Page 64 of Hunted

“Adelaide, please look at me.”

Somehow, despite everything that just happened and the whirlwind of things I was feeling, I couldn’t help but look up at Evander through the curtain of white hair Deklan had pulled free. I’d been bold before, but that false bravado dried up the moment their apartment door swung shut behind me. I was nothing but a girl, used up, hung out to dry, standing half naked and mortified in front of yet another instructor.

At least it was nothing he hadn’t already seen before.

I couldn’t wait to see this Academy in the rear-view mirror of whichever car they assigned me at Graduation. I couldn’t wait to never see these men again.

And yet—Evander stood patiently before me, holding a throw blanket out in front, shielding my body from view.

“I’m blocking the camera from this angle. You can get dressed—I promise no one is looking.”

It was a kind, humane gesture—but I couldn’t forget the fact that he’d reduced me to a puddle almost as embarrassing as the one I’d melted into now, little more than an hour ago.

I threw my trousers back on—sans a certain pair of underwear. What was I thinking? What was the point in that besides a show of you-can’t-rattle-me?

Worse, what was Beckett going to do with them now?

Hoping the answer was throw them in the bin, I bent to shove my feet into my still-tied boots. I didn’t even remember when they’d come off. And I didn’t want to think about the events that led to my not-remembering, either.

“You can drop the blanket now,” I murmured.

“About earlier—” he began, rubbing the back of his neck as a flush crept across his cheeks.

“Forget it.” I slammed the emergency stop back down, and the elevator resumed its downward journey.

“Adelaide—”

“Instructor Lockwood,” I snarled, rounding on him. “Forgive me if you don’t think my embarrassment has already peaked tonight, but I’ve had more than enough of you three and your toying. Leave me alone and maybe we can all see the week out in relative peace.”

The doors dinged open as if on cue and I fled—just like the old days. Like a thief in the night.

“And just where have you been, my tiny, blonde nomad?” Ethan drawled from his new cot—the one right next to Fleur’s, which I hadn’t yet vacated.

She wouldn’t be needing it anymore—and I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in the place she was murdered.

“Never you mind,” I grumbled, heading straight for the trunk at the end of the bed, housing what little clothing I still possessed.

“What’d he say?” Mercy piped up, eyes alight, peering over Ethan’s bare chest from where she lay snuggled in the crook of his arm.

“He said that if we’d continued to look deeper than the top sheet, we would have discovered a whole cohort’s worth of capture sheets.” My teeth ground together, reiterating my own stupidity.

Mercy’s dark brows slashed together beneath her choppy, sex-addled mane. “There was more?”

“Yes.”

“Well, fuck. Maybe we should have looked.” Her petite, pixie-like face wrinkled in a grimace.

“Ya think?” I snarked, slamming the trunk lid down a little harder than necessary.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger,” she said, hands raised in mock surrender. The action, however, caused the blanket to slip, exposing her whole right boob. Mercy didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, she stuck her chest out a little further when she noticed the trajectory of my eyeballs, and winked when they landed on her pebbled nipple.

Scoffing, I said, “Technically I’m the messenger,” and averted my gaze.

“Fine, don’t shoot the recipient then.” Whatever else she was going to say was drowned in a wave of giggles as Ethan leaned in to cover said nipple with his mouth.

Apparently he didn’t mind, either.

Using the opportunity of their sudden distraction to slip into something a little more comfortable and a little less revealing, I whipped my standard-issue trousers right off. With clean underwear halfway up my legs, I thought I was in the clear.