The Culling Trials (Shadowspell Academy #2)(20)

“Oh my God, Wally, stop,” I said with a red face I couldn’t help. Did she have any idea what she was even saying?

She blinked at me for a moment, shrugged, and then waved goodbye. “All right, then. See ya. I’ll check back in tomorrow.”

“That chick is seriously off,” Ethan said as he disappeared into the room. Orin drifted in after him, much too close, with Gregory following at a normal distance.

Pete took a step toward the door and grabbed my arm. “Come on, buddy. Let’s head in with the rest of the guys.”

Adam’s dark gaze rooted me to the spot, daring me to lie. But given he hadn’t said anything direct thus far, I knew he wouldn’t. Maybe not until he had proof, at any rate. Proof I’d make sure he didn’t get.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, making my tone as masculine as possible, and slipped over the door’s threshold.

“Thanks again,” Pete said, pushing the door closed on a still-staring Adam. With the door shut, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Holy cats. That guy is intense.”

Unlike the hovel from the night before, this room was spacious with six separate beds, each wrapped in a canopy that could be closed for privacy. Each bed had its own nightstand, plus a trunk situated at the foot. I had a sneaking suspicion that we’d have perfectly fitting sweats in whichever setup we chose. A door between two of the beds led to a bathroom, and I barely stopped a sigh of relief when I realized it was a normal bathroom, with one toilet, no urinal, and one shower with a curtain. This setup would be much easier to navigate.

Without warning, Ethan rushed at me, grabbing my shirt at the chest, and slammed me against the wall. Without thinking, I lashed out, clipping his jaw with my right fist, following it up with a slam of my left fist into his stomach.

The breath gushed out of him and he bent double, ripping the neck of my shirt and tearing it down my side at the shoulder. He pushed forward, his thick shoulder hitting me center mass. I curled in on myself with the shock of pain before pushing through it. I drove three successive punches into his ribs, fast and furious, before angling my body, stepping into him, and throwing him over my hip, a move I’d learned from Rory.

Ethan grunted as his back hit the ground. I rammed a knee down on top of him, popped up, kicked his flailing hands out of the way, and rammed my knee down again, pounding his chest. That spot hurt, I knew from previous experience.

“Damn you,” he shouted, reaching for his wand. I kicked, connecting with his wrist, which sent his hand flying above his head.

“Dude, sh-he’s a Shade, you’re physically outmatched,” Pete hollered, dancing around us with his hands out. I couldn’t tell if it was nervousness, a desire to join in, or he just didn’t know how to break up a fight. “Just let it go, man.”

Ethan shoved at my leg as I was coming down a third time, knocking my body to the side. I went with it, bringing my elbow down instead and smacking him across the face. He thrust a knee up between my legs, and it hit my thighs and just barely my crotch—a dull pain at best.

“Low blow, dude,” Pete shouted. “That is a low blow.”

“He’s a coward. What did you expect?” Orin casually commented from the corner. “He’ll probably have daddy sue for damages.”

I flattened my forearm against Ethan’s jaw and pinned his arms to his sides with my knees, a move that had worked on my brother and Rory countless times—until Rory grew to the size of a horse and could buck me off, which wouldn’t be a problem here. Ethan was big, but not as big as Rory. With his upper body secured, I paused, waiting to see if he would use his lower half.

“Get the hell off of me,” Ethan spat, tense but immobile.

“Are you going to throw another punch?” I asked.

He didn’t say anything, so I held my position.

“Silence means no, usually,” Pete said out of the side of his mouth.

Guy speak. Oops.

I gave a last little shove and pushed up off of him. I backed away, pulling at my shirt to make sure it still mostly covered my chest, and picked the closest bed.

“What the hell did you do that for?” I asked, flipping open the trunk and snatching out a shirt at random. I needed something to fling over my shoulder to cover the strap of my sports bra.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed before his gaze drifted down my body. “What the hell do you think? You shoved me down at the end of that trial. That was a dick move, Johnson. But you…you don’t have a dick, do you?”

My stomach clenched, and I schooled my face into an incredulous expression. “And you have balls the size of raisins. You constantly skirt by the danger, didn’t do a damn thing yourself, and you thought I was going to let you claim our victory? You’ve lost your mind.”

“If someone kneed me in the balls, I would’ve reacted,” Ethan said with a glint to his eyes. “And you’re not wearing a wife beater, are you? No, the straps are too thick for that.” A grin curled his lips and he took a slinky step toward me, like he’d regained the role as predator even after getting his ass handed to him.

“Man boobs, thick strap, no dick—just look at that face. Awfully pretty, aren’t you, Johnson? Awfully pretty. I’d thought maybe you were just waiting for your balls to drop—you’re a big kid for fifteen, though that’s not unusual in the House of Shade. But you haven’t got any balls at all. What are you, a failure from a past year? A has-been who wants another chance?” He laughed. “Weird, choosing a young guy’s identity to steal, but whatever. Regardless, the jig is up. Say goodbye to your share of the gold.”