“No fucking touchy,” she says, deceptively calm and full of false bravado. “You and your little besties need to get it through your deranged heads that it is not okay to keep touchingstrangers,” she admonishes, and we’re both dumbstruck: me, in shock that she’s just called Killian and the other Heirs—arguably some of the most powerful demons outside of Hell—“little besties”; and Killian because I doubt anyone’s ever turned him down.
“Who touched you,” I growl out, and she whirls around, suddenly remembering that I’m still here. Her eyes are full of fire, and for a split second I think she’s going to tell me, but then she closes her mouth and the blank mask falls over her features again. Serves me fucking right.
“Doesn’t matter,” she mutters, and adjusts the backpack on her shoulders, but Killian blocks her as she turns to leave.
“What can I do to convince you to give me a chance, Nyx Byrke, twenty-year-old to-be-determined witch who was raised human?” She crosses her arms, which maybe wasn’t the best idea because it makes her tits look fucking fantastic through the gap in her shirt.
“Congratulations, you convinced Tori to rat me out. What powers of persuasion you have,” she deflects in a deadpan voice. Did she just make a big bad wolf joke? It grates, not knowing half of what they’re talking about.
“Wasn’t Tori, actually,” he shrugs. “Perks of being the son of a Councilman,” he says with a predatory smile.
“You say that like nepotism isn’t just as gross as coercion.” She scoffs. He licks his bottom lip as she stares him down, despite easily being a foot shorter, and with a heavy sigh he turns his body to let her pass.
“Can’t hide from me forever,” he calls out after her.
“I don’t need forever. I just need long enough for you to move onto the next shiny object,” she clips back, flipping him off without looking back. He chuckles as she disappears around a corner, and turns to me with a victorious grin.
“You smell that, bro?” He inhales deeply, tapping his nose. “Seems like she liked the free show. Coulda tracked that a mile away.” He narrows his eyes , leaning toward me, and his savage grin widens. “Seems like you did too, you dirty bird.”
Fury ignites in my chest. “I’m not your fucking bro, and she doesn’t deserve whatever game you’re playing,” I ground out, glaring when the prick only smirks in response.
“She’s gotta learn somehow.” He shrugs. “But don’t worry, she’s in good hands. Or at least, she will be.” He smirks and my eyesight suddenly changes as the dragon makes himself known. Killian puts his hands up and takes a step back in capitulation.
“Looks like you need to cool off,bro,” he taunts with a devious smile before putting his hands in his pockets and sauntering away. Heavy silence descends, but in my head the screaming storm of emotions and feelings—ugh—is deafening.
What the fuck just happened?
Why did she smell so goddamned good?
I hate that she’s on his radar.
Why do I hate that? I don’t even know her.
But I do know Killian and the rest of those fucks well enough that my stomach drops with dread when I think of what they might do in the face of her brazen disdain. Despite my strength, my power as a moratus, even I would hesitate before challenging them so openly.
And that feeling—this anxiety and foreboding twisting my insides, my chest, scares me more than the Heirs ever will.
I need to get out of here.
If I can fly fast enough, far enough, maybe I can outpace these thoughts before they follow me into the skies.
12
NYX
I’ve never seen a sunrise quite like this before. Granted, I usually slept through sunrise since I worked until two in the morning, but still. This rare, silent moment, frozen in time, feels like a secret between me and the dying stars, a gift of light and warmth and peace as the sun kisses the horizon.
It makes my chest tighten with reverence, which is actually a problem because I’m having enough trouble breathing as it is after jogging the first of three miles. Coach Carrick assigned me a fitness plan to increase my endurance and stamina after Luther’s scathing review. Two days after that brutal reality check, I’m finally up and running, literally, and exploring the trails all over campus. I still can’t quite believe it’s real, that lush forests with rich, healthy soil and birdsong ringing through the morning light can exist in the same world as a barren, despondent shithole like Lynden. With that as my only frame of reference, the bar is in Hell.
As I crest the hill, arms above my head to ease the stitch in my side, an expansive lake comes into view, steam rising from the surface as sunlight burns away the morning fog dancing across the rippling surface. It hypnotizes me, and I can’t take myeyes off it as I walk to the shore, and lean against the wide trunk of a tree whose branches tap the surface with the gentle breeze. The moment feels like a precursor to slipping into another daydream.
Although, this is kind of like a daydream already.
It’s everything I wanted. Isn’t it?
A way out of Lynden.
A chance to escape.
