Page 59 of Full Throttle

She slumped down on the wall. Dark strands stuck to her face, and her eyes had a slightly glazed quality. Dominic grimaced. She was clearly in no state to walk, which left only one option.

“Stay still,” he warned.

Juliette eyed him warily. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to carry you.”

Juliette shook her head. “I can do it.”

He seriously doubted that. But to her credit she climbed to her feet, and for a moment it looked like she might be okay. Then Juliette staggered, almost colliding with the wall, and his hand shot out to steady her. Her skin was clammy and her throat worked, as if she was trying to stop herself from being sick.

Yeah.

Time to abandon ship.

Dominic scooped her up, ignoring her protests as he started down the corridor. Juliette mumbled something, and he leaned closer.

“What was that?”

Juliette enunciated the words with slow precision. “Thought you didn’t know which way my room was.”

Ah, Dominic thought. How to explain that when the fire alarm went off three nights ago, he’d had visions of the female dormitory burning to the ground because nobody had bothered to check the sensor since the last occupant. Which was—oh, wait—never.

“Well, I—”

“Wait.” Juliette held up a hand. “I’m going to be sick again.”

You really did have to admire the athletic speed, he thought. As soon as he put Juliette down, she was on her knees, eyes watering as she retched. He didn’t have sisters, but he’d seen enough films to know what to do, and he held her hair back until she was done. It was only when he reached for her that Juliette took a step back.

“What are you doing?”

Dominic blinked. Surely she wasn’t that drunk. “We’re going to your room, remember?”

“I can’t leave it like this.”

Dominic looked down. It was a not-very-nice-looking puddle, which he suspected the cleaners would not appreciate on a Wednesday morning, so maybe she had a point. But even so…“I’ll come back.”

“I need to clean it,” Juliette said. “I’ll get some kitchen roll.”

She tottered down the corridor, using the wall for support. Dominic ran a hand over his face. Damn it. That wasn’t even the way to the kitchen. He had a sudden vision of Juliette tumbling down the stairs, and a surge of frustration filled him. He’d met stubborn people before, but Juliette Marchmont was a whole other breed. She’d look at iron bars and be convinced that she could pry them apart with her bare hands.

“Wait!” Dominic called. “Stay here. I’ll get the kitchen roll.”

Mercifully, Juliette seemed to realize that it made more sense to send the person who could stand, and she made a noise of sleepy acquiescence. Dominic strode toward the kitchen. Admittedly, nobody had warned him about this part of the gig. When he’d reached out to the academy, he’d imagined early morning reflex drills. Not busting parties and scrubbing sick off a carpet.

Still.

He’d known that the students at Taurus would be talented, but Marchmont was something else. Her determination, her thirst for knowledge, her natural instinct on track…She was going to be one hell of a racer. And yes, he’d come to the academy for what Liêm had cheerfully called his “fucked-up pilgrimage to atone for being a nepo baby,” but he hadn’t expected to find this. To find her. He might have come to give the rookies the same leg up that he’d had, but so far she’d been his reason to stay.

God, she didn’t even know how good she was, did she?

Dominic paused in the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards until he was armed with kitchen roll, lemon-scented cleaner, water, and a sports drink. When he returned, Juliette was sitting with her head tipped back against the wall. She appeared to be unconscious, sleeping, or somewhere in between.

And she wasn’t alone.

Dominic slowed. Someone with a head of bleach-blond hair crouched beside Juliette. He was cupping her face, and there was something about his body language that made Dominic think of a lion guarding its kill. Something hungry and possessive.

Dominic cleared his throat. Frederick looked up.