Page 21 of Laid Bare

“Dude, go put some damn clothes on. No one needs to see your dicks flapping all willy nilly,” I grumble, barely holding back the laugh that wants to burst free. He’d spit hellfire if I laughed at his desperation.

“But…” he trails off, his shoulders and wings sagging like a kicked puppy. That can only mean one thing. Whoever made a ruckus in the hall wasn’t her.

“You’ll see her tomorrow.” We both will. But fuck, what in Lucifer’s saggy balls is wrong with me? She’s not mine. Not that I know of, anyway.

But she could be, my brain whispers mockingly.

Well brain, I think to myself,you’re right. It looks like I’ll have to find a way to strike a deal with my Snow.

But I don’t want her soul in return.

I want her heart.

The ding of my personal phone from my pocket pulls me from my mushy thoughts. Slipping it out, there’s a text message waiting from an unknown number—one I’ve never seen before. Very few people actually have the number to this line, and before we left Hell, we turned off and put away our business cells, leaving the day-to-day running to a trusted friend. So, for someone to randomly have this number, leaves me feeling all kinds of suspicious.

“Zane,” I mutter, my finger hovering over the awaiting message. “Do you recognize this number?”

“Which one?” He swaggers over, still unclothed, his dicks flopping against his thigh with every step. Being my brother, I’ve seen the demon naked more times than I can count. Hell, we’ve shared women between us, but I’ve never seen him so damn desperate that he’d risk running into the hall butt-ass naked and scaring the life out of the clearly inexperienced curiomancer hottie.

Because I know, with full confidence, she’s never seen a man with two cocks before, and for someone like her, someone raised in the human sectors, it can be a jarring sight.

Luckily, instead of sitting down next to me, he stands behind the couch I’m perched on, leaning over the back to look over my shoulder.

Zane clicks his forked tongue. “Never seen it before. What do they want?”

That’s the question of the day, isn’t it?

With a press of my thumb, the message pops open and a high-pitched noise emits from the attached audio recording. My limbs freeze like someone pressed the pause button on life, and everything goes dark.

The last thought I have swirling around my brain is: this can’t be good.

Mondays freaking suck.

And this one is going to be the worst of them all.

My necklace, the one thing I had to keep myself hidden, is long gone, and now here I am, getting ready for classes in my true skin.

My curiomancer skin.

Runes and all on full display for the entire academy to see. To fear. To look at me in disgust and remember the decree that I should be dead. But hopefully, they’ll remember that I’m now protected. And if they don’t remember, well, I’m sure the two big scary badasses next door will remind them.

Not that I think it’ll stop the cruel whispers I know are coming my way, but maybe they’ll think twice before making a move.

The hot water rushing over my skin is a welcome reprieve from the cold bed I woke up in this morning. My mates left last night, wanting me to get a good night’s rest before returning to classes today. But that was a joke. I haven’t really slept all that well the past couple of nights. Not that they know it.

It was the first time I’ve truly been alone since the gala, and I hated every minute of it. My mind kept replaying the entire gala, from the moment we pulled up and I watched all the supernaturals flash across the screen—minus one—to the second we entered the limo and drove away from my own slice of fresh hell.

Part of me hoped this was one long ass nightmare, and when I woke up this morning, it would be Friday again, the day of the gala. But that seems to be all I've been doing lately. Hoping that this was all a nightmare. That I’d wake up. It just hasn’t happened. And it won’t. Because this is real life.

Just like it was when I hoped becoming a supernatural was a nightmare to wake up from.

But I’m just delusional, and this is my new normal.

After shutting off the water and climbing out, I wrap a fluffy towel around myself, letting the excess run rivulets down my flesh. Condensation clings to the mirror in front of me, obscuring the new features I’ve slowly gotten used to looking at. Tilting my head, I look at the blurred figure gazing back at me, wondering when she’ll finally get her shit together. As much as I like to pretend, I, in fact, do not have my shit together.

I’m a gods-damned mess.

My magic seems to react to my negative thoughts, zipping around my body like an uncontrollable firework wreaking havoc. A harsh gasp escapes my lips and my limbs tremble with every circuit my magic makes.Godsdamn. This isn’t pleasant.

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