained of blood in the basement of whatever bullshit initiation they put us through. I personally watched as her life left her eyes, fueling Eryx as he got his fill.

My gaze jerks to Pryce. Whatever smile he wore is gone, sliding off his face like wet paint. For one breath he looks genuinely sorry—apologetic as if he wanted me to see this some other way. Then Sage shifts against his arm, her attention snapping toward a passing student a beat too sharply, and then his focus is gone, all of it redirected to her.

Bastian’s already on his feet, bringing a fist down on the table hard enough to rattle trays, drawing stares he doesn’t acknowledge, and is gone before anyone can ask. Pryce guides Sage into a seat with a palm to her back, murmuring something low I can’t make out. She ignores the seat entirely and folds herself into his lap instead, throwing me a look over her shoulder.

Pryce doesn’t glance at me again. He’s too busy watching her.

I should feel hurt. Part of me is—a small stupid part that let him carry my suitcase and bring me coffee, but it’s drowned out by the bigger picture, he’s a liar.

“Let’s go,” Moriah whispers, already gathering her tray of half-eaten food.