Fallen University: Year Three

“Yes. So. Make it a point to learn all you can. You will find your class schedules in your rooms. Dismissed.”

We all headed back to our rooms in a sort of stunned silence.

It felt like we’d been condemned to a sort of limbo. Things would continue on as normal for now, but the normalcy was just an illusion. We were criminals awaiting conviction, and just because our sentence hadn’t been handed down yet, that didn’t mean it was going to be any lighter when it did come.

But at least we hadn’t been punished yet. At least we had a small reprieve, a chance to breathe and study and fucking shower for the first time in way too long.

That was the first thing I did, actually. And afterward, I sat on my bed in the room I shared with Hannah and told her more about what’d happened. She sat next to me, resting her head on my shoulder and occasionally lifting it to stare at me in shock over something I said. But mostly, she just listened in silence.

Then she filled me in on how things had been at school, although there was less to say about that. All the students had been well aware of our absence, and rumors had flown around like angry sprites, a new story popping up every week about where we’d gone and why.

None of the stories sounded good, even though I was sure Hannah tried to spin them in the most positive way she could.

Exhaustion was finally starting to hit me, weighing down my eyelids until it was a struggle to keep them open. Hannah went to get dinner, but I told her I wasn’t hungry.

It wasn’t exactly true, and I knew she knew it. But I wasn’t ready to have to act like things were totally normal. I wasn’t ready to face the stares of all the other students.

She gave me a hug and then slipped out of the room, and

I lay down on my bed, trying to let sleep pull me under.

It wouldn’t come though. No matter how hard I pressed my eyes shut, no matter how often I reminded myself how tired I was, my brain refused to shut off.

It didn’t take me too long to realize why. I could feel the pull in my middle, as if a string was connected to the spot right behind my stomach, tugging at me gently. I had been highly attuned to that pull for weeks, following it everywhere it led, and I followed it again as it drew me toward the one thing I wanted right now.

Xero.

Our escape from Gavriel’s fortress had been so chaotic, and between leaving Michael’s house and getting hauled into Toland’s office, I hadn’t had a chance to truly reconnect with my bond-mate.

To make sure he was okay.

To offer him my love and support if he wasn’t.

And honestly, how could he be? I had seen the state he’d been in when we’d found him in the fortress dungeon. He had been kept prisoner for weeks, tortured and put through hell, kept alive as a tool for Gavriel to use and nothing more.

I needed to see Xero.

Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I rose and padded quickly to the door. It’d been weeks since I’d walked the path, but I still remembered the route to Xero’s room by heart.

As I neared his room, the tug in my middle grew stronger, practically dragging me down the hallway as if it could sense how close I was. But when I lifted my hand to knock, I froze suddenly.

Should I do this?

What if he needed space? Time alone to recover from what he’d been through?

Xero had been through a lot of shit in his lifetime. More than I had, that was for damn sure, and my life hadn’t exactly been sunshine and roses. I wanted to help him, but I was suddenly struck by a fear that I wouldn’t know how to.

I just need to see him. To make sure he’s still whole and alive. To make sure I didn’t dream all of that. Then I can go.

My heart slammed hard against my ribs as I knocked twice, and I heard the soft sound of footsteps before Xero opened the door.

He had showered too, and he’d thrown on a fresh tunic and a pair of pants. His feet were bare, and although his dark skin still bore a myriad of scars and some fading bruises, his face wasn’t quite as sallow and gaunt as it had looked when we’d found him in the underworld. The warm, comforting smell of fire wafted from his skin, and it took everything in me not to grab him and bury my face in his chest, to breathe him in until I couldn’t hold any more air in my lungs.

“Piper.” His eyes warmed slightly, but his face remained taut and strained. “What are you doing here?”

The thin veneer of control holding me back snapped, and I gave in to the primal, overwhelming need to be close to him. In two steps, I was pressed against him, my softer body molding to the hard planes of his as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.

It was a kiss of homecoming, of binding and affirmation. A kiss that could’ve gone on forever, slow and deep and consuming.