The Teras Trials (The Teras Threat Book 1) by Lucien Burr

Author:Lucien Burr [Burr, Lucien]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-30T16:00:00+00:00

17

LESSON SEVENTEEN

But I do, of course. And when I wake I am alone, as if nothing happened the night before. The sheets beside me are mussed up and coldly damp. Leo is long gone.

It’s still early when I wake. No bells have rung. Out the window, it’s barely light. It’s tempting to roll over and go back to sleep, but I force myself up onto the cold boards, just to read the books they’ve left us up here in case something useful is hiding there, or in case all my knowledge of Latin and Greek has simply escaped from my mind.

Mainly, though, it’s because the nerves set in the instant my eyes open, and when I try sleeping, the only thing to get my mind off the trials is the thought of Leo fucking me. Of the sweet pleasure and the release. I realise belatedly it was one of the first times I’ve ever fucked in a bed. No back alleys. No awkward, half-standing sessions. A bed. A closed door. I put my head in my hands because I can feel the flush on my face.

Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare get attached.

This is not a good coping mechanism to develop.

So, as I said: I get up, and dress—in uniform, this time. It looks good on me, though the vest curls oddly around my hips, and something about the get-up makes me appear five years younger. I spend a few minutes trying to put my hair in some style that won’t make me look so damn young, and then decide there are more terrible things to be worried about today.

Before I can spiral, I step out of the room, and wish we had a pot of coffee up here. I expect the sitting room to be empty at this time, but I hear the boards creak with weight. Peering in, I’m surprised to see Bellamy on the ground, arms around his knees and staring into a warm, crackling fire.

“Morning,” I say.

He jumps, sucks in a startled breath before he glances back at me. “Morning.”

I creep in without another word, and now being awake seems silly. It’s too cold, and I could use the sleep. Studying random texts for the sake of it is a fool’s errand. But now that I’ve announced myself, I can hardly leave Bellamy here. I take a seat by the window and search through the books. There’s Plutarch’s Rise and Fall of Athens, a translated copy of Apuleius’ The Golden Ass, Virgil, Horace, Ovid, Catullus, Varro. I fiddle idly with Catullus, just for the fun of reading something about sodomy before the sun has fully risen.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Bellamy says suddenly. His voice is heavy and croaky, deep drawl seemingly stuck on something in his throat. I freeze when he says it, because the tone makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong. I wonder how long he’s been awake. I wonder if he heard the noises Leo and I made, the squeaking betrayal of my bed.

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