Page 21 of Asher

“She’s not a liar,” I tell him, omitting the adjectives. “I can’t teleport. Instead, I can change form into a canid—a dog.”

Most of the older kids already know this, but many of the smallest ones gasp. I decide a demonstration might be the best way to move things along. I check first to make sure all the supervising adults are with their children, then shift.

Cries of startlement and delight ring through the room, and my hellhound self glories in the attention. I’m an average-sized hellhound, which is to say bigger than any other dog they would have seen. My coat is the same mid-brown color as my hair, and I stroll along the front of the room, letting them see me move. Turning to face them, I yawn, showing off my teeth, flick my ears, and leap up onto the table. The kids ooooh in delight, while the teens mutter about how cool it looks—which of course my hellhound hearing picks up. Our hearing and sense of smell are the sharpest of any species, something I’ll be teaching them this year. Probably with some games of hide-and-seek.

I jump off the table and shift smoothly back to my biped form. “Any other questions?”

Three times as many hands go up this time, and I call on one of the older kids, a fifteen-year-old girl.

“Are you really marrying Asher Bailey?”

A hush falls over the room as all eyes turn to me. It’s not a secret, so I’m not surprised she asked… or that everyone seems to know. But the almost reverent eagerness and interest with which they’re waiting for my replydoessurprise me. Sure, Asher is handsome and wealthy and dynamic, and his family is one of the most influential in this settlement… but do people really care so much that he’s getting married? Even children?

Apparently.

“I am,” I say, only to be bombarded with a flood of questions. Voices all jumble together, but my ears pick up “when?” “how did you meet?” and “will the wedding be here?” before I decide to tune them all out.

I raise my hands in a bid for quiet and wait patiently. Eventually, everyone falls silent, waiting to hear what I’m going to say. I study the sea of faces, looking for the subtle differences in expression that will tell me what they’re feeling.

“I’m sure there will be plenty of time and opportunity for you to hear about my wedding to Asher,” I offer. “Right now, I’m here to run the school. I think it’s time to meet Sid and Annie.”

Annie steps forward first. We conferred extensively with the village council about how she could demonstrate her abilities to the children. As a succubus, most of her talents are passive—she feeds off sexual energy, which is a simple thing to do in a town full of adults. Nobody would even notice it was happening. The more demonstrable of her abilities are defensive—low-key mind control powers. In modern society, incubi and succubae rarely need to use those skills, and many of them have morphed their talents togivingemotional boosts. In Annie’s case, with the full consent of all students or parents, she can engender a feeling of positive competence during tests or soothe frustration and promote calm when a student is struggling to understand something. Annie’s always careful to explain what she’s doing before she does it, so the students understand those feelings are a temporary boost—similar to mood-altering medication, but without any side effects.

I observe the room carefully as she introduces herself and demonstrates her gift. The youngest students don’t really seem to notice, but the parents and older kids do, and despite the concerns of the council, there’s no fear or anger. This is going even better than I’d hoped.

Sid’s introduction and demonstration are well received, as I expected. He’s used to working with small children, and his sorcery talent includes the ability to manipulate light, so he gives silent, colorful miniature fireworks displays that are completely safe and don’t stink up the room with smoke. It’s always popular, and the whole room is oohing and ahhing and applauding when he’s done.

I give them a moment to settle, then take command of the room again, reiterating the schedule for the school day and sending the kids to their classrooms. Primary-age kids are in one room, with Sid as their teacher, and the teens are in another, instructed by Annie. I’ll be floating between rooms, helping when things are busy and overseeing when necessary.

As people start filtering out, I notice a small crowd clustered near one of the doors. My gaze snags on one head in particular: Asher. Even from behind, I’d know him anywhere… now. But what’s he doing here? His mother came to reintroduce Chloe to the school, and his aunt is here as well, with her son Isaac.

I head in that direction. Whatever he’s doing, it’s distracting people and may disrupt classes. That’s not acceptable.

He sees me coming and smiles. Not a smile designed for me to be able to see, but even after only ten days, I’m much better at reading demon expressions, and he’s definitely smiling. There’s also a distinct glimmer in his eye that makes me remember the way he wrung every last drop of energy from my body last night, fucking me until I couldn’t have said what my name was. Including sex in our agreement was one of the smartest things I’ve ever done. The man is immensely talented.

“Hi,” he says, his voice stroking over me like a caress. “I missed you this morning. You were gone before I woke.”

Acutely aware of all the listening ears, I hasten to cover the last few feet between us so he can lower his voice. “I had a lot to do for the first day.”

“Hmm, but I was hoping—” He cuts off abruptly when I give him a death glare, then smoothly says, “I was hoping to make you pancakes for breakfast.”

One of the nearby parents chuckles. “I bet you were.”

Asher pauses in leaning toward me to turn a cold stare on the man. “I beg your pardon?”

The parent takes a quick step back. “Nothing. Have a nice day.” He grabs his kid and hastens toward the elementary classroom.

“Nice trick,” I say dryly as Asher’s gimlet gaze follows the man.

“Nobody gets to speak disrespectfully about you,” he mutters.

“Then don’t give them the opening to.” If he thinks he’s not at fault, I’ll happily disabuse him of that notion.

I’m so busy mentally composing the lecture I plan to give him that I don’t notice him leaning toward me—again—until his lips land on mine. I jerk back so fast, I almost overbalance. It’s only my shifter reflexes that keep me upright.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, darting a glance around the room. There are still plenty of people here, and some of them are watching avidly. There’s no chance they didn’t see us kissing in my workplace.

My reputation for professionalism is going out the window.

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