Page 66 of Satanic Shadow
Then my eyes go wide. “Wait. You tucked me into bed?”
“I had to—you were cold.” He glances at the shadows gathering in my walls, the ones that keep me company. They don’t cower the way they did with Valin. His stare stays on the little girl, and she doesn’t hide. If anything, she tries to step towards him. He looks away quickly. “And your tattoo was bleeding. I had to… contain it.”
“Meaning?”
“It was trying to spread, and I stopped it. Are you done asking questions?”
My bare foot slips on something wet on the floor, and I grab the side unit to stop myself from falling. Dane doesn’t flinch, doesn’t do a thing to try to help me. Not that I needed it. I scowl at him anyway then glance down at the floor.
I pale. “Why is there a puddle of blood on my floor?”
I look up at Dane, and he just stares at me, his calm and controlled expression unchanged. “I forgot to clean it.” He removes his hand from his pocket, flicks a finger, and the mess is gone. “I told you—your tattoo was bleeding.”
I touch the sensitive skin at the back of my neck, the swollen ink burning still.
The shadow prince walks over and sits on my bed, leaning back on his elbows. “We have mortal studies today, something about music and television. But then we have practice. Please tell me you know how to dance?”
“What? Practice for what?”
He smirks like the devil himself. “The ball at the end of term. Didn’t you hear? You’re my date, little mortal.”
Without letting me throw him a retort or argue, he vanishes, taking the electrical charge of the room with him, along with the shirt I’m wearing and the shorts hanging from my hips.
20
On my first day here in the academy, a tall guy with wavy white hair told me I didn’t belong here, that I’d be ripped apart by the end of that week. He told everyone that I was a whore and human filth, that I carried a highly contagious sickness. If they knew what was good for them, they’d steer clear of me. He even went as far as burning my books, locking me in my room so I’d be late for class, and volunteering me to help him show the class how to defeat an enemy with one hand.
Me being the enemy. Also the one who lay on the ground and wished death upon him.
The twins were the only ones who saw through his lies.
Now he’s walking into my mortal studies class ten minutes late, and I’m trying to pretend I’m not gravitating towards him. It’s like our souls are trying to intertwine and rule the world, magnetic and charged and desperate to look at each other, to touch and taste and be close.
It’s been four hours, and as pathetic as it is, I have to admit that as soon as he left my room and I bathed, I relived everymoment of last night in my head while I slipped my hand between my legs.
I swallow and look down at my notes—a bulleted list of my favorite musical artists.
The back of my neck itches as I bring my attention to the twins’ third fight of the morning.
Despite being princesses, they argue like any other siblings when it comes to fashion and makeup and style. Mel finds it ridiculous that humans find release and calmness from music, and Poppy looks like she wants to hex her into next week when Mel says the music playing on the professor’s magical box is giving her a headache.
We haven’t even gotten to the bands.
They’ve been at it for hours. Poppy was, and still is, wearing Mel’s top, which Mel thinks is a heinous crime. I witnessed them rolling across the corridor with fists flying as soon as I met them in our dorm hall, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t split them up.
I ended up sitting on the stone stairs until they gave up trying to kill each other. I even looked at messages between me and Dane to pass the time and contemplated talking to him. But either he’d have taken a week to reply, or he’d ignore me and tell the school I’m a whore again.
My heart rate picks up as Dane sits right next to me, intentionally pressing his thigh against mine.
“What are you doing?” I ask through gritted teeth, whispering so no one can hear me. “Sit elsewhere.”
“Nope.”
And he doesn’t. For the next three hours, the professor talks about different genres of music in the mortal world, how musicians make their money, and the fame behind them. She even mentions YouTube, and how the website launched multiple worldwide artists.
Dane doesn’t seem even slightly impressed by the fact humans work hard for their earnings. He’s naturally rich. Born into a family who probably bathes in gold. From Poppy’s calculations, and conversion rates that shouldn’t exist, Dane is worth hundreds of billions.
Yes, billions.
