A warrior.
I opened my lips to argue.
John pressed his hand harder against my mouth so I couldn’t say anything.
“You will not sacrifice yourself because you think you’re saving me,” he said roughly.
I shook my head.
Tried to tell him with my eyes that we couldn’t do this. That I didn’t want to. That it wasn’t worth it. To hell with the gods. He meant more to me than a little crucifixion.
John slowly leaned forward and pressed his mouth against my ear.
Underneath the sweat, copper, fear, and pain was the familiar rich scent of sandalwood. I breathed in deeply.
Even with the buzzing in my ear, John was so close that there was no mistaking what he said. “It won’t change anything between us, and I promise I consent. The only question is whether you’re okay to do this. If you want to refuse and fight the gods, then I’ll fight beside you. But don’t you dare refuse because you think you’re protecting me.”
He pulled back and flashed a dimple.
At that moment, I wished I could cry.
I wanted to sob.
John gently pushed matted curls off my forehead, his expression tender.
I kept expecting him to do his Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde routine and go quiet on me. Instead, he just kept smiling down at me like he’d do anything I asked.
He wrapped his arms around me and pressed me against his chest in a warm hug.
I squeezed him back with all my might as I trembled.
Who offered to defy the gods for their friend?
My body shook desperately.
I didn’t deserve him.
We knelt together on the grass.
“I’m willing to…” I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. “But everyone’s watching,” I whispered weakly as I glanced back at the stands.
I blinked to clear my fuzzy vision; the entire academy was staring at where we knelt. Watching us.
The three kings stood closest, on the edge of the arena, with scowls on their face.
Scorpius had his eyes open, but his knees were bent, and the other kings were holding him upright.
“You’re nothing but a dirty whore. I always knew there was nothing good about you. You’re more damned than me.” Mother laughed as she snapped her fingers. The world exploded into blue flames that hurt but didn’t burn.
I squeezed John tighter to me.
If only Mother could see me now.
My life was unfolding just like she’d predicted. Was it all just one big morbid self-fulfilling prophecy?
Existence was a cosmic joke, and I wasn’t strong enough to survive it.
As I knelt in the center of the arena, clinging to John, I prayed for the haze to return. Prayed it would fast-forward time and make everything a fuzzy blur. Wished desperately for reality to become muddled.
I scrunched my eyes shut and waited.
Seconds passed, but it felt like years.
The haze never came.
I was hyperaware of every breath that expanded in my friend’s chest. The way his fingers traced circles against my back. The warmth that radiated off him.
I opened my eyes and whispered brokenly, “I can’t do this with so many people watching us.”
As I stared at the crowd, my shaking became full-body convulsions.
On the edge of the arena, Scorpius said something to Malum.
Even from afar I could see that Malum’s expression hardened as he looked at his mate, then looked at me.
He nodded.
Flames exploded.
I flinched back, and John jumped beside me, but the scalding pain never came.
The temperature skyrocketed.
It took my trauma-racked brain a second to realize that it wasn’t my mother’s flames playing in my imagination.
A tangible wall of red fire burned in the center of the field and formed a circle around John and me. It towered at least ten feet into the air.
No one could see us.
I tightened my grip around John’s neck.
Malum had given us privacy.
The pressure behind my eyes intensified. No tears fell. My heart cracked with pain as the heat warmed my sweat-soaked skin.
A part of me was grateful for the privacy, but a larger part was terrified because there were no excuses left.
The pressure on my chest became a mountain.
It felt like I was dying.
John pulled me flush against his body and our hearts beat against each other.
Friend cradled friend.
Soft lips trailed across my blood-soaked neck. John kissed me gingerly like I was made of glass. Precious.
He fingered a bloody curl with his red stained fingers.
We bled the same.
“I’ll take care of you, Aran, I promise,” he whispered reverently as he touched me like he wanted to.
Streaks of pain lanced across my spine.
“Do it quickly, please,” I begged, hyperconscious that the more pleasure he gave me, the more pain I’d experience.
If we were going to do this, it needed to be quick.
I knew what was to come. It was going to be agonizing.
I trailed my fingers down the outside of John’s tight black shirt, and the ridges of his stomach muscles tensed beneath my fingers. I paused when I neared his waist.
Sun god, I can’t do this.
John kissed along my jawline and nibbled at the sensitive skin. Spots blinded my vision.
Then his lips pressed against mine.
They parted.
He exhaled softly, the minty taste of his toothpaste familiar and welcoming.
His tongue swept forward, and I opened wider.
Callused hands cradled my face like I was precious. The softness of his kiss made my head spin.
It was like we were kissing away our last breaths.
My tongue swept tentatively against his, and he groaned into my mouth like I’d done something horribly wanton.
His thumbs swept up and down over my cheekbones. He traced the outline of my eyes, and my lashes fluttered against his fingers.
The ringing in my ears intensified, and everything became clearer as pleasure and pain spiked in concert. The world was crisp around me.
A wall of fire danced around us.
The flames warmed the chilly air and made the temperature comfortable.
John kept tracing his fingers across my eyelids like he was caressing a lover. Like we weren’t faking it for a competition. Like he adored me.
He kissed me passionately.
The urge to cry intensified.
“Please, quickly,” I begged and fisted his shirt.
John’s hands trailed downward to my waistband, and they lingered on my lower belly. I made a noise in the back of my throat as I wanted something I’d never known.
Can he tell I have no idea what I’m doing?
My ears rang.
My vision clouded.
John breathed roughly as he spanned his hands across my lower waist and gripped me tightly.
Pain and pleasure lit my neurons.
Losing your virginity was supposed to be painful, but this seemed like another level of hell.
John yanked and he tore the front of my pants so they hung off my hips. Since there’d been no underwear in my cubby this morning, I was fully exposed before him.
John stared down at me with his pupils blown.
He grabbed my hips, and he made a low noise in the back of his throat, something between a growl and a moan.
I buried my face against his neck.
Unable to look at him.
Was it weird that I had blue curls? Didn’t men want their women fully shaved?
I was embarrassed. Ashamed. Afraid.
Fingers tipped my chin up so I couldn’t hide.