The Keep (The Watchers #4)

The Keep (The Watchers #4) Page 23

But when I entered the gym, I almost spun and walked right back out.

Ronan had beat me there. What was with him lurking everywhere all of a sudden? I wanted to leave, but there was no turning back. The place was empty, and he’d spotted me the moment the metal door screeched open. His head swung up, those haunted eyes meeting mine.

I gave him a tight nod.

He gave me a tight nod back. Well, as good as one could nod while on the mat doing—what was he doing?—alternating one-armed push-ups?

Wow.

He stood, mopped his face. Approached. His navy blue T-shirt was almost black with sweat—it clung to a particularly muscular bit of his chest, to a muscle in his upper arm.

My eyes shot to his. His gaze didn’t budge from mine, and though there wasn’t warmth there, it wasn’t cold either. It was like he was waiting. Questioning.

Did he think I’d come to the gym looking for him?

Had I come looking for him? He was always here, after all.

No. I hadn’t come for Ronan or any guy. I’d come to work out. To get strong.

Though, now that we were both here, I knew what I had to do. When I’d last seen him, I’d casually chatted about Carden-this and Carden-that, when I knew how he felt about vampires…. Or were his strong feelings reserved for my vampire in particular? Either way, I owed him an apology.

I realized neither of us had spoken and it was about to get weird, so I slung my coat and bag onto the bleachers and said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said back.

Uncomfortable silence.

I looked around the gym, hoping for a distraction. Maybe some jerky Trainee would come and interrupt us. Or another Initiate would come bitch at us about something. But, aside from a Guidon I’d seen go into the locker room, there was nobody.

I girded myself. “Look, I’m sorry about…you know…”

Wait. What was I sorry for? For talking about one of the few residents of this godforsaken island who actually cared about me? Why was I supposed to apologize, exactly?

Before I could go too far down that path, he surprised me. “It’s I who should be sorry.”

I gave him a startled look. “It is?”

“I shouldn’t have reacted as I did. You’re just trying to survive. In the only way you know how. I understand.”

Now he really had thrown me. “You do?”

“This place has a way of stealing a person’s humanity. When you—” He stopped abruptly, and his eyes sharpened, narrowing in on my arm. “What happened?”

The bruises hadn’t yet formed when I was in my room, but they were there now. The Trainees must’ve hurt me worse than I’d realized. I flexed my right hand and arm. My wrist was the real problem—it didn’t look as bad as the flowery purple marks sprouting on my biceps, but it was way more tender. “Yeah, ow.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Your question,” I repeated flatly. What happened…? There was no avoiding it. He’d hear about it eventually. “Yas and his friends decided to have some fun with me.” I cringed to avoid the sudden wash of emotion. The topic was too painful—losing Yasuo’s friendship hurt more than any sprain.

I brushed it off and abruptly strode to the back of the gym where we kept things like tape and chalk. “Where’s the tape?” I asked coolly. “I think I should wrap up this wrist.”

“You must keep yourself safe,” he snapped, following close on my heels.

“Here it is.” I snagged one of the rolls of athletic tape and used my teeth to tear off a strip.

“I warned you against this.”

I met his eyes. “Look, it’s not like I wanted to get manhandled by a bunch of guys with mini-fangs.”

“You must avoid walking alone as much as possible.”

I knew he hadn’t intended his comment to hurt, but it had nonetheless. “Whom do you recommend I walk with?”

There was a steadiness in his presence that told me he’d registered how my wounds were more than skin deep. “Then you should do all you can to avoid such situations,” he amended gently. “How was it they were able to corner you?”

I didn’t look at Ronan, but I felt him, his attention heavy and silent at my back. He may have understood my pain, but still, he was waiting for an explanation. I guessed it meant he cared, but it gave me an epiphany: Sometimes it was easier when nobody cared.

“I guess I’m still getting used to the fact that my former best friend wants me dead.” I tried to wrap the tape around my wrist, but my trembling fingers managed only to attach the tape to itself. “Dammit.”

I ripped off another strip to try again, but Ronan took it from me. “Let me,” he said gently. Slowly, he wound strips of white tape around my wrist. Between my fingers. Around my palm. The rhythmic movements—rip, wrap…rip, wrap—lulled me. Calmed me. “I didn’t realize how deeply this situation with Yasuo had hurt you.” His voice was suddenly husky. Hoarse.

The sound of his concern made my throat tight. “I’d say the whole thing bums me out, yeah.” I didn’t have the guts to meet his eye. Instead, I let his hands mesmerize me. They were guy’s hands. Strong, clean, and broad. Not pale and immaculate vampire hands. Just dinged-up, weathered guy’s hands.

He adjusted, and I realized he’d stopped working. He needed to rip off more tape, but I’d held on to his fingers for a beat too long. I held my breath as—I couldn’t help it—my gaze met his.

Those forest-green eyes burned into me.

I felt slack in my limbs. Warmth tingled up my legs. Did Ronan know what I was feeling? Surely Carden was out there somewhere, knowing I felt these sensations.

Wasn’t my vampire jealous? Apparently not enough to appear. It made me feel abandoned…cut loose and flapping in the breeze.

I let go of Ronan’s hand, and he continued with the tape. Had I imagined our connection just then? Carden’s absence had cracked something deep inside me, a tiny hairline fissure apparently wide enough to let one or two traitorous thoughts steal past. Because, while Ronan was in his own world, focused on wrapping my injury, I found myself focusing on his long black lashes. His skin was darker on the very bridge of his nose, probably from all that surfing. I drifted back to his hands. His movements were so sure. What else could his hands—

I froze, reminding myself what else those hands were capable of. Their hypnotic touch. How they could convince me to do things I didn’t want to do. How they’d convinced me to come to this island.

I pulled away abruptly, smoothing the tape down along my forearm. “I can finish.”

Needless to say, my workout was performed in a daze. I think I did circuit training and some kettlebell work, but who knew? My damp shirt could just as easily have been the result of a cold sweat.

Ronan…there had been something between us this time. I’d imagined it in the past, but tonight I’d felt it, the brush of his fingers like an electric pulse. Or was it? Maybe it was just him using his powerful touch on me.

But he couldn’t fake the expression in his eyes. I’d caught it. Something seeking as he’d looked at me. And wow, how I’d felt something in return. A sensation in my gut, like loosening and tightening all at the same time.

So, now, really, where was Carden? Because he always appeared when I got those feelings—though usually it was after midnight and I was dreaming of him. But still, he always showed up when I felt this achy wanting feeling. If he were going to appear, now was the time.

But no vampire. Just me.

Alone again.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I got back to the dorm, my mood even worse than it was before. My roommate hadn’t turned to say hello as I’d come in, of course. She just nodded and made a hmph sound. “Hello, Frost,” I said to her back, enunciating the words.

What was her problem? In class, she practically did backflips to get attention, but when it was just the two of us, she treated me like I was contagious. Why would she want to shut me out so thoroughly? I mean, she clearly had a lot of problems—that stuff she told us in class was seriously messed up.

I decided to take a risk and said, “That was some intense story you told in class. I was sorry to hear you went through all that.”

Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t stop me, which I took as a good sign, so I continued. “I’ve had some issues, too. With Rob.” For an instant, I even considered telling her about the fang incident, but I feared it’d be too much. I was curious to hear her story, but it didn’t mean I trusted her yet. “Some of those guys are such jerks,” I said, because that was obvious, right? Safe territory. “And I don’t get what the rules are,” I added. Her silence emboldened me, and I decided to go a little further. “Like, can we fight back? What happens if we do? I think I’m going to try.”

She still hadn’t turned around, but I could tell she was considering my every word, and just when I thought she was going to confide in me, she said instead, “I’m working on my dialects project. I bet you forgot yours. It’s due tomorrow.”

Jeez, we couldn’t even talk about getting mauled by a couple of asshole boys? Was everyone on this island so completely and irrevocably damaged?

“Right,” I said flatly. We were in the same Old Norse Dialects class, which, if you’re Frost, is clearly more important than the completely screwed-up gender conflicts happening in this place. “The project.” I had completely forgotten, but there was no way I was telling her that.

My panicked mind was fumbling for some explanation—and a solution, too, because crap! I needed to devise and complete a project by tomorrow—when she announced, “I saw the runes on your desk.”

Double crap. I’d returned the rubbing to its hiding spot with my mom’s picture, but in my dumb wallowing state, I’d forgotten about my scratch sheet of paper.

I dropped into my desk chair to look at those runes, my mind racing for an explanation. It couldn’t be so bad, right? There wasn’t anything wrong with having some random runes on my desk. It wasn’t illegal, not like having a photo of my mother. And thank God I’d stowed that away.