Page 30 of Validus Vale Academy 1
A coil of darkness stirs in the pit of my stomach. I want to punish her, and what better way than making her bound to me? Until I have my brothers back, this little mouse is going to be at my beck and call.
She trembles at my feet, and I make the decision. “I’m binding you,” I tell her. “Show me your neck.”
Fear flares in her eyes, and Gods, I relish the sight. With shaking fingers, she pushes aside that rat’s nest of hair, exposing a pale, vulnerable stretch of skin from her chin to her collarbone. Bare and ready for my mark. I draw the darkness up through my hands, then send the swirl of power forward. I don’t bother trying to be gentle.
She cries out as the mark burns into her fragile skin. It’s over in a moment. “Now stand,” I command, stepping forward to examine the black sigil etched into her. I’ve only marked two others before, the ‘traitors’ my father gave me to practice the skill on. Controlling them had been satisfying, a tangible extension ofmy will. But this binding suddenly doesn’t feel exhilarating; it’s more like ashes in my mouth.
“I’m now your master,” I tell her, my voice flat. “And will be until I decide otherwise—understand?”
“I understand,” she whispers, her voice barely a breath.
“Good. Now fuck off. I’ll be in touch soon.”
She stands frozen for a beat, then whirls and bolts for the door. I hear the frantic echo of her footsteps receding down the corridor as she runs, like she’s trying to outrun the devil himself.
Good luck with that.
My hand moves to the invisible mark on my own skin, a mirror of the one I just branded onto her. Gods, I’m so fucking tired.
Tired and empty. I’ve never truly felt whole, but the closest I ever came was with them, my brothers. How the hell could they just walk away?
And why haven’t they come back?
13
The little Nymph stumbles out of Electis Tower.
The wind carries her scent, and I smell distress through the sweat of her body and salt of her tears.
And something else. She’s been drenched in the stench of Elites—and dark magic.
Those Elite devils
Violence ripples through my body, and the urge to destroy is pulsing through me. Long ago, I’d learned to keep to the shadows; it was the only way to avoid the pain. The excruciating pain.
Shaking my head to dislodge the fingers of despair from my brain, I move quickly to follow the nymph. I shadow her all the way back to my, her—our—basement. Relief fills me when I see her disappear down the staircase. In the twenty-four hours since I first saw her, I have experienced more emotions than the rest of my adult life put together.
The eternal state of numbness is leaving me.
Once I determine she is staying safely back in her room, I retrace my steps to stalk the devils and find which one hurt her.
Approaching the tower, I see the entrance door opening, and press myself into the deep dark. I hear footsteps, quick and impatient. I see the blonde Elite, the one who lives on the topfloor. As he passes by, not seeing me, I smell the nymph all over him. It enrages me. He hurt her, so now I must hurt him. There is no other option.
The Elite devil heads to the school garages where the rich boys keep their cars. If he’s going off the grounds, I’ll follow him. It may be better to hurt him away from the Academy anyway.
My bike is close to the garages, behind a low wall covered with a brown tarp.
After a couple of tries, it fires up, and keeping my headlight off, I follow the Devil’s dark blue sports car as he drives past security guards and cameras. There is someone I don’t recognize at the guard house, a man in a black leather jacket who watches the Devil’s car with interest as it shoots off onto the country road. The stranger and I meet eyes, and for a second, I think he’s familiar. The jagged scar running the length of his face itches in my brain.
The next moment, the man with a scar is left behind as I ride fast. I push my bike to its limits to keep up. I don’t often experience pleasure, but speed makes me feel temporarily alive.
Scenery blurs as I tail him. I think I know where we’re heading.
Passing through the town and out to the farmland beyond, the narrow road leads to an old building that’s been converted into a place for drinking and fighting. All the devils like to slum there. The blonde one skids to a halt, parking carelessly as I push my bike behind a dumpster. There are dozens of vehicles in the lot. The sound of shouting and beating music leaks out of the doors as two men wave him in. A minute later, I’m also entering with no fuss or bother. The men at the door nod, like they recognize this is a place I belong.
The scent of aggression is everywhere, along with alcohol, cigarettes, and stale sweat. Even though the place is packed, theDevil still draws attention as he heads to the bar. No one notices me, which is how I like it.
He orders, then throws back a shot, quickly tapping the glass on the bartop, calling for a refill. That’s good. Alcohol dulls reflexes and loosens tongues, which is why I do not drink it.
