Mac and Gretchen’s home was located west of the School’s main campus. Mac drove me the short distance in a road vehicle that he kept on hand for getting around the compound.

  “You really don’t need to hold my hand and walk me to class,” I snapped once we were seated in the car. Though Mac had been like my surrogate father, our relationship had first become strained while I was in my Pledge year. The past nine months had done little to repair the rift; I was bitter about my current situation, and though I knew it was irrational, I blamed him.

  “I just want to ensure that you make it there okay,” he replied mildly, his eyes fixed on the road. I gave him an odd look; did he forget that I had attended this school for six years? I’d already taken all these classes, and I was fairly confident that I could find them in my sleep. Opening my mind, I risked gently probing Mac’s.

  “Natalia,” he warned. Mac was one of the few people who could detect when I tried to read him, and he effectively blocked most of my attempts. Mac’s uncanny ability to block me was my own doing—I’d conditioned him against mental intrusion.

  “Sorry,” I smiled sheepishly, only sorry that I’d been caught.

  The stone fa?ade of the administration building came into view several minutes later. Mac pulled the car to a stop in the rounded, gravel drive, and he reached for the bags at my feet.

  “I’ll have these sent up to your new room,” he offered.

  Now that I was safely on campus, I figured that Mac would bid me farewell, and retreat inside to his office. Instead, he started walking away from the administration building. I quickly followed him.

  As we neared the outdoor practice area, Mac sped up. My short legs could barely match pace with his stride. I was so focused on keeping up that I didn’t notice when he stopped; I ran smack into his broad back, my head bouncing painfully off the bottom edge of a shoulder bone. Smooth, Talia, I thought to myself. But Mac barely noticed. I stood behind him, my view obstructed by his massive frame, rubbing my forehead and waiting for him to introduce me.

  “Director McDonough,” a deep voice greeted him respectfully. I froze. The morning was relatively warm, and the thin sweatshirt that I was wearing had caused sweat to dot my forehead and upper lip, but that voice raised gooseflesh on my arms and made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  My heart raced, images flashed through my mind: fingers light as feathers on my arms, running up my sides, blue eyes so full of longing and desire, soft lips against mine, wind whipping wet hair in my face, glass shards spraying my cheeks, the taste of blood in my mouth, a big hand gripping both my small, blood covered, ones. Stay with me, Tal, stay with me, his voice pleaded in my head.

  I wasn’t entirely sure where that last image had come from, but the other memories were traumatic enough that I didn’t dwell, on it. I was torn between two overwhelming desires—one was to run all the way back to Mac and Gretchen’s house, bury my face in my pillows, and cry myself to sleep; the second was to attack and viciously assault the boy standing not ten feet from me.

  “Donavon,” Mac replied, “I have your new assistant,” he paused briefly, “You, of course, know Natalia Lyons.” Mac stepped aside, exposing me to Donavon and his students. Paralyzed, I stood in place as the images swam over and over through my mind. My breathing was labored, my heart beating so fast that I thought for sure everyone could see it through my chest. Mac placed his hand on my shoulder, his touch bringing me back to the present. I tried to smile as I glanced at the seated students, hoping that I looked nervous, but not unstable, which is exactly how I felt.

  Finally when I couldn’t put it off any longer, I looked directly at Donavon. He was tall like his father, his shoulders broad, body lean, the muscles in his arms and chest were clearly visible through his thin navy t-shirt. His own gray sweatpants were slung low on his narrow hips. His blue eyes looked as shocked as I felt, his shaggy dark blond hair was messy, like he’d only run his hand through it when he got out of bed that morning. His normally generous mouth appeared thin, his lips pressed together as if he were desperately trying to keep something inside. He was just as beautiful as I remembered, and the feelings swelling up inside of me were just as dark as I remembered.

  When Donavon’s gaze met mine, the primal urge to strike him was so strong that I had to fight to maintain control. A low guttural growl escaped my pursed lips as a light breeze kicked up, the air growing cold around me and clouds began to gather overhead. Mac’s grip on my shoulder tightened painfully. The wind became stronger and a raindrop splashed my cheek. Mac’s fingers bit into my flesh, his nails digging in so hard that I thought for sure they’d torn my sweatshirt. The pain reeled in my rage; the winds died down and the sky slowly cleared. The whole scene occurred in mere seconds.

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  “Instructor McDonough,” I hissed through tightly clenched teeth. I tried to give Donavon my most angelic smile, but I could tell from the thoughts he was projecting that I looked slightly crazed.

  Confident that I wouldn’t maim his son—or start a natural disaster—Mac’s grip on my shoulder released. “I’ll check on you later in the day, Natalia.”

  I nodded, so furious at him for springing Donavon on me like this that I didn’t trust myself to speak. He gave a short wave to the class and a nod towards Donavon. “Stop by and see me soon, son.”

  Donavon gave his father an easy smile. “You got it, Dad.”

  With that, Mac turned and left me to face his son alone. But I couldn’t move; my feet felt as if they were stuck in quicksand.

  “Talia, please have a seat. I’m going to demonstrate the skills that we’ll be working on today, and then we’ll break off into pairs to work on them,” Donavon said to me, his voice full of unspoken tension. His intense gaze penetrating straight through my skin, piercing my heart.

  So many questions burned hot and ugly inside of me. Why did you cheat on me? Why didn’t you have the decency to apologize? Why didn’t you ever try to talk to me after everything happened? What are you doing here now? Yet when I opened my mouth, nothing came out, my unspoken questions handing in the air like a thick fog. Donavon’s gaze remained on me.

  Until nine months ago, I had trained for hostile situations. Now, looking into the face of the boy who had broken my heart, I could barely contain my emotions or my powers. Get a grip, Talia, I scolded myself. He’s not important. You don’t care about him, and he doesn’t care about you. Sit down and act like a normal human being. Heeding my own advice, I slowly eased myself onto a cushy mat at the back of the class. Donavan reluctantly dragged his eyes from me and began his lesson.

  He began reviewing basic offensive maneuvers, nothing too complicated or advanced. This must be a remedial class, I thought to myself. I walked around the periphery, observing the students when it was time to break into partners. I made small corrections in technique when I saw fit, but I was still so distracted by coming face-to-face with Donavon that little else mattered.

  During my stay at Mac’s house, I hadn’t been allowed visitors or communication with anyone besides Mac, Gretchen, and the select Medicals that came to treat me. No one had even mentioned Donavon, let alone told me that he was teaching at the School. Though, the more I thought about it, maybe Gretchen had tried—she’d been nervous and tense when we’d talked over breakfast this morning. Looking at Donavon now, all I could think was that she really should’ve tried harder.

  When I’d left for Nevada, Donavon had been an Elite Operative, same as me, and was stationed at the Elite Headquarters in West Virginia, same as me. He’d also been my boyfriend since I was thirteen, but it ended when I’d caught him naked in bed with another girl.

  It now made perfect sense that Mac had insisted on accompanying me that morning. He must’ve known that, best case scenario, the moment that I saw Donavon I would leave. Worst case scenario, I would cause my own natural disaster right then and there. He’d been right; without Mac’s painful presence, I likely would’ve done something drastic. I’d always lacked impulse control, but lately, my temper was more easily provoked, and reining it in had become harder.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Donavon called class to an end. Grateful to escape his unwelcome presence, I turned to leave with the students.

  “Talia, can I have a quick word?” Donavon called after me. I briefly considered refusing to speak to him, but then thought better of it. I’d have to face him eventually; now was as good a time as any. Since this assignment wasn’t exactly voluntary, it was unlikely that Mac was going to let me opt out just because I didn’t want to work with Donavon.

  I’d stopped in my tracks when he called my name, and twisted my neck to meet his gaze.

  “Hey, Donavon, you got a second?” a female voice rang out from across the paddock. Despite the distraction, Donavon’s eyes remained locked with mine, pain and regret visible in their cerulean depths. His mind was unguarded, and the thoughts and feelings that poured freely tore open the wound that his betrayal had created.

  “Um, sure,” he called regretfully to the approaching woman.

  I snapped my head to face forward and swallowed the rage and bitterness that threatened to rip from my throat in an animalistic scream. His gaze bore into the back of my skull.

  “I had no idea,” his mental voice said inside my head. Willing myself to remain composed, I closed my eyes, slowly exhaled, and counted to three.

  When I opened my lids, I forced one sneakered foot in front of the other, away from the boy who’d broken my heart. I could hear the soft murmur of Donavon and the woman conversing, but their words were indistinguishable over buzzing between my ears. A loud, satisfying crack filled the morning air, followed by two strangled yelps as a large limb landed a foot from where Donavon and the woman stood. Pausing briefly to relish in my childish antics, I smiled, continuing to walk away. Maturity had never really been my strong suit.

  Instead of going to my next class, I ran to the Headmistress’ office. I barely noticed the lush green lawn or perfectly manicured flower beds that decorated the School’s grounds. I could not believe that Mac had done this to me—what was he thinking? Forcing an interaction between me and Donavon? Was he crazy? Mac was the one who’d continually insisted that my mental state was fragile; what made him think that being around Donavon was a good idea?? Donavon’s betrayal had nearly destroyed me, and now when I was more vulnerable than I’d been in my entire life, Mac was forcing me to relive that pain. What was wrong with him? I continued my mental rant the entire way to the administration building.

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