They drop together, knees hitting the stage as the scythes crash against the boards with a metallic crack. Then, with fluid precision, they rise again, torsos flexed, abs catching the light. The crowd nearly drowns out the music, shrieking so loud my ears ring.
My eyes skim lazily over the formation until I spot him.
Theo.
At the very back, a scythe balanced easily in his grip, like it was made for him. Even beneath the skull paint, I’d know him. His blue hair gleams under the lights, with wet, darkened strands plastered to his forehead. His tattoos twist and ripple as he moves, shadows dancing over his skin. But it’s his body that hooks my gaze despite myself. The deep ridges of an eight-pack flexing with every turn, sweat tracing down his stomach until it vanishes into the sharp V of his Adonis belt. The low hang of his pants makes the shadows there even more pronounced, more suggestive.
Then, the choreography shifts.
The men fall back, forming a half-circle, their scythes crossed before them as one figure steps forward into the light.
Theo.
The crowd explodes, shrieks reaching a fever pitch. He rests the scythe across his shoulders, hands draped lazily over either end, his chest heaving as he rolls his hips in a slow rhythm to the music.
He then drags his weapon down, every line of his bodysharp and defined. Then, he spins. The scythe whirls around him in a deadly halo before he drops low, crouching with one hand braced on the stage, his skull-painted face angled up in a wicked smirk.
Girls in the front row practically collapse against the stage, clawing at the air, screaming his name.
I roll my eyes at the deafening shrieks and glance down as a younger student fights their way through the mob, clutching a donation bucket. Smart. Asking for money whilst the show is ongoing.
I dig into my purse and drop a few notes I’m carrying into the bucket.
“Are you really paying for this?” Allie’s voice comes, and I turn as she passes me a cup of Fanta as she takes a sip from her own.
They aren’t bad.I write.Not perfect, but decent. They could use some work.
But even as I write that, my eyes betray me. They keep slipping back to the stage, to him. Theo rejoins the formation, scythe flashing as he moves in perfect time with the others, slipping back into the shadows behind the one in the centre.
Theo’s the tallest there, I realise. His body flexes when he comes fully into view again, the sharp lines of his eight-pack catching the light. He smirks, spins, then winks into the crowd. The girls lose their minds, the shrieking only getting louder.
I sip at my drink, face indifferent and stoic, as if the performance is nothing special. But my stomach… It’s flutteringnervously, and I can’t deny I’m enjoying the show. My cheeks burn when I notice the outline of his manhood.
Gosh, Heaven!I scold myself.
Rain pours down on the stage, soaking the performers and making the crowd go wilder. The same first year is back again, a hopeful smile on his face with his bucket, which is almost full. Damn…
The song comes to an end with one final spin as they land on their knees and growl into the sky, their auras flaring, making the ground tremble, and my own heart skips a beat. And this time, as the lights come on, I cheer, too. That ending was perfect.
“Ok, that weapon play was good,” Allie admits before wrinkling her nose. “Did they put oil on their bodies? Such man-whores. They just want to score girls.”
You sound like a grandma. Besides, I don’t think they were the man-whores, I think it’s the girls who are all thirsty for them,I write, giggling silently.
Allie raises an eyebrow. “Not all. I will never understand this.”
I smile at her, but I realise, as much as I don’t want to admit it, that the hot dance distracted me from Holden.
I look up at the cloudy night sky and chant a spell, causing fireworks to explode above us, making the crowd cheer.
Allie looks at me sharply. “Heaven, I heard that. Your voice…” She stares at me, her heart pounding, and I simply smile.
That’s the voice from within; only a witch can hear it. I told you that I can still do spells.I wink at her, and she gives me the faintest of smiles.
“Great.”
“Hey, Alessandra Rossi! Want to go on a date!?”
We both turn towards Asher Nicholson, who leans forward and winks at her. Allie rolls her eyes.
