Ever My Merlin (Book 3, My Merlin Series) (29 page)

Students streamed into class and took their seats seconds before the bell. Grey slipped into a seat beside me. Our history teacher hurried to her desk. Back from maternity leave, she didn’t look as if she’d gotten more than a few hours of sleep. The bell rang. One last student walked in.

Matt Emrys.

His sudden appearance instigated a new wave of whispering across the room.

“They let him out?” someone hissed beside me.

“I heard he got a lot of therapy,” another girl replied.

Someone giggled. “Does he still think he’s Merlin?”

Ramanajan sighed. “I wonder if that means Coach Vane is back, too.”

I watched Matt move with controlled grace to the teacher’s desk.

“Matt? You’re back,” Ms. Bedevere said happily.

He handed Ms. Bedevere a slip of paper. His rolling accent washed over the room. “Just returned.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ms. Bedevere said, all smiles. “You look so… fit.”

Wearing his usual jeans and T-shirt, he modeled both as biker and hippie professor. Instead of his usual shaggy hair, though, he styled the brown locks so they emphasized the lean slant of his high cheekbones. His jaw looked freshly shaven. He hadn’t looked this neat at the UN meeting.

A boy in front of Grey commented, “Those padded, white rooms make nice getaways.”

Grey kicked his chair. “You should know, Joey.”

Matt’s gaze zeroed in on me. He walked to an empty seat on the other side of Christine. At the front of the class, Ms. Bedevere went to the chalkboard and started writing. My pocket vibrated as I got a text on my cell phone. It was a new one from Sylvia. As far as I knew, only she and Grey had the number. I snuck a look at the screen. The text listed a blocked number.

You should be resting.

I glanced at Matt. Sure enough, he’d snuck out his phone and was typing away.

A second text buzzed.
You look hot.

I wondered briefly if he’d been body snatched. I stared at the words, unable to make sense of the sentence.
Hot?
I didn’t even know the word existed in Matt’s vocabulary.

I wrote back.
What are you doing here?

An answer zinged back.
Couldn’t leave you alone on your birthday.

My head jerked up. A calendar next to the chalkboard confirmed what I had forgotten. Eighteen. Happy birthday to me. I snuck another glance at Matt’s profile while he played with his phone. He’d remembered.

As if sensing my gaze, his head turned and his eyes caught mine. A certain glint in them left my throat parched. With unsteady fingers, I thrust my phone deep into my pocket, although I felt its heavy weight at my side.

“World War II. Last week we started the final section we will be covering before the end of the year. Today, I’d like to start off with a quote from your readings.” An open book in her hand, she pointed to the words she’d written on the chalkboard. “‘
Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.
’ November 1942. Who knows who said this? Matt?”

Matt didn’t reply, but returned to fiddling with his phone.

Ms. Bedevere waved to get his attention. “Matt, do you know who said this quote?”

Matt focused on her with visible effort. “Ah, what?”

Ms. Bedevere’s smile dimmed. “It’s all right, Matt. You probably need a few days to catch up.”

Matt’s gaze fell on the chalkboard. “Winston Churchill.”

Ms. Bedevere beamed at the reemergence of her star student. Then, she started lecturing. The rest of the class passed quickly, primarily because I kept glancing at Matt. He spent most of the time fiddling with his phone. Twice, Ms. Bedevere noticed his covert actions and reprimanded him. Twice, he blasted her with such charm she became flustered and began averting her eyes from his general direction.

As soon as the bell rang, students rushed out of class. Matt didn’t wait for me. I hustled to catch up with him in the hallway. Luckily, his attention still glued to the phone, he wasn’t walking too fast. I came up behind him, and used my crutch to block his path.

He stumbled, grabbing me to regain his balance. The action tugged at my stomach and I let out a pained gasp. He released me quickly. I wobbled and dropped a crutch. He picked it up, but didn’t return it. Instead, an arm slipped around my shoulders to steady me. The touch, surprisingly conscientious, made my pulse skitter.

He pocketed his phone. “I’m beginning to think you like pain.”

“No, but I don’t mind things a little rough.” My bare knee brushed his leg.

Desire shot through his eyes. He muttered, “Ryan.”

Ryan.
I looked into pretty amber eyes in confusion. I was sure the boy standing in front of me was not Matt, but Vane never called me Ryan. I leaned closer, debating whether to glare at him or rub my cheek against the soft jersey T-shirt clinging to his chest. A spark of raw desire lit up his eyes, causing my knees to knock together.

Okay, forget intimidation. Seduction was way better.
I said throatily, “I thought you’d be holed up all day at the manor doing research.”

“I remembered something during our last sojourn to the library. I came to see it.”

“Why did you go to history, then?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress a smile. “Did you miss high school?”

“I simply wanted to remember what’s its like to be in a place where you have all your possibilities in front of you.”

“Uh-huh.” I didn’t believe him. He had fun here. I could tell from his voice.

He made an irritated sound and grabbed my crutch. His arm around my shoulder propelled me forward. We went up a short flight of stairs and down another hallway that led to the front of the building. Decorations and glittery signs advertised various clubs and activities. One banner shouted out at me. It was the same one I’d seen in my head when I came out of Elysium. The one I focused on when the Minotaur was attacking—correction: saving—me. Prom Tickets on sale now! With a black marker, someone had scribbled underneath, “Still available! Best Prom at ACH ever!!”

I must have stared at the banner for too long because Doppelganger-Matt waved a hand in front of my face. He asked flippantly, “Dreaming of ball gowns and flirty dances?”

I kept a straight face. “More like mini-dresses and dirty dances.”

Doppelganger-Matt’s cheeks puffed. He halted in the middle of the hallway and turned to look down at me. “Is that why you’re wearing that minuscule skirt?”

Miniscule?
I smoothed down my skirt even though the hem fell just above my knee—close enough for regulation length. Maybe it wasn’t such a bright idea to wear a skirt while hopping around on a crutch, but after Sri Lanka—I had no desire to pull on cargos for a long time. Besides, May was one of only three months in Boston when I could wear something that wasn’t seven layers thick.

Doppelganger-Matt smirked at the self-conscious reaction. I stopped fighting with the skirt and decided to play. Putting my hand on his waist as if to steady myself, I fluttered my lashes. “Maybe I’m wearing it to get a date. Know anyone who’d want to… dance with me?”

His eyes narrowed. The bell rang. Students rushed into class around us.

I pushed away from him and reached for my crutch. “Time to go.”

“I don’t think so.” He caught my wrist, his brows set in a deep V across his forehead. Before I could do more than squeak, he picked me up, as the crutch swung wildly in the air.

“W-what are you doing?” I sputtered.

“Calling your bluff.” Doppelganger-Matt carried me a few steps to a closed door on the wall next to us. A placard on the door designated it as the student store. He leaned my back against the door as he twisted the knob. It opened. I felt pretty sure he used magic, but I didn’t see the telltale green spark to absolutely confirm him as Vane.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he kicked the door shut, flipped the light switch, and set me down. Under the dim yellow of a single overhead bulb, he stared at me. The student store was actually a converted walk-in closet. I leaned heavily on my crutch and listened to the loud sound of my labored breathing in the enclosed space.

Doppelganger-Matt’s eyes glittered with some unnamed emotion. From the rapid way his chest rose and fell, I couldn’t tell if he was simply pissed or far beyond pissed. Not that he had a real reason to be.

He said silkily, “So you want to dirty dance with Merlin?”

Merlin.
I almost laughed. His eyes may have been amber, but the green flame of jealousy couldn’t be hidden. Metaphorically and literally. At the thought, more nervous laughter bubbled up inside me. I tried to squelch it, but my lips twitched.

“Are you laughing at me?” Doppelganger-Matt scowled.

I giggled. “A little—”

I never finished the thought. He yanked me to him. I dropped the crutch. His mouth swooped down on mine. The kiss, layered with hunger, half-punished and half-begged. I tasted the rage of a turbulent ocean. Unlike Matt’s scent of fresh soap, Doppelganger-Matt wore cologne. Dark wood mingled with coarse tobacco—it was uniquely Vane. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on. Even though I responded, the kiss wasn’t gentle. He moved away from the door. Without breaking contact, he adjusted my legs to wrap around his waist and carried me a few feet to the cashier’s stand.

My pulse beating to the pounding rhythm of a DJ’s thumping dance mix, I tongued him with every ounce of breath I had. When he lifted his head, I moaned in protest.

His lips grazed the pulse throbbing at my neck. Teeth bit the spot lightly. “Do you know how badly I want you?”

He leaned away to reach under the cash register, yanking out a condom. My eyes went from the shiny wrapper to the shelf behind his head. Beside an array of candy bars, white notebook paper, and baseball hats, a baby’s bib hung from a hook. The words “AC High” had been embroidered on cute white terry cloth.

The fog of hormones clouding my brain evaporated, and it all became too real.

Doppelganger-Matt’s styled hair had become shaggy under the ministrations of my desperate fingers. Brown waves fell over his face. Still it was
Matt’s
face. Amber eyes,
Matt’s
amber eyes, locked on mine. But I didn’t want Matt.

Doppelganger-Matt pushed the hair back from my face. He traced the line of my jaw. Our lips met again in a gentle press. Not content, his mouth devoured mine. With a silent gasp, I closed my eyes and pictured Vane. His tongue explored my mouth sending little shivers of electricity through me. Heat pooled between my legs. My chest burrowed into his, strong arms tightened around me, arching me against him.

From the way my body throbbed for a release, I was tempted to allow the charade to continue. As messed up as it was, it would be so easy to let him pretend. Dealing with Monster-Vane was complicated. This way, we could ignore the problems between us. We could simply be a boy and girl.

My fingernails dug deep into his shoulders. The temptation was strong.

If I let him do this, it would only last for this fleeting moment in time. Not a bad thing. The end of the world was coming. I didn’t really want to die unloved. Yet, at the same time, I knew if we did this while he pretended to be Matt, we’d never recover. This twisted game wasn’t fair to us. It wasn’t fair to Matt.

And deep down, I still believed there would be more.

My fingernails detached from his shoulder. My legs let go of his waist.

I tore my mouth away.

Doppelganger-Matt blinked at the release.

Defensive shields rose and his lips curled into a sneer. “You were bluffing.”

Even if I had been, I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. “Tick-tock” the hands of a clock in the corner of the room chimed. I gambled, making my last play. I laid my palm on his chest, above the solid thump of his heart. “I’m not bluffing. I’m just not letting you get off so cheap. I should at least get some roses or dinner or something before my deflowering.”

I let the words sink in. Startled, he drew back. He raked a hand through brown hair and grinned sheepishly. “I forgot. How about that dance instead?”

I arched a brow. “Is this your way of asking me to Prom?”

He bristled. “It’s one week from now. I doubt you’ll get a better offer—”

“Will you please shut up?” I sighed. “My answer is yes.”

He stilled. “Good.”

“Good, you’re picking me up. I want a limo.” Actually, I could have cared less about a limo, but I did enjoy ordering him around.

“Fine,” he said in a husky tone. “I’ll even bring a corsage, if you bring the skirt.”

Translation.
You bring the sex.

For show, he took out a few more condoms from under the register.

I flushed at the sight of more plastic wrappers. “How did you know those were there?”

He stuck them in his pocket. “Kids talk.”

“They don’t talk to me,” I muttered.

Husky laughter soothed me. “Your reputation is too clean.”

“And yours isn’t?”

“I never claimed otherwise.” He glanced up. A small mirror hanging down from the ceiling (to keep an eye on potential shoplifters) reflected his face—Matt’s face. His expression shuttered at the glimpse of his appearance.

Mentally, I sighed.
Oh, the games we play.

 He pulled fully away from me and went to pick up my crutch, which had fallen near the door. I jumped down and tottered over to him. He thrust the steel crutch at me. “If you’re done distracting me, shall we proceed to the library?”

Without waiting for a reply, he stalked to the door. I saw him fumble with the doorknob, muttering curses under his breath. I watched him, chewing my lip, but not saying anything. Finally, the knob turned and he banged the door open. He hurried off down the hall.

I caught up a few minutes later. Down the hallway, around one turn, I found myself in front of the closed double doors of the library. As I struggled with one heavy door, it flew open. Doppelganger-Matt propped it open and pulled me inside with a look of exasperation. The musty scent of books hit me immediately. No one sat behind the high bar that enclosed the checkout area. Glancing around, I saw no one in the library. A low barrier of bookshelves separated a study area from bigger shelves extending from floor to ceiling that filled up the rest of the room. Not a soul roamed the stacks.