Fractured Fates (The Arrow Hart Academy #1)

by Hannah Haze

I’ve seen his picture often enough, and yet, that sense of familiarity swims through my mind a second time. Like I know him. Like we’ve met before.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he says. I want to close my eyes and believe him. It would be nice to be safe. It would be nice if someone kept me safe. This past year has been so hard. I’m tired. Tired of running and hiding. Tired of fighting and scrapping. Tired of trying to stay alive. Tired of being alone.

“What the fuck is that?” “My pig.” He peers at the man in black. “Why the fuck does she have a pig?” The man in black shrugs. “Is she mentally unstable?” The man in black looks me straight in the eye. “Possibly.”

“You feel it too, don’t you?” A pause. “Yes, I do.” “Do you think she does?” “Yes, I think she has an awareness but I don’t think she understands what it means.” “I think we should keep it that way. For now.” “Agreed.”

Her stern facade cracks for a second time and she laughs, sunshine momentarily flooding her features and making her caramel eyes dance. I stare at her, that tug straining in my stomach, my blood so hot it’s scorching. I grip the edge of the door. “Get out before I kiss you,” I snarl through my teeth. She stops laughing and looks at me. Her cheeks pinken. The air seems to crackle with electricity and I can hear her breath hitch. I grip the doorframe so hard my knuckles bleach. “Maybe I want you to kiss me,”

“You going to kiss me back, sweetheart?” he murmurs against my mouth and my eyes flutter open. I’ve never kissed anyone before. And I guess it’s another thing I need to add to my growing list of things I need to learn. “Kiss me back,” he murmurs again, this time with more of a growl, half way between a plea and a command.

“Will I see you again?” I ask him. “No,” he says, eyes trained straight in front of him. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.” And as I watch him sail away, I wonder how it is possible for my heart to feel so elated one moment and so fractured the next.

Is that what it’s like to have a crush? To want someone even when you shouldn’t. Even when you know they are totally unsuitable and most probably out of bounds. Even when you hate their guts. It’s only as that last thought flits through my mind that I remember the goddamn professor can read them. Crap.

Is it my imagination or does he look especially hot today? He’s lost his jacket and rolled up his sleeves revealing the inks that run down his arms. I practically drool. Yes, my mind is definitely warping. Didn’t I kiss his best friend last night? Why am I crushing on two men? Isn’t one enough? Stone glances up from his phone and frowns at me.

Her cheeks aren’t as hollow and there’s more color to her skin. Peaches and cream. Lips like strawberries. Eyes like caramel. She’s a sweet fucking feast. I can almost taste her on the end of my tongue.

“Andrew’s walking around school with a black eye and a busted nose. I saw him heading off to the infirmary.” “Good!” I snap. Winnie’s brows pinch again. “I’m not going to feel sorry for … what?” “Guess who gave him that black eye?” “I don’t know but I wish it had been me.” “Spencer Moreau.”

“It’s like … it’s like she’s torn back a layer of your skin …” I shake my head. That’s the other thing that reveals itself when he drops the bored act. He has a fucking poetic way with words. It left me captivated as a kid, now it pisses me off. “What do you mean?” I gaze down at the wound. And I see. I see what he means. It’s like she’s torn back my skin to reveal the darkness lurking within.

“What are you doing?” she growls. “This,” I tell her and then I’m leaning down to kiss the girl. Kiss her! I don’t even like fucking kissing. Too close, too intimate. But in this moment, it’s all I want to do. I’m all instinct, all want. I want to taste that smile. Consume everything she was feeling. I want to make it mine. Mine.

He sweeps his thumb along the line of my jaw and peers deep into my eyes. His are a mixture of colors, one eye more green, the other more brown. I stare up into his and I feel like I’m falling. That hook in my stomach is the only thing tethering me to the ground.

“Mate?” I croak out, her words making no sense. “Yes, it’s okay, I’ll go fetch your fated mate right back here. We should never have separated you.”

This took me by surprise. Fated mates are rare. And you’re younger than me. I didn’t know if it was real.” “Or,” she says, holding my gaze, “you didn’t want it to be me. You didn’t want me to be your fated mate.” Shame floods through my body and that hook in my stomach aches. “I didn’t know you then,” I whisper. “You still don’t know me now.” She leans forward on the bed. “You never even told me your name.” “Azlan,” I tell her. “My name is Azlan.”

And yet, the idea of losing her, of watching her drift away in my arms, had paralyzed me with terror. I did the only thing I could. Damn the fucking consequences.

“I gave you my power.” Her forehead crinkles. “What does that mean? What does that mean you gave me your magic?” “It means the fated mate bond between us is sealed.” She’s still too weak to feel it, the thread connecting us, vibrant and alive, binding us together. “And now it’s unbreakable.”