Page 73 of Dirty Little Saint

Nocturnus is meant to be ours. Not theirs. They’re too greedy and sloppy to be in charge. They disrespect the very principles on which it was founded. But their first mistake was fucking with my firecracker.

They crossed a line they can’t come back from. So, now they have to face their reckoning.

Maureen

There’s an unkindness of ravens trailing me as I skirt across the grounds toward the black church with its iron spires. I’m accustomed to them now. It would be weird if they weren’t following me. A calm falls over me now when they’re near.

But it doesn’t quell the nerves in my stomach today. Not when I know I have to walk into Felix Crane’s class wearing no panties and cum still stuck to my thighs. Especially now that Riot has invited him into our coven.

I open the door gently today, careful not to repeat my grand entrance from last week. I’m relieved to find students already in their seats and thankful I’m not late again. There’s already so much attention focused on me.

Felix Crane pores over a stack of papers at the head of the church. The flickering torchlight hitting the stained glass windows, casts a purple glow over his face, highlighting his dark features. He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I continue to gaze. To really look at him.

He’s tall and slender, but his shoulders are broad, his jaw strong. As he reaches across his desk, his sleeve pulls back, revealing a swirl of black ink. I can’t make out the design from this distance, but I am curious to know what this man has tattooed on his body.

I imagine him having lines of poetry down his muscular back. My cheeks flush when he looks up and catches me gawking. He stares knowingly into my eyes. But there’s no trace of his usual mischief or deviancy. I can’t figure him out—and it annoys me.

After I sit down in one of the pews, I realize I left my book bag in the library. Fuck. I’m sure he’ll love calling me out in front of everyone.

The bell tolls as the last of the students shuffle in. But Felix doesn’t address us right away. He stares into nothingness, quiet and pensive. The tension builds as we wait for him to speak. For him to break the stillness. Waiting for him to unleash his poetic violence into the room. To fill our ears and mouths with the need for more.

The silence is unnerving.

I keep my legs crossed, afraid that when I do finally hear his voice, my body will betray me. Please, fuck, don’t let me drip all over this pew.

I sneak another glance at him as he ambles down the center aisle, disheveled and unkempt. His necktie is missing, and the first two buttons of his shirt are undone. Usually, his black hair is slicked back in thick waves, but as he moves closer, I can see his strands starting to curl and go in different directions.

“I spent my morning in the graveyard,” he calls out, his voice bouncing off the church walls.

So Riot brought him there too. How fucking poetic.

Some giggles mixed with gasps break out amongst the class.

Felix flashes a grin. “I was offered immortality. Well, something like it, I should say.”

My heart beats fast as he slowly makes his way closer to my pew.

“I was given a choice between watching devils from afar or,” he raises his finger in the air, “trading in my soul for horns.”

A few more students laugh out loud.

My skin heats. So this is how he wants to go about it? A full-on spectacle. As the rage in my chest builds, my sigils flare. Especially the one on the back of my neck. Erebus.

“You know what I love about graveyards? They have no need for the living. None whatsoever.” The smirk on his face is smug, cocky, as he keeps coming down the aisle. “Open up your books to page forty-seven. There you will find Edgar Allan Poe’s Spirit of the Dead.”

I sit with my hands crossed in my lap, my cheeks red, amidst the ruffling of pages.

“Miss Blackwell.” He gazes down at me in amusement, well aware that I have no bag and, therefore, no book. “I’d like you to read the first four lines of the poem.”

My pulse ticks. The guy next to me snickers. The redhead glares at me. Fuck. I’m tempted to get up and run. “I-I don’t have my book. Sorry.”

Felix nods. “Last week, you were late, but at least you were prepared. Maybe I should allow you to be tardy from now on.”

The class bursts out laughing, and I want to crawl under the pew and die. I also want to slap him for being such a dick. “It won’t happen again,” I manage to squeak out.

He leans over and places his copy in my lap. “Read from mine.”

I nod and swallow down the lump in my throat. Sweat beads on the back of my neck as he lurks over my shoulder.

---