I gave him a reluctant nod, though the seed had been planted.

His tone of voice had said he was done with that topic, but his frown told me he was working up to another. Not wanting the reprimand I knew he owed me, I shifted gears—fast.

“How do you know all that medical stuff?” I asked. “Like binding wounds. And checking breathing. And how you felt me…for broken ribs.” I’d meant it innocently, but stupid, hormonally challenged me stammered after the felt me part of that sentence. Idiot.

But he didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he answered in a flat tone, “You’ll get that in combat first aid, next semester.”

Ronan had grown tenser the closer we got to campus, his voice duller, and by the time we reached the quad, he was strung tight as a violin string. My lecture still hadn’t come, which was odd.

Something felt wrong, and then it struck me. More vampires than usual were milling around the quad. They glided down stairs, drifted from buildings, materialized from the trees, their elegant gait making it look as though they floated rather than walked.

“The blood,” Ronan murmured to me. “They scent your injury.”

Master Dagursson emerged from the Arts Pavilion as we passed. “Acari Drew. What has happened?” His faux concern didn’t fool me—I knew he’d slice and dice me for a midnight snack if but given the opportunity.

What I’d done struck me then, truly struck me. I’d gone off the path—way off the path. I’d followed a teacher without his knowledge. I’d traveled to a forbidden part of the island. I’d broken every rule in the book.

My stomach turned to ice as I realized maybe Master Dagursson might just get a chance at his midnight snack after all. Because surely I was in for some disciplining now.

How to begin to explain? My mind raced, trying to formulate my answer.

But Ronan spoke up before I had a chance to. “Sparring accident,” he said, his voice flatter and colder than I’d ever heard it. “I took Acari Drew to do some extra credit work. We were practicing our throws, and she landed on a rock, hurting her back and slicing her arm.”

I shut my mouth not to gape. Ronan had lied. For me.

Which meant we shared a secret. Two secrets, if you counted knowledge of his hidden stakes. Which meant he trusted me.

It was a shift that implied other, more dire and complicated things. But what those things might be, I couldn’t fathom.

CHAPTER TWENTY

I’d chosen the lawn in front of the gymnasium for shuriken practice. My run-in with the Draug had been a wake-up call—I needed to be as good and as prepared as I could be at all times. My rib had a hairline crack just to the right of my sternum, but this island was life or death, and injury was nothing more than an excuse. I had enemies, and apparently I had predators, too, and neither would be sympathetic, so despite the screaming pain, I kept at my workout.

The small, outdoor target area was best suited for my twofold purpose. Twofold because, yeah, I wanted to practice throwing my stars, but I also wanted to show off, just a little. I was known as the nerdy girl, and it never hurt to remind the Guidons I was as strong as I was smart.

Ronan emerged from the gym, toweling off his face and neck as he bounded down the stairs. Seeing me, he stopped short. He was still panting from his workout, his cheeks red and clothes sweaty.

Something about this overt display of male vigor set me off kilter, and I babbled in lieu of a greeting. “I don’t know how you can bear wearing just a T-shirt in this weather. I mean, I know it’s summer and all, and I guess if you were born here—”

“You seem to be healing,” he said, cutting me off.

My babbling had sent a fresh spike of pain shooting through my chest, and I cradled my ribs, curling into my right side. “Actually, I feel like I’m dying. But thanks for asking.”

He looked around, then stepped closer. “You’ve recovered well enough to hear what I have to say. Tell me, Acari Drew, what part of Don’t leave the path is unclear?”

Here it came—my lecture. I’d thought I’d dodged that bullet. Silly me had expected the same tender, wound-binding, lie-telling Ronan, but I seemed to be about to enjoy furious-teacher Ronan, instead.

It put up my hackles. “I know the rules.”

“You’re forbidden from leaving the path.”

I was sick of being treated like a naive schoolgirl. I’d won last semester’s challenge—check that—I’d kicked ass in last semester’s challenge. I was cool, I was smart, I kept my friends’ secrets. Hadn’t I earned his respect?

I couldn’t help it. I looked around and said innocently, “I am on the path.”

He looked as if his head might explode. “You know what I mean.”

“Hey, I was just following you.” I wasn’t about to mention I’d spied him with the cloaked man—something told me I should keep that little nugget to myself. “You left the path. Surely the vampires wouldn’t appreciate you wandering all over the place.”

The muscles in his jaw clenched tight. I’d hit on something. When Ronan had lied to Master Dagursson about my whereabouts, I’d thought it was because he trusted and wanted to protect me. But now I realized, maybe he’d been protecting himself, too.

“You’re a fool.” He spoke through gritted teeth, seething with disdain. “I don’t know why I expect more. You think you’re a maverick, Annelise. That you’re above it all. But it was just this sort of recklessness that killed my sister.” At the mention of his sister, the fury leached from his voice. “Impetuous, juvenile behavior killed Charlotte, and it’ll kill you, too.”

“I’m not your sister.” My voice was tight with exhaustion—physical and emotional. I was angry with him, and now I was sad, too, but it was the anger that won out. I limped to the target, retrieving my throwing stars. “I am not juvenile. I’ve taken care of myself my whole life. At least you had a family—I didn’t. You have no idea.”

“Is it that you have a death wish?” he asked at my back.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I bent to stow my shuriken in my boot, and the movement stole my breath.

“Then you need to stop acting like such a child.”

I stood straight at that, forgetting the stabbing pain and meeting his eyes with a glare. “Then stop treating me like one.”

Ronan’s face went suddenly, utterly blank. His posture stiffened as he looked over my shoulder.

A chill rippled my skin, and I felt a change in the atmospheric energy, as with a coming storm. In the air thickening around me, I felt the vampire’s presence.

Alcántara. There was only one reason the vampire would show up here, and it was me. Ronan looked back at me, and I met his meaningful glare with a smile.

It was as childish as he’d accused, and I knew both feminine triumph as well as deep regret. A part of me knew he was right—I’d made some dumb, impulsive choices, and here I was, yet again stooping to some pretty immature depths.

He said, “Good day, Acari Drew,” and there was no warmth in his voice, no old Ronan, no Annelise.

Ronan and Alcántara—the two were mutually exclusive. The closer I got to one, the more distant the other became.

My emotions were complicated and unsettling as I watched him walk away. I feared I’d lost a friend but gained a vampire.

But maybe I needed to harden my heart. Amanda had told me herself—there were no allies on this island. And the only judges with final say were the ones with fangs.

I braced myself, putting a poised smile on my face, and turned. “Buenos días, Master Alcántara.”

That pleased him, and I was met by a smile, slow and full of promise. “When we are alone like this, querida, you may call me Hugo.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but I was speechless. Hugo? I was floored. And suddenly very nervous.

He gave a sultry chuckle and put his hand on my shoulder. “Fret not, young one. Think of it as practice. For our upcoming mission. You must accustom yourself to subterfuge. The way of pretending to be someone you are not.”

“Hugo, then.” My voice was breathy. I was navigating some seriously treacherous terrain.

My ribs were killing me, too, his touch a burden on my shoulder. I forced myself to stand up straight, not to lean into the pain. A new path was one thing, but I wasn’t ready to have him ask about my injury. I had a giant, purple bruise on my chest that I imagined would’ve really floated his boat.

He stepped closer. “Did you like your rose?”

I consciously stayed put, defying every instinct to step back. “I did. Thank you.”

“You are like that hothouse flower.” He shifted, and my body froze in place as he began to run his hand slowly down my arm. And then I forgot my pain completely, because he was lowering himself to kneel before me. He brushed his hand over my hip, grazing it lightly down my leg, until his fingers came to rest at the top of my boot. He pulled my remaining throwing stars from their holster and stood again before me, stroking the blades. “You, a rose, with these very sharp thorns.”

It was too intense. But it was so amazing, too, and flattering, I couldn’t help but glow at the attention. Particularly after the disastrous conversation I’d just had with Ronan. As creepy as it was, at least Alcántara didn’t treat me like a child. He treated me like a woman.

“And your dress?” He held my gaze, and I couldn’t look away. His eyes were black and bottomless, and their intensity made me feel as if I were the only person in the world. “Did you like that, too?”

“It was lovely.” I let myself bask a moment in his attentions, even though I knew, holding his gaze, sharing his smile, it was reckless. But I let myself believe, just for an instant, that this was normal, that this was merely a guy who liked me and whom I could trust. It wasn’t, though, and I couldn’t. Alcántara’s hypnotic eyes and voice made Ronan’s powers of persuasion seem like child’s play.