Page 14 of Demon Kissed
“Come on!” I instruct as I throw our clothes into our suitcases at random. I didn’t bother to pay for more than one night here. I’m hoping the new locks will be in place by now, and I can enjoy tonight in my own bed. My own, sperm-free, germ-free bed. Sounds like heaven.
I hurry towards the car, buckle Adam in, then speed towards his preschool, fortunately located only a few minutes away from Lakewood Prep, the fancy private school my parents pay for me to attend.
“Running a little late, are you, girly?” Sasha Loo raises a blonde brow as I hurry through the door, breathing ragged and sweat plastering stray strands of hair to my head. I’ve always liked Sasha, one of the three teachers of Lakewood Preschool. She’s only a few years older than me and has a witty sense of humor.
“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” I gasp as I pull Adam along after me. “I forgot to set an alarm.”
As soon as Adam sees his friends, he races away from me, a smile lighting up his face. A tiny pang shoots through me at how easily he can dismiss me, but I push that voice away. He’s a kid, and despite all I do for him, I’m not his mother. It’s just…hard.
“Hurry to class, girly. We have him!” Sasha waves me away dismissively, and after thanking her profusely, I hurry back to my car. Hopefully, I’ll get to school in time for second period.
And hopefully, the office ladies won’t call my parents.
This late, I’m forced to park in Nowhere Land, a good walk from the main building.
Cursing, I grab my backpack from the backseat, lock my car, and hurry towards the main office.
Lakewood Prep is exactly how you would picture a prestigious private school. Everything seems…more. I don’t know how to eloquently articulate what I mean, but even the bricks composing the main academic building seem newer. Cleaner. Only the best for us rich pricks, am I right?
Fortunately, the receptionist doesn’t question my late appearance. After signing in, she hands me a pass and instructs me to head straight to my second period class.
I’ve never been late in my life. Ever. I have perfect attendance. I even went to school when my appendix was threatening to burst—though I wouldn’t recommend doing that.
I’m panting by the time I make it to AP World History, a class that’s annoyingly on the other side of the building from the front entrance. It’s also one of the few classes I have with William.
Smoothing down my wayward strands of hair—so as to not look like a clown that has been peed on, stomped on, and then run over by a clown car—I take another deep breath.
You got this, Katrina. You got this.
With that mental pep talk, I stride into my classroom, an apology already on the tip of my tongue when Mr. White turns towards me. But that apology dies on my lips when I see a new student sitting in the seat beside mine. A new,familiarstudent.
Zolroth flashes me a smile, pearly white teeth on display, and I swear a part of my soul shrivels up and dies a painful death.
Fuck. Me.
6
It’s official—I’mgoing to sell all of my earthly belongings and move to Costa Rica. Why? No reason, but I’m pretty sure anywhere is better than here.
Zolroth looks like a Greek god coming to smite us undeserving, lowly servants. His dark, flawless skin practically shines in the artificial lights, and his even darker, buzzed hair showcases a face that makes angels weep. He’s wearing the standard academy uniform, but no one with eyes could possibly mistake him for a student. He’s just…better. Better than anyone in this school, if I’m being completely honest. Handsomer. Larger. Sexier. He’s sin and sex personified. Ironic, considering that he claims to be a freaking demon. I wouldn’t believe that by looking at him. Everything about him—from his elegant facial features, to his lush lips, to his muscular body—seems to be hewn from heavenly grace…or whatever they use up there to make angels.
One thing is certain—Zolroth is bad for my soul. And my ovaries, but we’re not going to talk about that.
The class begins to whisper amongst themselves, staring up at me with amusement, and I realize I’m standing in the front of the room with my mouth hanging open. Mr. White clears his throat and quirks a brow in my direction.
“Miss Colt, are you alright?” he questions, and the class breaks into laughter, basking in my embarrassment. Zolroth continues to smile at me blindingly from his seat in the back.
I can’t help but notice William sitting near the front of the classroom. Unlike the others, he’s watching me with concern instead of amusement, and somehow, that soothes my ravaged emotions.
“I…um…” I desperately volley my gaze between Mr. White, the lone empty seat, and Zolroth. The only empty chair in the room is right next to him. Is he stalking me? That’s the only logical explanation. Surely, he’s not actually a high school student. No one can possibly believe that shit, can they?
High school guys are awkward and rude and gangly. There’s nothing gangly about Zolroth. He’s got this posh sophistication, like he’s one of those twenty-five-year-old actors that movies hire to play teenagers. But Mr. White doesn’t give him a second glance. The teacher’s hard eyes are only on me.
“Take a seat.” Mr. White’s tone brooks no room for argument. With only slight trepidation, I hurry down the aisle, my head ducked to avoid the leering and amused stares from my classmates.
I make sure to sit as far away from Zolroth as possible. Did the desks get closer together? Or am I imagining things?
And why, pray tell me, is he staring at me with that gorgeous, damning smile?
