Page 145 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One
I must have been too tired from the sex to dare dream, but I’m not acknowledging that right now.
Either way, this constant bullying is triggering my PTSD a lot harder than I would have expected, and that’s never good.
God…I’ll start summoning ghosts. Heck, let me summon the dead that can bitch slap this Thaddeus fucker.
Just about three hours and this all will be done for another day.
But three hours feels like an eternity when your body is screaming for blood, your bond mates are forced to ignore you, and every asshole with something to prove wants to test your limits.
"Come on, Gabriel," Thaddeus taunts, drawing my name out like it's something dirty. "Show us what you've got. Prove you deserve to be here."
If they only knew.
The thought almost makes me laugh. Here they are, testing my worth, when I've already done what none of them could – survived a trial that hadn't been conquered in fifty years, which is a big fucking deal in my books.
I take pride in being able to release those souls, even if they don’t understand or grasp that part.
Like they would even give a hoot.
But of course, they can't accept that. Can't handle the idea that someone they've deemed inferior might actually be stronger than they are.
Another wave of dizziness hits, stronger this time. The hunger is becoming impossible to ignore, a burning need that threatens to overwhelm my carefully maintained control.
I need to leave.
Need to find blood before this situation becomes dangerous.
But standing now, retreating under their mockery, will only make tomorrow worse.
This game has no winning moves.
The bond marks pulse again, more urgently this time. They can sense my deteriorating condition, even if they can't acknowledge it publicly.
I risk another glance at them, catching the barely perceptible tension in Cassius's shoulders, the way Nikolai's fingers grip his water glass just a little too tightly.
They're suffering too.Watching this, unable to intervene, probably feels like torture to them.
The thought should provide some comfort, but it only adds to my frustration. What kind of system forces bonds to pretend they don't exist? Forces protectors to watch their mate suffer?
A wicked one.Hence the name.
Then again, that’s why there’s no females here.
No way would a female last with this torment. I’m barely lasting after three days. Does this even count as three? Two and a half…ugh. My head hurts so bad.
More food flies my way – apparently, my prolonged silence has inspired them to try harder for a reaction. I dodge most of it, but some lands on my already stained uniform.
The smell of spoiled food mingles with the thundering heartbeats around me, creating a nauseating symphony that makes my stomach roll. Blood hunger combined with regular hunger is bad enough – add in the growing migraine and it's a recipe for disaster.
I have to get out of here. Now.
But as I start to rise, Thaddeus's hand lands heavily on my shoulder, forcing me back down.
"Leaving so soon?" he asks, voice dripping with false concern. "But we're just getting started."
The contact sends a jolt through me, every instinct screaming to break his arm.
"I gotta piss," I declare dryly, fixing Thaddeus with a glare. "Want me to do it in your mouth? Since I know you like it nice and deep down your throat."
