Going Down in Flames (Going Down in Flames #1)(54)

On the walk to her dorm, Bryn reviewed her day. She’d gotten a knight, a dress, a creepy Prince Charming who wanted to keep her as his mistress, and scary new friends in the forest. What she needed was a damn date for the dance.

In her room, she found the shopping bags Ivy and Clint left for her. Thank God her dorm was unoccupied. She wasn’t in the mood for any of Zavien’s condescending crap.

After hanging up the copper dress, she grabbed the art book. The price sticker showed it cost twelve dollars. Using her laptop, she wrote Merrick a letter explaining she’d never have a benefactor. She didn’t need one and was opposed to the entire concept. If he uttered the word “benefactor” around her again, he’d end up a charcoal briquette. There. She couldn’t make the message any clearer. Satisfied, she printed it and enclosed twelve dollars as a refund.

Feeling better, she neatly printed his address on the front of an envelope, which she’d found in the top drawer of her desk. A thorough search of the desk didn’t produce any stamps, but there had to be a post office somewhere on campus.

The lake had been fun, but the smell of algae and decaying leaves clung to her skin. A quick shower later, she smelled like lemon meringue pie. Dressed in a lime green bra and underwear decorated with hot pink flamingoes, she felt cheery. When she walked into her bedroom, voices from the living room caused her to freeze.

“Hello?” she called through the door.

“It’s us,” Ivy called back.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Bryn.” Zavien’s voice conveyed irritation. “We need to talk now.” The door swung open, and he stood there, staring.

“Get out of here.” Bryn’s face flamed.

Eyes wide, he whipped around and left, pulling the door closed behind him.

Oh. My. God. That did not just happen.

She loved her wacky underwear, but she never expected anyone else to see her flamingoes, much less Zavien. Why couldn’t she have been wearing something sexy? Stomping over to her armoire, she ripped a black T-shirt off the hanger, pulled it over her head, and jammed her arms into the sleeves. She grabbed faded jeans and shoved one foot through, hopped, and shoved her other foot through. After finger combing her hair, she walked into the living room.

Zavien opened his mouth to speak.

“Not a word.” She pointed her finger back toward the bedroom. “About that.”

He bit his lip and nodded.

“What’s so damn important you couldn’t wait out here?”

He held the envelope addressed to Merrick. “What’s this?”

She snatched it from his hand. “None of your business.”

“He works for the Directorate.” The way his eyebrows scrunched together told her he wasn’t thrilled about the situation. At least he wasn’t hollering.

Setting the envelope on her desk, she sat in the hard, wooden chair. “I’ll tell you what this is about, but if you yell at me or make fun of me, I will lose it and burn this entire dorm to the ground. Do you understand?”

“Got it.” Zavien’s face registered concern.

“Merrick approached me in the art store. He asked how I planned to support myself after graduation. I thought he was offering to fund my art career.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I didn’t know the word ‘benefactor’ meant something else in the dragon world.”

A low growl emerged from Zavien’s throat, and the hair on Bryn’s arms stood up as static electricity filled the room. He sat rigid with fists clenched, and his eyes stared through her. How did Black dragons control their breath weapons?

“Give him a minute,” Clint said.

Zavien closed his eyes. After a few moments, the electrical charge in the air dissipated. His posture relaxed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like I’m the queen of self-control,” Bryn said.

“I’m not apologizing for my lack of control. I’m apologizing for bringing you into this mess. Maybe it would’ve been better if your family had run when you had the chance.”

She’d already played through that fantasy. “The Directorate would’ve come after us.”

“Maybe.” He ran his hand down his face. “But I led them to your door.”

“That’s not true. Ferrin said the Directorate has known about me since the day I was born.”

This news seemed to lessen his guilt. His fists unclenched. “What did you write in the letter?”

She explained the message of her letter. “I refunded the price of the book because I didn’t want him to think it was a down payment.”

“Send him the book.”

“I want the book.”

“Burn it and mail him the remains. You need to send a strong message.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’ll think it’s a game unless you make it clear you aren’t interested.”

“I’m sixteen. Of course I’m not interested. How delusional can he be?”

“The Directorate makes it clear early on who they believe aren’t fit to marry,” Zavien said. “By the time those females graduate, they have their benefactors lined up.”

“I don’t want a damn benefactor. Why would everyone assume I do?”