Bitch. He’s not hiding from the cops. He’s scared of theCardells. Aiden only had a minor concussion from their accident and totaled his race car; it’s not like it was a big deal. He’s got more. I’ve seen him polish his precious red Porsche when he parks it in the school’s lot.
Of course, I didn’t learn Aiden’s status fromhim. I found out by listening to a group of Marauders the next night, who gossiped worse than Southern grandmas.Cardell wiped out. Concussion. Walked away.I smiled and nodded, glanced around like it meant nothing.
Then threw up in the alley two minutes later, my hands still shaking.
Talon got away from the wreck while everyone at the starting spot scattered like dandelion puffs as soon as they got wind of the crash. Talon swung by to pick me up, and we were on our way to his family’s place. But that wastwoFridays ago. No one’s going to come for him…
But it fits hisbad boyimage to tell his fellowDeltasthat he’s having to hide out from the fuzz.
Fine. If the asshole does show, I’ll have to come up with a sporadic plan. He saidoncewith me was enough for him… Can he truly mean that?
I don’t think so.
Fluffy gold pigtails flopping at my sides, I catch one lastglimpse of myself in the hall mirror—shiny and unhinged enough to look appetizing to the deranged. Makeup? Deliberately off kilter to entice those who want to smudge it in the best of ways. Maybe on the inside of a thigh or on the flat of a hand after a slap.
Either way,I win.
If he releases wrath on my body? It’s more battle scars for me.
Even if it hurts…
Especiallyif it hurts.
A few rounds of vampire bite shots and zombie brains shooters are passed around in the bar area downstairs. I take each alone in the back of the group while my sisters chant “Ours to Cherish!” loudly enough that I want to hurl the alcohol in their faces to see if it makes their foundation melt off in waves.
No one asks me how my night is going or if I’m having a good time. No one hands me a drink or pulls me onto the dance floor. Even the maze we rented is quickly transformed from minimally engaging entertainment to a make-out spot for voyeurs.
I want to go back to my freshman dorm and get into bed early. Maybe catch up on my shows. But curiosity keeps me hanging on the edge of the room, waiting… Observing.
“I need… Can youplease move?” Scout shoves a pair of glasses up her nose as she steps in front of me. I thought she was going for a nerd look. But now it’s clear, this is how she is.
“Okay…”
“I hate these things,” she says, ignoring my tone, and grabs an anatomy textbook from the ivory-painted shelf behind me. Her mumbled words aren’t directed atme. They’re a statement of declaration.
I nod in solidarity anyway. “Me, too.”
Her intelligent eyes snap to mine. As she tilts her head,strands from her messy brunette bun fall into her face. “Half the people here are going to have mono by Monday,” she says dryly, shoving the pencil behind her ear back into place. Gaze sweeping the room, she flares her nose at a particularly slutty angel costume. “But I guess that’s how natural selection works.”
Of course. The one person to talk to me happens to be teenage sardonic.
But she doesn’t leave me room to reply before she’s off again, heading back toward the stairs.
I can’t decide if I hate her or respect her. Maybe both.
One more breath. One more beat of music. One more eye roll as one of my sisters stumbles from too much spooky juice.
Then the front door swings open.
And in walks Satan himself.
Red, curled devil’s horns crown Aiden’s head, perched above an intricately threaded black and crimson mask that covers his icy-blue eyes—elegant, cruel, andutterly unreadable.
A three-piece, high-neck black suit adorns his tall figure, the tailoring so precise it clings to every line of muscle hewn from years ofself-hatred andthe fear of losing control. His jaw is set to crush diamonds.
And everyone in the room knows what he is.
Not dressed like him. Heisthe devil.