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remind me that I don’t need a big man stepping in to save me, but a random limb breaking might not be the best way to prove that I’m not a dark fae. Still, I resent Bron stepping in. How many times could I have used his help over the last few years? Where was he then?

I stop, and it forces him to stop too. “I don’t need your help.”

“Esmeray--”

“I mean it. This is my battle. Let me fight it.”

“Your battle?” His jaw clenches. “This shouldn’t be a battle. You’re a god damn child who just lost her brother and got sent to a place where you’re suddenly expected to jump into your brother’s shoes. There shouldn’t be a fucking battle. There should be a school full of people doing their best to make things easier for you.”

I shove him, and his eyes widen in surprise. “I was a child when you left. I was a child when you didn’t visit or call. But I’m not a fucking child now, and if you think for one second this place isn’t a battle ground for me, you need to grow up!”

Whirling on my heels, I’m shocked when he drags me back against him, breathing hard. “Your hands--”

“Thanks for that, but I don’t want or need your help again.”

Hurt reflects in those stunning hazel eyes of his for a second before fury replaces the hurt. “Don’t think I can’t sense the way you feel about me.”

“I can want you and hate you at the same time,” I say, jerking free from his touch.

His hand drops, and I sense him standing still as I leave the hall and head outside.

For a second I’m overwhelmed by emotions that don’t feel like mine: surprise, maybe even admiration, and arousal, before the emotions disappear. I glance back through the glass doors, but I can’t see him from where I stand. Were those his emotions pouring out? I push the thought aside. How he feels or doesn’t feel isn’t what matters. What matters is that I’ve learned more already.

My brother wasn’t the person I thought he was.

And Professor Ericson was most definitely added to my list of suspects.

It’s a start to unraveling the mystery of what happened. I only hoped I’d learn more, and soon. The anger and helplessness I was trying so damned hard to hide was like a volcano bubbling. I needed to find the person responsible for my brother’s death and unleash this fury on them, before it was too late.

Because as much as I wanted to pretend being a dark fae didn’t matter, there was a reason that people feared us.

10

Esmeray

It’s my last class of the day, and I’m fuming mad. Did Dwade really think after all these years I can’t tell when he lies? I can. The damn man doesn’t have to open his emotions to me, because I can read his feelings just as clearly on his face. And he was a man who rarely lied, so when he did, you could see it in his eyes.

The dagger hidden in a zippered area in my brother’s bag seems heavier as I march up the steps to my class and tear down the hall. I can feel concerned glances as I walk by. For some reason, I pause and look around. There are a dozen light fae hanging around, but every gaze is on me. When I stretch out my senses, I feel sickening waves of happiness followed by uncertainty. But what’s more, I’m pretty damn sure all of them are trying to sample the emotions I’m hiding.

I draw myself up taller and smile, then tear the wall down around my anger. A couple students stagger. I hear a couple of gasps, and the atmosphere changes from one of uncertainty to one of fear. My lip curls. That’s right, taste something other than your sunshine shit. Not everyone walks around with butterflies in their hair and glitter exploding from their asses.

Just as quickly as I lowered my wall, I yank it back up, then tear into the room, not caring that I’m leaving behind a hall full of people who probably feel like they’ve been punched in the gut. Every one of them is likely certain now that I’m a dark fae, but even their kind get angry, so that’s not proof of what I am. It just makes them nervous.

As I stomp into the room and snag a seat, I glance across the room and see that Lucian is already seated. He lifts a brow when I look at him, and I’m tempted to reach out and squeeze one of his organs. Not enough to hurt him, just enough to remind him that I could. Yeah, he saved me from that iron demon. Yeah, he looks like sex-on-a-stick, that dirty blond hair of his messy, unlike the other perfect fae. And that scruff of beard of his tempting to touch.

But I jerk my gaze away.

If Dwade knew what happened to my brother, if he was involved in what happened to my brother, Lucian was too.

I hated all of them for making me distrust them. Wasn’t it bad enough I didn’t trust this world or anyone in it? I had to be uncertain about them too?

A man enters the room a minute later. He’s old for a fae, with blond hair weaved with grey, large glasses, and an easy smile. Unlike most of our kind, he doesn’t seem confident as he yanks a pile of messy papers out of his bag and dumps them onto the table. He gives a watery smile to all of us, as more students trickle in and take their seats. The bell rings, and a couple of women walk in and give him sickly sweet smiles before sitting down.

I watch it all, intrigued. Biology and Science of the Supernatural was my last class of the day. After Professor Ericson, all my teachers had been professional and polite, but they seemed to look

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