Chapter 8 8
CHAPTER 8
Mark stood beside me in the university parking lot, his hand gripping mine so tight my fingers were going numb. He wasn’t looking at me, though. He was staring at the two buses waiting to take us to the Aethelgard Ruins.
Or rather, he was staring at the two men standing in front of them.
Lucien and Damian.
They looked ridiculous for a camping trip. They weren’t wearing hiking gear. They wore dark, fitted cargo pants and black t-shirts that clung to their chests. They looked like soldiers, not professors.
"You're trembling," Mark said quietly.
I jumped. "I'm just cold."
He pulled me closer, wrapping his arm around my waist. It felt possessive. "I'm here now. You don't have to worry about them."
I didn't have the heart to tell him that his presence didn't stop my heart from racing. It just made the guilt heavier.
Lucien looked up from his clipboard. His gaze locked onto us instantly. Even from this distance, I felt the impact of his eyes. He didn't smile. He just watched Mark’s hand on my waist with a cold, deadly gaze.
Damian was less subtle. He was loading bags into the bus, but he stopped when he saw us. He smirked, a dark, dangerous look that promised trouble.
"Let's get this over with," Mark muttered. He marched us toward the bus.
We reached the front of the line.
"Name?" Lucien asked, looking at his clipboard, though he knew exactly who we were.
"Mark Evans," Mark said, his voice hard. "Guest of Rhea Hale."
Lucien didn't look up. He checked a box. "You're on Bus One."
Mark moved to step onto the bus, pulling me with him.
"Hold on," Damian stepped in front of the door. He crossed his massive arms, blocking the path.
Mark stopped. He looked up at Damian, not backing down an inch. "Is there a problem?"
"Assigned seating," Damian said, his grin showing too many teeth. "University policy for this trip. To encourage... academic mingling."
Mark scoffed. "I'm sitting with my fiancée."
"Actually," Lucien cut in, his voice smooth and final, "Miss Hale is assigned to seat 4A. You, Mr. Evans, are in 4B."
"That's next to each other," I said, confused.
"Across the aisle," Damian corrected. "Not together."
Mark’s jaw clenched. I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. "That's ridiculous. We are sitting together."
"Take it or leave it," Lucien said, finally looking Mark in the eye. The air between them turned freezing cold. "This is a class trip, not a honeymoon. Follow the rules, or you can drive yourself back home."
Mark stared at him. For a second, I thought he would burst. His hand twitched at his side.
Then, he forced a smile. It was the scariest smile I had ever seen on him.
"Fine," Mark said. "Rules are rules."
He squeezed my hand one last time, painful and warning, then let go. We climbed onto the bus.
The ride was torture.
I sat by the window. Mark sat across the aisle. Every time I looked at him, he was watching me. He wasn't looking at the scenery. He wasn't looking at his phone. He was watching me, and watching them.
The twins didn't sit. They prowled.
Damian stayed at the back of the bus, joking with students, but his eyes constantly flicked to me in the rearview mirror.
Lucien stood near the front, leaning against a rail. He was facing the students. He was facing me.
Every time the bus turned, he shifted his weight effortlessly. He looked powerful.
Halfway through the trip, he walked down the aisle and stopped right beside my seat.
My breath hitched. Mark stiffened in his seat too.
"Comfortable, Miss Hale?" Lucien asked.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. "Yes, Professor."
He leaned down. He rested his hand on the back of my seat, inches from my head. The scent of cedar and rain washed over me, drowning out the stale air of the bus.
My body reacted instantly. My skin heated up. My pulse throbbed in my neck.
"You look pale," he murmured, low enough that only I could hear. "Are you motion sick? Or just love sick?"
I glared up at him. "Go away."
He smirked. "Careful. Your fiancé is watching. He looks like he wants to kill me."
"Maybe he should," I whispered.
Lucien’s eyes darkened. "He can try. He should be grateful if haven't already killed him first."
My pulse immediately jumped, it reminded me of the dead bodies I saw in the news.
"Did you...?" Before I could finish, he straightened up and walked away, his hand brushing my shoulder as he passed.
Across the aisle, Mark’s knuckles were white as he gripped his armrest. He had seen the touch.
We arrived at the Aethelgard Ruins three hours later.
The forest here looked ancient. The trees were ancient, thick and towering, blocking out most of the sun. The air was heavy with mist and the smell of damp earth. It felt wild.
It felt like home.
Nyra stirred inside me, happy for the first time in days. Territory. Pack.
We got off the bus. The students chattered, unloading bags.
Damian stood on a large rock, holding a list of keys.
"Listen up," he shouted. "We have cabins. Two to a room. I'll call your names and give you your keys."
He went through the list. Isolde got paired with a girl from the art department.
"Rhea Hale and Mark Evans," Damian called out.
Mark stepped forward, his hand claiming my waist immediately.
Damian tossed a key to Mark. He didn't smile.
"Cabin 12," Damian said. "It's the one at the very end of the trail. Furthest from the main lodge."
Mark caught the key. "Why are we isolated?"
"Privacy," Damian said flatly. "You wanted to be with your fiancée, right? Now you have her all to yourself."
Mark looked suspicious, but he nodded. "Good."
We grabbed our bags and started walking.
The path to Cabin 12 was long. The noise of the other students faded away. The trees pressed in closer.
The cabin was small, wooden, and looked old. It sat right on the edge of the dense forest line. It felt lonely.
We went inside. It was cold. There was one large bed.
Mark threw his bag on the floor and turned to me. He didn't look happy about the privacy. He looked paranoid.
"I don't like this place," he muttered, pacing to the window. "I don't like them."
"It's just a trip, Mark," I said, trying to sound soothing. "We'll be gone in two days."
He turned to me, his blue eyes sharp. "Did you see how he looked at you? The one with the grey eyes? He looked at you like he owned you."
"He's just intense. He's like that with everyone."
"No, he's not. Just you."
I couldn't reply that.
He sighed and sat on the bed, rubbing his face. "I'm going to unpack."
I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him. I felt exhausted. I just wanted to sleep and pretend none of this was happening.
Mark unzipped his heavy duffel bag. He started pulling out clothes.
Then, he paused.
He reached deep into the bag and pulled out a bundle wrapped in dark cloth. It was heavy.
The cloth slipped slightly and I saw a glint of silver.
"What is that?" I asked.
Mark froze. He looked up at me, his eyes wide for a fraction of a second. Then, the mask slammed back down.
He quickly covered the object and shoved it under his pile of sweaters.
"Just gear," he said, his voice tight. "For protection. You never know what's out in these woods, Rhea."
He stood up and walked to the window, staring out at the dark trees where the twins were waiting.
"There are predators everywhere," he whispered.
A shiver ran down my spine. He wasn't talking about bears.