Page 16 of Demon Kissed
“Had to leave my house,” I blurt. “Got a hotel room. Because of the…bad taco,” I finish lamely, forking my fingers through my vibrant pink hair. Why the hell does my brain do this? It’s torture. Full-on demonic torture. I swear, ninety-nine percent of the time, I’m a fully-functioning individual. It’s whenever I see William that I just can’t seem to word.
“That’s—”
I never get to hear what William thinks of my taco incident.
His eyes widen suddenly as he stares at something over my shoulder. I don’t need to look to know thatheis creeping up behind me like some sort of parasitic beast.
“Hey, Katrina,” Zolroth rumbles, his voice an almost physical caress over my skin. I try my damndest not to shiver as goosebumps skitter up and down my arms. “I’d be willing to take that tour now.” He moves to stand directly beside me, his arm brushing mine with every breath he takes.
“Huh?”
What the bloody fuck is he talking about now? And why the hell is my brain using British curse words?
Is this a new stalker method? Confuse the shit out of your stalkee?
“What?” William asks sharply, eyes narrowing into slits. He stares between the two of us, dozens of questions bubbling to life in his vibrant, honey eyes. I could be mistaken, I usually am, but it almost appears as if he’s jealous.
But that’s comical, right?
William Washington would never be jealous over me.
“Katrina here agreed to give me a tour of the school,” Zolroth continues in that charming accent of his. I mean, that disgusting accent of his that makes me want to vomit.
I’m too flabbergasted to contradict him.
What the what of the what?
William’s lips purse delicately as he stares at me intently, almost as if he has just seen me clearly for the first time in his life.
“Oh. I see you. I guess I’ll talk to you later, Katrina?” His voice starts off confident, cocky almost, but it wavers towards the end, turning the statement into a tentative question.
“Oh, yeah. Definitely. We can’t really talk in gym, but AP Lit will be lit.” And then, to add fuel to my shame fire, I fist pump the air. Because I’m just that horrifically awkward.
AP Lit will be lit?!? Really?
I’m dimly aware of Zolroth grabbing my elbow, his touch tantalizingly soft, as he steers me in the opposite direction of William Washington, aka the love of my life.
“What…what?” I finally muster enough willpower to wrench my arm away from Zolroth’s. “What the fucking hell are you doing?”
“Granting your wish, of course,” Zolroth responds with a soft smile. “You want that William guy to love you, correct?”
“What? No!” Heat engulfs both of my cheeks, and I cast a glance in both directions to ensure no one has overheard his statement. Fortunately, the halls have emptied out, and even William has retreated to his third hour class, one of the few he shares with me. “Keep your voice down, will you?” I hiss, quickening my pace.
Third period for me is gym class—the bane of my existence. I envy the men and women capable of running a full mile without going into cardiac arrest. Seriously, mad respect from me. Our gym teacher, Mr. Harthorne, is a hardass who once served in the U.S. Marines. Since he retired ten years ago, he decided his skills were better served in torturing high school students.
When Zolroth continues to keep pace with me, that damn, unrepentant smile firmly in place, I cast him a glare capable of curdling milk. “Why are you following me?”
“We have third hour together,” he responds cheekily. When I stop walking and stare up at him, dumbfounded, he boops my nose.
Boops my freaking nose.
Gracing me with another one of his stupidly perfect smiles, he continues walking in the direction of the gym. After a brief moment of hesitation, I hurry to keep pace with him. Since we went in the opposite direction of William, we’re forced to take the long way through the halls. I have to endure an extra two minutes with my hideously sexy tormenter.
“I meant, why are you stalking me? Why are you here?”
He rolls his eyes as if my questions are nothing but an annoying inconvenience. “I told you, sweetheart. You summoned us, and we can’t leave until we grant your wish.”
“First, don’t call me sweetheart.” I shudder at the term of endearment. Just who does this fucker think he is? Sure, he’s sexy as hell (pun unintended), but he’s also certifiably insane. “And second, I didn’t summon you, because demons aren’t real, and thus, you’re not a demon.”
