Page 92 of Devious Knight

I look back at Eilish and she nods at me to go.

“I’ll speak to you later,” I tell her.

“I look forward to hearing about this.” She giggles.

“Sure.”

I give her one last smile then walk over to Michael, trying to keep my nerves on a leash.

“I was hoping you’d be here.” He speaks first, giving me one of his confident grins.

“Theta duty. It’s kind of mandatory when it comes to Tiffany.”

“Right. Well, I hope I didn’t interrupt you and Eilish.”

“No. It’s cool.”

“I didn’t want to miss the chance to speak to you and feel like a bigger asshole for canceling our date. Sorry I haven’t rescheduled yet.”

Wow. It’s so weird talking to a guy who’s normal and… nice.

“It’s okay.” I nod.

“Something came up and I’ve been really busy.”

I know it’s a lie but I’ll let him off. I don’t expect him to tell me that Kade threatened him. I suppose there’s also some element of truth to his excuse. The basketball players are just as busy as the football players at this time of year.

“That’s understandable.”

“You look great.” He gives me an approving smile and takes in my little blue Lolita dress.

This one is much simpler than some of my others, but you can still see the distinct style.

"Thanks, so do you."

"In this old thing?” he chuckles, tugging on his jacket.

I laugh and it feels freeing. Some of the tension even leaves me. “It still looks good.”

“So, I was thinking we—” His gaze flicks up and the smile leaves his face. Then his expression morphs into something crude and cold that I can’t quite describe.

I turn, look up at the balcony behind us, and instantly understand the reason for Michael’s strange reaction.

Kade is standing right there, looking like the dark prince summoned from hell. He’s staring Michael down with a crude ominous look that says I’ll kill you if you say another word.

God… he’s here.

Seeing him sends my mind into overdrive and my nerves buzz like I’ve been struck by lightning.

And that murderous look on his face…

I don’t need to be told that it’s there because Michael is talking to me.

That look takes possessive to the darkest level, and it frightens me.

“Someone doesn’t like me talking to you,” Michael says in a still, low voice, cutting into my thoughts.

I look back at him and try to regain my composure. “You shouldn’t let that bother you.”

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