Page 64 of Satanic Shadow
Then my throat closes up, and my skin splits, blood draining out of my neck as if I’ve been stabbed.
A little girl appears before me, holding her hand out for me to take. She has silver eyes, a sweet smile, and the whitest of white hair that reaches her waist.
Large, firm hands snatch my shoulders from behind and shake me hard. Hard enough that my spine nearly snaps. Yet no pain follows, even with the rising panic of dying. I’m a vessel with no nerve endings, no hope or life or future as my lungs no longer burn, and the blood no longer puddles at my feet.
The little girl vanishes with a puff of black smoke, and the sky lights up red, an inferno blazing through it.
The person shakes me again, again, and finally manages to turn me to look at them just as a blinding light flashes, an explosion so extreme my heart restarts, and I’m pulled from my nightmare.
I gasp and throw myself into a sitting position, sweat dripping down my face and back, my lungs heaving in as much air as possible. My chest is tight, my hair sticking to my neck.
These dreams are becoming more insane.
My hands are fine. They look fine, and I have clothes on.
I stare at the shirt I’m still wearing, the top two buttons unfastened. The cotton shorts on my bottom half are far too big, sliding down my hips. Strange. Everyone in the castle dresses like they shouldbe in a castle, even the ones trying out a new style for fitting in with humans.
Why am I wearing gray cotton shorts I’d usually see in my world and a white dress shirt far too big for me?
My lips feel swollen as I touch them with my fingertips, and everything from last night comes back to me. Hands all over my body, his mouth on mine, sucking his tongue and tasting every drop of sin, feeling him between my legs as he palms my breast on his oak desk.
A desirable sensation passes through me, my cheeks heating. I need more. Want more. The feeling is intense, as if my body can sense him close to me and is seeking him out. Hunting. Obsessing over his touch.
With the lingering scent of fire and death is a mix of everything Dane Dalton.
And I need to snap the hell out of it before I actually throw myself from the tallest tower. Knowing my luck, that’s where Dane’s room is.
The shadows in my walls watch me as I toss my covers off and head to the bathroom, the tattoo still burning at the nape of my neck. It sizzles when I press a cold compress to it, and I hiss, screwing my eyes shut with the sting. Touching it, I feel the deep ridges of the ink, the swollen skin around it.
My hair keeps sticking to it, so I pull it into a ponytail then wrap it into a bun at the top of my head. I press the cold cloth to the tattoo again and try to see it in the mirror. Only having one makes it impossible, so I sigh and hunt for an antiseptic cream in the bag of toiletries Poppy gave me.
I find a white tub of soothing balm, so I gather a generous amount on my fingers and reach up to smooth it over the burning ink.
“It’ll only get worse if you try to heal it.”
I freeze, glancing through the mirror at Dane behind me. His sleeves are uncuffed, the top four buttons unfastened on his shirt, and his hair is a mess, as if he’s just woken up. I drop my head. A migraine is building, and I can’t be bothered with his snarky comments or bossy attitude. “Go away.”
“It doesn’t want to be healed, so stop what you’re doing before it gets worse.”
“I think I’ll take my chances,” I reply bluntly, hissing again as I cover the area with the balm. “Why are you here?”
He leans his shoulder against the doorframe and shrugs. “It’s not by choice. I had to babysit you because you kept screaming in your sleep. Do you know how unattractive that is?”
I glare at his tired eyes. “Go away, Dane.”
The idiot laughs. “Always trying to push me away, mortal. Do you forget we’re basically tethered to one another?”
I throw down the cloth. “For the insufferable assignments and security measures, yes.” Although he’s barely adhered to those. “After that’s all done, stay the hell away from me.”
“We are partnered up for every class until the end of the year. What makes you think after task ten you’ll be free of me?” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond as he pushes off the doorframe, shoves his hands in his pockets, and closes the distance between us. He whispers against my ear as our eyes clash in the mirror. “You’ll never be free of me. That’s a promise. After we’re done with the academy, I will follow you to the ends of your world and make your meaningless life hell.”
“Such a big mouth for someone who never follows through with his threats. It’s embarrassing how much you try to scare me, try to dominate me with your words and presence.” Against my better judgment, I keep going. “You don’t scare me, and you never will.”
A cold gust of air brushes against my ear as Dane backs away, not once breaking eye contact. “You should be scared of me. I don’t think you understand the power I wield.”
I snort. “I couldn’t care less, if I’m honest.”
He opens his palm, finally looking away to stare at it intently. I almost scoff at his ridiculousness but hold my breath as tendrils of smoke twirl around each finger and his wrist until a ball of black forms. Electric forks snap from it, the miniature storm in his hand filled with anger and the need to destroy, and as he flexes his fingers, it grows in size.
