Blood (The Grimm Cases Book 3) Page 3

  I couldn’t lose.

  A moment passed, and then it was him who looked away first. The pressure vanished, and I could breathe again. I slumped into my seat while my heart continued to pound. My skin felt gross from sweat.

  Stupid Bryce. Why was he so unnerving?

  He was frowning now, his glare turned toward the stack of papers in his hands. But then he cleared his throat. The frown turning into indifference. “All right, everyone,” he said finally, glancing around the rest of the room. “I hate to do this to you, but we have a pop quiz today, as per Dr. Hamway’s lecture plan.”

  His voice remained annoying, but it didn’t stop some girls in the front row from swooning. Why? I had no idea. I felt more like barfing, actually. And not because I feared failing. Far from it.

  But it was the point.

  Bryce Dubois was a formidable opponent. He was wiser and more cunning than I could have imagined. The sick feeling faded as I narrowed my eyes at the enemy, even though he ignored me. What was he plotting?

  How dare he trick me by telling me the truth. He had to have known I wouldn’t believe him.

  I continued to glare at him as the papers were passed around the room, and I barely turned my attention toward the quiz as I swiftly filled in my responses.

  He was challenging me. I couldn’t let my guard down or allow him to rest. He didn’t deserve a moment of reprieve.

  Meanwhile, he continued ignoring me. He sat at Processor Hamway’s desk, scribbling something—probably nonsense—into a notebook. And the longer I watched him work, the less pointy his face seemed. A little less annoying.

  Now that I was paying attention, even though I loathed him and everything about him, he might be considered attractive. Sure, he was the bane of my existence, but maybe he was even handsome—

  Bryce set down his pen and glanced up, and our eyes locked once again. There was a determination in his gaze that hadn’t been there previously. “Miss Brosnan,” he called, pulling the attention of the entire class to me, “have you finished with your quiz?”

  And there it was. His mouth. Any appeal instantly vanished, and he was demoted back to the level from whence he came. Where did he get the nerve to talk to me? He must have known I was under orders to avoid him.

  But then the red faded from my vision, and the knowledge that everyone was watching me began to process through the haze.

  My pulse raced as self-consciousness took over. I’d never been so embarrassed in my life. He’d asked me a question, and now I was the center of attention. “Yes…”

  “I’d like to see you after class.” Bryce turned away from me, resuming his writing. “Otherwise, if you’re quite done, work on your term paper.”

  I could almost feel the curious eyes on me now, my peers watching the exchange. And my face heated. The fact that Bryce had, once again, made me the center of attention—like Monday at lab—didn’t make me feel any kindlier toward him.

  I hated Bryce Dubois, and I couldn’t wait to fire him.

  Chapter Four

  Miles

  Grounded

  Class seemed to move more slowly than it had this morning. But despite that, I was doing an excellent job masking my impatience.

  “Mr. Montrone, might I ask what you are doing? It is distracting the class. Please, desist.” Ms. Protean paused in her lecture and pointed her knitting needle at me. “Your fidgeting is interrupting today’s seminar. You’ve caused enough disruption earlier—leaving in the middle of a discussion is quite rude. Surely there is nothing more exciting than our discussion of proper procedure for evidence submission.”

  I glanced at her, but didn’t respond. It had escaped my awareness that she’d seen me leaving first period. After all, she never cared before.

  But then again, she might be screwing with me. Ms. Protean found it amusing to mess with her students. She was meddlesome, and an instigator. And it was obvious that she preferred field-work to teaching.

  But despite her prickly behavior, it couldn’t be denied she was an expert in her field. So, no one protested the continuance of her tenure even though she’d never accepted a protégé.

  Which made me suspicious of her intentions toward Bianca. Was she interested because of Bianca’s research? Or was there another reason why Ms. Protean continued to seek Bianca out?

  “Mr. Montrone?” Ms. Protean raised her eyebrow as she lowered her needle to the sweater she was making. “What is the matter? Would you like to contribute to our discussion, or would you rather add two pages to your report?”

  “I need to leave.” I couldn’t explain why. Couldn’t describe the feeling that tugged within my chest, telling me that Bianca needed me now.

  It might be my intuition. Or I could just be hungry. However, the pressure had been growing increasingly harder to ignore.

  I only wanted to be by her. And it wasn’t because I wanted to see what face she’d make if she saw me skipping class. Though it was sure to be hilarious.

  Then again, I had told her I would always come for her. It was time to ditch this class.

  Ms. Protean frowned, touching her glasses. The overhead lights reflected from the glass as she studied me. “Do you now?” she asked, her eyes flashing. “Does this mean you’re in the mood to write?”

  To escape? I’d do anything.

  “Sure,” I said. The extra research would be annoying, but to surprise Bianca, it’d be worth it. Besides, in the grand scheme of things, another few pages was nothing.

  It was an excellent thing I was an expert bullshitter.

  “He’s so brave!” a short-haired brunette whispered loudly to her neighbor. “Someone is finally standing up to her tyranny. He’s, like, a hero of the people.”

  Benjamin—her neighbor, and also one of the forwards on my team—rolled his eyes. “I doubt that’s his reason. Y’all need to get a grip. Didn’t you see the chick he’s been touting around? Why do you still care anyway?”

  “Miss Deen.” Ms. Protean, who had resumed knitting, didn’t even glance up. “If you’ve nothing productive to add, then shut your trap. And Mr. Erikon, don’t start with your petty jealousy.”

  Ami Deen glared at Benjamin, and I knew things were about to go south.

  “Shut up, loser,” she snarled. “You’re only picking on him because no matter how much you work at it, he’ll always be better than you. Besides, Miles doesn’t have a girlfriend. That’s why he’s Everybody’s Man. He belongs to us all. And his late development only adds to his charm.”

  Even expected, her words grated on my nerves. Now it was definitely time to go. I swung my bag over my shoulder and stalked toward the door. “Ah, et puis j’m’en branle!”

  Why did this always need to become a public discussion? The status of my magical education was no one’s business. And I was tired of my social life being everyone’s business.

  Practice today was going to be brutal—Benjamin had been getting on my last nerve lately anyway. Between this and the comment he’d made about Bianca yesterday, he had earned a sound beating in his near future.

  The discussion delayed my arrival, and I hadn’t even had time to find a new flower before classes ended. Besides, it might work better that way anyway—making the flowers an occasional gift would make more of an impact.

  Seconds after my arrival, the double-wide wood doors of the Science Hall’s large lecture room slammed open and students trickled out. I ignored the others, because as Bianca dizzily walked out of the classroom, my focus became fixed on her.

  Something terrible had happened—that much was evident by the stark horror etched onto her expression. Her face was so pale, and her attention drifted back into the room she’d just vacated. She was in a bad state, much worse than how I’d found her yesterday at lunch.

  Could I leave her alone at all? “Bianca?”

  I called for her, not intending on frightening her. But apparently, I had, if the jerking of her frame was any indication. I reacted without a second thought.

 
One second, I was a short distance away, and the next I was at her side, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her backpack from her.

  It was nothing to lead her away from the masses and into a nearby empty classroom. But the real reason why it’d been so easy to remove her from the situation wasn’t because she was so tiny.

  No, it was because she hadn’t resisted me at all.

  The instant my hand touched her skin, she had collapsed, trembling against me. Trusting me to take the lead.

  This wasn’t good at all. For all intents and purposes, it appeared as though she was having an anxiety attack.

  “Bianca, what’s wrong?” I dropped our bags behind the closed door and picked her up. I walked with her until I was close enough to seat her on top of the nearest desk. “You’re okay now.” I wrapped her in my jacket and ran my hands down her arms. “Nothing is going to hurt you. You’re fine.”

  Bianca was still trembling as her glassy gaze rose to meet mine.

  This was good! She was responding. Even though I didn’t like the sick pallor of her skin, or the distant look of her eyes, she would be fine. “Everything is all right, mon rêve. I’m here.”

  What could have happened to set off an attack? She’d been in class. Surely nothing in there would have triggered it?

  I wasn’t sure what pulled her out of her thoughts—my words, or my presence. But after a long moment, she blinked slowly. Life began to fill her vision once again. And with it, the haze of my panic lifted as the clouds in her hazel eyes cleared.

  One second, she’d been lost in a world of fear and darkness. The next, she was with me. A weight had been lifted, and my own breathing calmed. But when Bianca opened her mouth to speak, nothing escaped outside of a soft sound.

  It caused my pulse to spike once again.

  “Pardon?” I felt useless, and I wished there was something I could offer her. “What is it, Bianca?”

  She licked her lips before she spoke again. I was distracted at the sight of her small, pink tongue before her words registered. “What did you call me?” she asked. “I thought you said I was a pastry.”

  “What?” It took a moment for her question to process, but then I remembered. The names that I’d been experimenting with.

  It made sense. Damen had a nickname, although it was stupid. And so did Julian. It seemed fitting for me to join in. God only knew what Titus was contemplating, but I had to make mine better than his. I was supposed to be the romantic one.

  But still… Why had she brought this up now?

  I hadn’t expected her to research it. When did she have time? The fact that she cared enough to add it to her schedule made my chest ache.

  “You mean the name I called you yesterday?” I clarified. At her shy nod, I continued, “While food items are popular nicknames in France, I can think of something even better.”

  “What’s wrong with ‘Bianca’?” she asked.

  “There’s nothing wrong with ‘Bianca.’ That’s a beautiful name.” I squeezed her hands and lowered my head until our foreheads touched. Her soft breath brushed over my skin, and I hoped she didn’t notice the hitch in my breathing.

  She was calmer than she had been, and for that I was grateful.

  “Sometimes names can be used as a way to express your feelings for a person,” I said.

  That was why the other names hadn’t fit. As much as I loved pastries, there was no other way to describe how much I cared already. Nothing else seemed fitting.

  “Oh.” Bianca’s eyes held mine—so earnest and curious. “What does it mean? It’s not a downgrade from a baked good, is it?”

  Damn it.

  “Look it up,” I challenged, too shy to admit it myself. It was one thing to confess when the recipient didn’t understand. But it was different when speaking directly about feelings.

  Besides that, I knew it was too soon to have this discussion.

  At the moment, she had a tighter bond with Julian and Damen. The last thing I wanted was to risk rejection. Not when I’d found the one who completed me.

  “Maybe one day, if you want—when all this is said and done—you might let me know what you think of it?” I said, pulling at the last strand of bravery I had left. If she looked and didn’t agree, she could ignore mentioning it entirely. And I would never need to know. That would be the best.

  She didn’t need to say anything. It was enough that she’d sit and watch me practice. I didn’t care if the other guys ran their mouths because I’d finally brought a girl.

  But it was a lie to say I only had her sit there to prevent another man from approaching her. She might not realize the significance. But it was one of the few, small, things I could do to keep her safe on campus.

  Even if she didn’t realize it, she stood out in a crowd. She was precious and cute. And it hadn’t escaped my notice that she drew attention simply by entering a room.

  How had Finn beat the vultures away?

  But I didn’t think she noticed that people watched her—most of the time. Which was good, because it seemed being the center of attention was one of the things that made her most anxious.

  Come to think of it, maybe that’s what’d triggered her?

  “Bianca?” I held back the impulse to blame Bryce—Damen’s preconceptions were somewhat contagious in highly charged situations. But it was a good thing I’d come across her, and not Damen. He would have assumed that Bryce had stared her into submission, or made her the butt of a class joke. Damen was petty like that, but Bryce was only one man. There was more at play, I was sure.

  Even Bryce wouldn’t bully an innocent, fragile woman. He wasn’t completely clueless.

  Probably.

  “Bianca, what happened?” I ran my thumb over her earlobe, hoping the touch would bring her comfort. She was still shaken from earlier. “You were fine an hour ago. Did you fail your quiz?”

  “It was Bryce.” Worry bled into Bianca’s expression once again. “He yelled at me with his eyes, then announced to the class he wanted to talk to me. They were laughing.”

  Goddamnit, Bryce.

  Besides that, her words made no sense. Although, from the fear in her gaze, Bianca felt that the threat was real enough.

  “How does someone yell with their eyes?”

  “He’s highly adept at it.” Bianca’s gaze flickered away nervously. “It’s one of his secret powers.”

  I waited for further clarification. But with her growing silence, it appeared I’d receive no further elaboration. “What happened next?” I prompted—there had to be more. “What caused you to get anxious? Bryce eye-yelling at you?”

  Her focus returned to mine, and she shifted slightly. Now that her panic was receding, she was becoming embarrassed. The coloring of her cheeks made that much clear.

  However, I wouldn’t stop touching her unless she pulled away first. It hadn’t escaped any of our notice that our touch had a way of calming her, even if her reaction to Bryce holding her arm had been very different.

  The question was, had she panicked because it was Bryce, whom she already hated? Or did she have this aversion with all strangers?

  “Talk to me,” I said again, wishing she’d communicate more. I swore, if Bryce had done something stupid, I would march right back into that classroom and—

  “He said he wanted to speak to me after class, but I ran away,” Bianca admitted in a small voice. “Everyone was watching me, and I knew they wondered why he’d want to talk to me. They would wonder what I did wrong. I’m not anyone special.”

  My brows furrowed, still not understanding.

  On one hand, her panic made sense. It seemed my conclusion had been correct—Bianca was terrified of being noticed in a negative way. However, there was more to it. There had to be.

  My heart ached at her words. I wanted to tell her she was special, but it was obvious that wouldn’t help her right now either.

  But I knew what would help.

  “Let’s get some food, then I’ll take you to
French.” I dropped my hand from her face and stepped back, offering my arm instead.

  Excitement shimmered across her expression. Her smile made the drama I’d faced to escape class worth it. If I’d come later, I’d have missed the opportunity to share this moment with her.

  And despite my racing heart, I’d never felt more content.

  This was bad. It was too soon for these feelings to manifest. But when her hand touched my arm, it was impossible to hold back my grin.

  Chapter Five

  Bianca

  Absent

  Lunch passed uneventfully, and the physical remnants of my anxiety attack faded throughout the afternoon. However, the feeling of being watched—similar, but less intrusive than Bryce’s brand of intrusion—stayed with me even during my French class.

  It was the oddest thing.

  But it couldn’t be Bryce. We were on complete opposite sides of campus. Even though his distance had given me temporary reprieve, he was still going to be a problem. I was going to have to do something about him; he was my future responsibility. But I wasn’t sure what. Should I frighten him with my wits, or make him cry? I did have the perfect plan. It would only take messing with his meticulously gelled hair only once, and I would win.

  It probably took him an hour to do it in the morning. So if I managed to drop a glass of water up there, somehow—as he was tall—then it would ruin his whole day. I wasn’t certain how I’d reach, but that would fall into place.

  I would win.

  When I returned to the Science Hall, geology passed without incident. By the end of class, I was practically bouncing out of my seat. Bryce hadn’t been lurking around every corner, like expected. There’d been no opportunity to expel my nervous energy.

  I had to be productive, even if it was a quick trip to the conservatory. I didn’t care if it meant devastating some weeds—pulling them out by their roots and chastising them. But by heavens, something had to give.

  I’d been so lost in my jumbled thoughts—making plans for Bryce—that it wasn’t until I’d almost reached Professor Hamway’s office before realization came to me.