Blaise whirled around to glare at Eden, his eyes wild. “It matters because you have everything. You always have. And you take it all for granted. You act like a victim. What did you do in the underground, hmm? Something illegal? Something sinful?”
“Blaise, stop it.”
“You could have anyone you want, Eden. Anyone. I thought when we went to Tartarus…” He scoffed and turned away, dipping his head completely under the flow of running water. Spluttering, he tossed his hair back from his face. “Nothing. Just forget it.”
Eden studied him for what felt like a long time, but Blaise refused to meet his eyes. “Blaise—”
“Just leave it alone, Eden.” Blaise turned his face back into the steady stream, allowing the water to obscure his eyes.
Resignedly, Eden turned the faucet off, wrapping his towel around himself without another word. He felt Blaise’s cold glare on his back as he left the washroom in silence. There would be no reasoning with Blaise when he acted this way. Blaise’s sulky moods always seemed to wrench them apart and drive a wedge between them.
With his towel wrapped around his waist and chest still dripping with beads of water from the shower, Eden headed back to his personal quarters to dress. In his hastiness to remove himself from Blaise, he hadn’t thought to redress and realized his mistake when he nearly charged headlong into a group of young female cadets lounging lazily on a bench in the hallway. Their eyes widened, and their faces flushed upon sight.
Eden knew he was generically handsome. High cheekbones with a strong jaw, sea-blue eyes, and short, soft blond hair. His body had taken well to rigorous training, and muscles had developed where once softness had been. But he wasn’t handsome the way Micah was handsome. There had been a quiet, effortless attractiveness to the other man, something pure and natural. As if Micah himself had no idea how beautiful he really was. Eden shivered at the thought.
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