Page 17 of Demon Kissed
Logic, my friends.
A nagging voice in my head conjures up images of Asshole’s—excuse me, Raz’s—red eyes and those keen horns protruding from the top of his head.
I sweep those images beneath the proverbial rug, happy to live in denial for a moment longer.
We’re silent the rest of the way, but I can feel Zolroth’s eyes on me like a brand—the type used to mark cattle. That’s what I am to him, after all. Prey. He’s the big, nasty predator, and I’m nothing but the trembling, terrified little girl who he thinks he can destroy.
Not today, Satan. Not today.
Without bidding him a goodbye, I hurry into the girl’s locker room, only breathing easier when he’s completely out of view.
“Did you see him?”
The whispered words float to me as I change out of my uniform and into the school-issued shorts and T-shirt combo.
Are they talking about Zolroth? Because, yes, I most definitely saw him.
“He’s so hot,” another girl exclaims with a giddy laugh.
“Off-limits,” a third voice snipes. “Too bad, though. I would ride him for days.”
Off-limits?
My confusion grows as Stacy hurries into the locker room and opens up the locker beside mine. As she changes into her gym uniform, I notice that she forgoes a bra, her nipples on display through the thin shirt. Come to think of it…all of the girls are choosing not to wear a bra today.
“Did you see him?” my best friend whispers with a nervous laugh.
“Zolroth?” I question. I know that we’re a small school, but I’m surprised news already traveled this fast.
But when Stacy’s brows furrow in confusion, I realize there’s more going on than I initially expected.
And that scares the shit out of me.
“No, I meant Mr. Dämon.”
“Mr. Dämon?” I repeat in disbelief. I get goosebumps all over my arms, and the taco lie feels like it might become a reality as my stomach gurgles nervously. Does she realize thatdämonis German for demon? Or am I the only one who decided to take German instead of Spanish this semester?
“The new gym teacher!” She practically bounces on her feet. Pausing abruptly, she gives my chest a disapproving once-over. “And I would recommend taking that off.”
Ignoring her super-duper helpful advice, I follow the line of girls into the gymnasium. Normally, they’d be dragging their feet, coming up with any excuse possible to sit out of class. Periods. Cramps. Dead grandmas. You name it, we use it.
Today, though, not one girl is huddling in the locker room, pretending to be sick. The bleachers are completely full by the time I drag myself to my usual seat near the back.
I spot Zolroth sitting on the opposite side of the room, surrounded by fawning girls, and he lifts his hand to wave when he spots me. I stubbornly turn away, lips compressed in a thin line.
William sits a few rows in front of me. His body is twisted, almost as if he has been watching me, and I feel heat enter both of my cheeks at his attention. He’s so beautiful that it’s sometimes a physical pain to look at him. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something—maybe invite me to sit beside him?—but he quickly clamps it closed as a new voice reverberates through the gym.
“Mr. Harthorne has been called away for the foreseeable future. I’ll be your new gym teacher until he returns,” a rough, growly voice announces, and my breath catches.
Raz—the asshole leader of the crazies, who rifled through my mail—storms out of an office, face contorted into a hideously beautiful sneer. His hair is slicked back, and though he’s wearing sweat pants and a white T-shirt that are standard Lakeside Prep-issue, it doesn’t diminish his natural, raw sex appeal. The fact that his T-shirt looks two sizes too tight and the tips of his angel wing tattoos can be seen cresting the collar is driving the girls in class wild, I’m sure. He has that naughty teacher-vibe going.
His eyes trail over the gathered students before landing on me. When he smiles, it’s not nice. There’s something cruel and malicious in that upwards tilt of his lips, something that causes the tiny hairs on my arms to stand on end.
You know that saying, “stalkers deserve to be kicked in the nuts?” No? You don’t know it?
Well, I really, really wish I could kick both Raz and Zolroth in the nuts. Then I’d call the cops and move myself and Adam as far away from them as possible.
Costa Rica has never looked more promising.
