A normal boy wouldn’t understand why I spent my afternoons training with knives instead of studying for the SATs. A normal boy would freak out if I told him I’d bled on an ancient stone to seal a gate between dimensions. A normal boy would run screaming if he knew that I carried demon essence in my blood—not possessed, not controlled, just...tainted. Different. And powerful enough to make me the only person on the planet who could close certain doors. Or open them.
Jared didn’t run. Jared had been there when I was first trying to figure out what all of it meant—when I was terrified and overwhelmed and convinced I was going to get everyonekilled. He’d told me I was strong when I felt anything but, and somehow, coming from someone who’d survived over a century of darkness, that had meant something.
My friend first. My boyfriend second. The emphasis had always been on the friend part, even as the boyfriend part kept growing, kept wanting more.
We hadn’t gone further than this, though. Not because I didn’t want to—I definitely, definitely wanted to—but because Jared was annoyingly noble about the whole thing. Something about wanting to do things right, respecting me, blah blah blah. Very old school of him.
Also, my mother’s a Level Seven Demon Hunter who could literally kill him, and my dad’s a resurrected Demon Hunter who could also literally kill him, and even my stepdad had developed some weirdly freaky prophetic abilities that might give him advance warning of any deflowering attempts.
So, yeah. There were practical considerations about the whole relationship thing. And definitely about the sex thing.
We had the relationship. I wanted the sex.
As if he was reading my mind—which he assures me he can’t do—Jared pulled back, both of us breathing harder than necessary—well, me breathing harder, but I could tell he was as worked up as I was. I met his eyes and saw that same desire. For a moment, I wanted to beg, but then he settled onto his back and pulled me toward him, and good sense returned.
I curled into his side, my head finding its familiar spot on his chest. The cotton of his t-shirt was soft against my cheek, and beneath it, nothing. No heartbeat. Just stillness and the solid presence of him.
“You’re thinking again,” he said, his voice a low rumble I felt more than heard.
“How can you tell?”
“Your heartbeat. It’s doing that racing thing it does when you spiral.”
“That’s creepy.”
“That’s vampire.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, lingering there like he was breathing me in. “Talk to me.”
I stared at the ceiling. Moonlight cut across it in pale stripes through the blinds, painting silver lines on the plaster. Tomorrow—well, technically today—the new students will arrive. Three kids who’d be joining Ren and Ana and Mindy and Eliza. Three kids who’d probably heard stories about me.
“The new students,” I said. “They’ll know who I am. What I did.”
“The gate.”
“Yeah. Last year, Bruce told everyone when they first got here, and everyone atForzaknows. Now it’s become this whole legend.The girl who closed the gates of hell. Like I’m some kind of superhero.”
“You kind of are.”
“I’m really not.” I shifted so I could look at him, propping my chin on his chest. In the moonlight, his face was all planes and shadows, beautiful in a way that sometimes made it hard to breathe. “It’s just...being a teacher. Having them look at me like I have answers. What if I screw it up?”
Jared was quiet for a moment, his fingers trailing absently up and down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then he said, “You taught last year, and it went fine.”
“Hello? Do you remember last year?”
“One bad apple.” Jared shrugged. “And you handled it. Been there, done that.”
I wanted to argue, but he had a point. We’d stopped Lilith, which is saying a lot.
“I still wouldn’t call it fine,” I say. “But I get your point. Doesn’t make me less nervous.”
“Your fears are just noise, Al.” He shifted to look at me properly, the humor draining from his face. “You are extraordinary. Hell, you threw yourself at Lilith without hesitation. You closed the freaking gates to hell. And you make seriously awesome chocolate cupcakes.”
I had to laugh. Then, tear up a bit when his expression turned serious again, and he took my hand.
“You don’t freeze,” he continued, his voice rougher now. “Not when it matters. So, stop worrying about whether you’ll be good enough for some kids who are lucky to learn from you, and start trusting yourself the way I trust you.”
“That was a very good speech.”
“It wasn’t a speech. It was the truth.”
