Page 20 of Satanic Shadow
Silence, and Dane lowers his gaze to the ground. “I’m aware.”
Nodding at the meaning behind his quietness, I take a deep breath. “Now you ask me something. We need to get this task out of the way.”
He pays me no heed as he paces the room for far too long. Stops. Paces. Stops. And I want to throw my phone at his head.
“I don’t know what to ask you.”
I huff as Dane leans against my dresser in his dress pants and shirt, the top two buttons still undone, his tie resting across his shoulders. He’s rolled up his sleeves again, and to my dismay, I allow myself to look at the veins on his forearms.
He shoves his hands into his pockets and pushes himself away from the dresser. “This is ridiculous. What am I supposed to ask you? Your fucking favorite color? I can’t stand your presence, and now I’m stuck with you. What I want to know is why?”
I roll my eyes. “I can’t answer that. Ask me something else or leave. I don’t have time for your dramatics, Dane.”
He sighs, chewing on his bottom lip. “If I were to cut you, what color would your blood be?”
I drop my back to the mattress and stare at the swirling shadows, calm and free. The opposite of how I feel. “I hate you.”
“The feeling is mutual. Answer the question, mortal.”
“Red. Happy? My turn. Why are you such a dick to me?”
He shrugs. “You shouldn’t be here, and I simply don’t like you.” He turns and studies the papers on my dresser, then looks at the pictures on the wall as he asks, “Are you a virgin?”
He spins to face me when I don’t give him a response. I scowl before giving in. “Obviously I’m not.”
His eyes take in the full length of my body, clad in my uniform. There’s a hint of anger in his tone with his next words. “Yes. It is obvious.”
“Because I’m nothing but a warm body?”
He hums. “Yep. Yet you did mention having a boyfriend before.” He grits his teeth as he says the word “boyfriend,” like the mere thought of me having a partner makes him sick.
I don’t show any emotion on my face that shows the last part isn’t even remotely true. “Are you a virgin?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
He smirks. “By far the opposite.” Then he wipes the smile off his face. “What sad excuse for a human would ever fuck you? Who is he?”
I could explain my last encounter with Grayson, if he wants the details, but it would sound extremely boring. Instead, I pace. “My next question: why don’t you know your age?”
“It was my turn to ask something. Age is just a number and unnecessary.” He suddenly winces in pain, folding forward, and I look at him in confusion. “Fuck. The questions are spelled. I can’t lie.”
“What did you lie about?”
“I don’t know my age because…” He grits his teeth, gasping. “Fucking hell. I don’t know my age because I don’t fucking know.” The pain stops, and he catches his breath. “After a while, we lose track. I don’t know how old I am.”
Oh.
“That’s quite sad actually.”
His eyes darken, and the shadows on my walls gather. “Do not pity me. I am, and always will be, above you.”
“Great. Next question.”
He closes the distance between us, until I’m nearly snapping my neck to look up at his towering form from my bed. “Why are you here?”
I stand, so we’re nearly head to chest. “I already said I don’t know! Do you want to kill me?” I counter with my last question, desperate to end this. I should ask why I can feel him, his emotions and his presence, but these are the first questions that come to mind.
I’ll ask later.
“Yes,” he says, and when no pain comes his way, I clench my jaw and fists.
