Nyx glares at him before snatching the key with her one free hand. “Thanks.” His relief is palpable when I dismiss him with a jerk of my head before turning back to Nyx, but she cuts me off.
“Alright, well, thanks. For everything tonight. I’ll wash your stuff and give everything back tomorrow.”
Mmmmm nope, that’s not going to work for me.
“Orrr we go with option two, where we go to your dorm and you can give them back now.”
She ignores my very charming grin and breaks my heart again. “How about not. ‘Night.”
The fucking takeout bags squeak with how quickly I move to catch up with her as she turns down the hall, but I’m not deterred. Killian Hastings doesn’t take no for an answer.
Wait. I didn’t mean it like that.
More like I know how to get what I want even if someone says “no”.
Fuck me, that’s worse.
“How about we meet for breakfast? I’m sure the guys won’t mind you joining us.” If looks could kill, her side-eye would made me burst into flames. “Or the quad at lunch. I can introduce you around! You know, kill two birds with one stone.” Her internal struggle plays out across her bright eyes: put up with me now or face everyone tomorrow and explain why she has my clothes, which will undoubtedly stir up more shit with the Legacies and their groupies.
I’m enough a bastard to exploit that. No regrets.
“Fine.”
Fuck yeah. The sounds and smells of communal living assault me as I follow her down the hall. Witches, shifters, demons of various persuasions. At least one fae and—ooh, a hint of vampire. Not a day goes by that I’m grateful for how scary Roth is to get us the penthouse on the fifth floor. She drops the takeout bag to unlock the door and I pick it up, sweeping past her before she can shut the door in my face.
“Dude what the fu-”
“Relax, baby girl, I won’t bite. I mean unless you want me to.” I snap my teeth at her but she doesn’t react.
This is so much fun.
“Stay over there.” She gestures to her desk and stops in front of her wardrobe. Her room’s not much larger than our ensuite bathroom and completely devoid of personality. Where are thefluffy pillows, the fairy lights? Aren’t college girls supposed to like, decorate or some shit? My eyes roam across the spartan space as I set down the takeout bags and plop into the ancient wooden chair that threatens to collapse under my weight. I pull out my phone to text the guys but then I’m blinded by the sweatshirt she hurls at my head.
When I peel it off my face, intent on chipping away at that cold shoulder with something undoubtedly clever and witty, I choke on my spit. I’m 99.99% sure she has no idea that the mirror above the sink next to the wardrobe is at the perfect angle for me to see everything.Everything.
The teensy, tiny whisper of my conscience telling me to look away is drowned out by the blood rushing to my dick.
Fuuuccckkkkk.
Her dark, curly hair nearly touches her ribs in sharp contrast to her smooth, pale skin. When she bends over to take off my borrowed sweats, the glimpse of her pretty, pink pussy lips have my insistent erection waving a white flag, surrendering what’s left of my dignity. She pulls on a pair of tight cotton panties, then reaches for the top shelf, revealing the silver bars pierced through her light brown nipples and belly button.
My demon paces back and forth behind my eyes, devouring the sight of her bared body. Forgoing a bra, she unfolds an oversized white t-shirt and her peaked, pierced nipples are just visible through the thin fabric.
Wait. Is that her boyfriend’s shirt? Does she have a boyfriend? I reassure my demon that we can just kill him. At the very least a little light maiming.
“Tradesies,” she says, coming out from behind the wardrobe door with my borrowed sweatpants in one outstretched hand and making the “gimme” gesture with the other. Damn it, that’s kind of cute. I pass her a takeout container along with a plastic fork and watch as she climbs onto her bed.
“Alright, time for you to go.” She shoos me away with her fork before taking a large bite, and my demon protests her casual dismissal, determined to stay put. For a moment, I pretend I’m not the Heir to House Terra and future Alpha, I forget I’m not the most powerful earth wielder in living memory. I ignore that we’re on opposing sides of the hierarchy, that she’s got no name and no magic. All I see are her red-brown eyes framed by long, dark curls.
“Dude, out.” I don’t want to go. I want to take the container out of her hands, push her onto her back, pull her panties to the side and sink my cock so deep inside of her we both forget how to breathe.
But she’s a flight risk. Must handle with care.
“Fine, fine, I’m going.” I stretch languidly as I stand with a heavy sigh, exposing my tattooed torso and semi-hard-but-still-impressive dick, relishing how her gaze briefly drifts downward.
Yeah that’s right, baby girl, I’m on to you.
Hiding my smirk, I turn to pick up the borrowed sweats and the other takeout bags, and when I face her once more she’s looking up at me with those dark, doe eyes.
