When I look for her again, she’s turned her back on where we stand along the perimeter of the course. I’m sure she feels our eyes on her, but the brat refuses to look. As the hour passes and the line of remaining freshmen dwindle, I watch as she begins to fidget more—shifting her weight from side to side. Twistingher hair. Her friends try to comfort her, I can tell. Especially the necromancer. Milo. It doesn’t work.
When a professor at the entrance announces the order in which we’ll enter the course, I’m pleased to discover I’ll be going after her.
She is decidedly not.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she mutters when I walk behind her.
“Hello, pretty bird.” I lean over, whispering in her ear. “Or do you prefer ‘pretty pussycat’?”
“Fucking neither,” she seethes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Can you please just, fuck off?”
“Oh pretty bird, I’m sure you have nothing to worry about after all that extra practice with Brandt.”
She narrows her eyes and scowls. “How the fuck do you know that?”
I tsk. “Don’t you remember? There’s very little that can stop me from getting what I want. Including your whereabouts.”
Her jaw drops. “Have you been following me?”
I smirk, a predator playing with its pretty, pretty prey. “How could I resist when you sing so sweetly, pretty bird?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She grimaces, closing her eyes, startling when I lean in close with a feral grin.
“So many,manythings.” She shivers when my demon bleeds into my voice, rolling over her skin. Before she can respond, the professor announces she’s on deck for entering the course.
Nyx pales and runs her fingers through her dark hair, looking up at me. “You’ve done one of these before, right?”
Her sincere question takes me by surprise. “Yes.”
“You got any advice for me?”
“Would you trust it?”
She scoffs quietly. “Probably not.”
“Then don’t ask.”
“Wow. Okay?—”
“I wasn’t finished.
“Fine. Sorry.”
“Then don’t ask for help from someone you wouldn’t trust with your life. That’s my advice.”
She swallows thickly and turns as the professor calls her forward. With a deep breath, she fortifies herself before looking back at me one last time.
Not with defiance, like at Wyckd.
Not in contempt, like last night.
She’s looking at me like I’m the only one who can save her.
“Fly away, pretty bird, before I catch you.”
I almost miss the curl of her lip before she steps onto the course.
38
