Its large paws sank into the sand, the imposing wolf towering over me. It snarled and lowered its head threateningly.
A yelp escaped me as I stumbled backward, tripping over the uneven sand and plopping my butt into the messy grains.
“What are you doing?” I gasped, panic rattling my bones as I stared at the wolf born of chaos.
Hemlock's laughter taunted me, filling the space between us. “All of you nobles are thesame. You know they’re bitches, but you still hang around them.”
“Not anymore,” I croaked, my tailbone throbbing from the way I landed.
“You're pathetic,” Hemlock spat out, his disgust for me palpable. “Can you speak up? I can’t hear you.”
I knew he could hear me. We didn’t have demonic hearing for nothing, but I wouldn’t let him get to me. I’d heard worse from the woman who birthed me.
“From what I’ve seen, you’re nothing but a drunk bastard who bullies others because youthinkyou know them.” Pushing against the sand, I climbed to my feet and met his gaze over the chaos wolf with a steely resolve.
Hatred burned hot in his eyes, but he said nothing.
“Did you hear what I said, or should I repeat it?” I turned on my heels, and the moment my back was to him, hot tears spilled down my cheeks.
He probably scented the salty tears, but I kept walking because I refused to let Hemlock see me cry.
23
PANDORA
My heart rapped against my ribs wildly as I stood inside Serpentine Stadium. I had a feeling that the training hall would always feel daunting to me with the cavernous sandstone chamber and crimson mats, the color of freshly spilled blood, that were placed haphazardly across the sandy expanse. The air was thick with sweat and the tang of blood—a pungent reminder of its purpose: Practical Applications of Demonic Feeding.
This class meant I would be subjected to shadow magic, but I hoped the magic wouldn’t be used against me again. Even seeing shadow tendrils caused me to freeze. I hated that. I mean, it made sense that I had the freeze instinct. All I could do my entire life was freeze. I never had a chance to run or fight until my magic awakened.Fighting was what I wanted my instincts to do. I didn’t want to be a victim again, but last class, I was.
Dex, Grimshaw, and Hemlock speared me with similar seething glares from their spot in the corner.
Grimshaw's gaze was an unwanted cocktail of irritation and delirium, his green eyes rimmed with red as they peeked over the curling magical wisps rising from his fae pipe. His scowl was visible even as his lips closed over the mouthpiece again.
I wasn’t sure what I did to him, honestly. When I first saw him, I’d been…entranced, but he seemed to be as much of a jerk as the other two.
Hemlock, on the other hand, was a perfect picture of barely restrained violence. The reek of alcohol clung to him shamelessly, though the source of his inebriation was absent for once. His red eyes, glazed over but ablaze with a deep-seated hate, were fixated on my throat as if he were imagining slicing it open. Too bad for him; that hasn’t killed me yet.
I understood that reaction after what I had said to him last night under Occult Arch, but I couldn’t feel bad about what I had said. He had it coming. Hewasa drunk.
Dex's stare was the most unsettling, though—his fog gray eyes held a deadliness that borderedon what I imagined obsession to look like. His gaze didn't waver. It dissected me.
I couldn’t get a good read on Dex at all. He was relentless. I knew I should’ve been scared of him, but I wasn’t.
The three of them made me nervous. The only thing calming my frayed nerves was Reed standing next to me.
“Don’t worry about them,” he whispered, brushing his fingers against mine. Static sparked up my hand, making it tingle.
I glanced over at him, tearing my gaze from the three demons who seemed to want to make an enemy out of me. “Thank you.”
“No thanks needed, dream girl.” His violet gaze caused a jolt of excitement to thrum through me. It was filled with warmth and kindness that made my insides feel like jelly.
Ashenfell cleared his throat in the center of the room. “Welcome back. Today, we are going to discuss how important it is to keep control of our powers. As demons, our demonic magic is strong compared to other supernaturals, and it is also some of the most volatile, second only to drakes and dragons.”
“What about basilisks?” someone asked, and I had to fall in line with that question. Basilisks were strong, very strong from what I’d read.
“They’re strong, but they have immensecontrol. Their magic is precision at its finest.” Ashenfell’s gaze narrowed at the class. “Demons do not have innate control like that, which means having our magical reserves filled is crucial. If not, our magic tends to whip out and fill it by any means necessary. Your control will bend to the needs of your magic.”
Dread coiled around my heart like the way Mother’s shadows had once, carefully and without fatality, squeezing with a relentless grip that left me gasping for a breath.
