Page 12 of The Demon's Due
The air wasn’t air at all-it pressed thick and fluid, clinging to her skin. Each step felt like moving through quicksand. She lifted her hand and pushed forward, and the world seemed to ripple. She pushed through and stumbled into a place she had never seen before.
An arid wasteland stretched under a starless night. Dust curled into spirals that whipped toward the looming outline of stone walls. Torches burned along the battlements, their flames guttering in the wind. Silhouetted figures patrolled, and as she drew closer, their shapes sharpened into warriors in armor, the helmets crowned with horns that forked like lightning.
But as one separated from the others, she had to blink to make sure she wasn't seeing things.
Those horns weren’t helmets at all.
They spiraled from his black ridged skull, gleaming ivory in the torchlight. Long dark hair spilled over muscular shoulders. The body was humanoid but not quite human-the angles weretoo sharp, his body too big. And his eyes-deep, endless gold-pinned her where she stood, wonder flickering in their depths.
He spoke, the words rolling low and strange, a language she didn’t understand. With each syllable, the air shimmered hotter and heavier, until her skin felt blistered from the heat. She gasped, burning, consumed-
And woke.
Cam’s face hovered over her, worry pulling her brow tight. “Where did you go? God, you’re burning up.” She touched her forehead, then pulled back quickly. “What happened at the party? Síofra, you just disappeared. And there was that fuckup at the bonfire. And all those strange noises from the castle.”
Síofra blinked at her, disoriented. Her throat scraped when she whispered, “Coffee.”
“You need water, not coffee. Was it Morgan?” Cam fumed, “That prick-who does he think he is?”
“Morgan didn’t hurt me”,Síofra muttered groggily, not quite meeting Cams’s eyes.
“ All kinds of shit goes down on Halloween. One of the students has gone missing -no one knows where she is and there are search parties out. I was worried sick.”
Her head pounded, her body too heavy, her skin aflame. Slowly the memories from the day before tricked in-the ghastly touch-and Morgan turning into a wolf? He saidMate? “Shower,” she murmured, forcing herself upright.
She didn’t bother with modesty, stripping on the way to the bathroom, clothes pooling on the floor. Winter’s chill meant nothing when she was burning up. She stepped into a torrent of cold water, letting it bite into her fevered skin until she felt she wasn't going to spontaneously combust and turn into a pile of ash..
By the time she staggered out, wrapped in a towel, she felt semi-human again. But the images from the nightmare clunglike smoke- red sands shifting beneath her feet, a towering figure of fire and shadow, embers glowing under skin carved like stone, golden eyes burning into hers.
She shook it off.
Mate.
She tasted the word, turning it around in her brain.. Morgan’s voice claiming her. Morgan’s eyes on her like she was the only woman in the world.
Mate.
Could he have meant…her?
And if she was his mate-how could he have done this to her? Since her first year on campus, she had learned quite a lot about the creatures she thought were myths. Werewolves treasured their mates. They became obsessive and did not like others getting close. Meanwhile he had turned her into the biggest joke on campus. The desperate ginger cow. That particular insult from Alia burned like acid. She was supposed to be his and he was disappointed? Was that why he did this to her, his own mate?
Her hands trembled as she dressed quickly, choosing the thinnest tank she owned and a pair of jeans. The air still felt stifling against her skin, but at least she could breathe now.
“Is that really all you’re going to wear?” Cam’s voice made her glance up. She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, studying her with a look she couldn’t quite read.
There was much she wanted to tell Cam, but later. She grabbed the bottle of water on her desk and drank it down in heavy gulps, throat aching with thirst.
Cam’s uneasy gaze lingered, but she held her tongue.
They got their books and made their way to class.
But the moment Síofra crossed the threshold of the common hall, she felt it. Eyes. Not the casual, curious glances she was used to-this was something else. The attention was burning andheavy. She didn’t need to turn to know Morgan had fallen in step behind her. Somehow she knew. He smelt of all the best things in life-cinnamon buns and peppermint. And underneath that there was Morgan and the smell of a bonfire. Awareness crawled over her skin, sinking deep,and climbing her spine like the trace of claws. She swallowed hard, staring straight ahead.
Chapter 8
Síofra was having a very bad day.
Morgan trailed her like a shadow. Whenever she turned her head, he wasn’t there. And yet she could feel him, a constant weight pressing into her space.
