“I know what you are,” I hissed. I waited to see a crack in his calm facade, hoping to see him twitch with fear.
Instead he said drily. “Do tell. We’ll see if you get it right.”
I blinked rapidly, suddenly doubting myself. Did I dare say it, here and now? I pulled out my phone, nervously looking around at the students passing us by. We were in the middle of the sidewalk alongside the quad, in the open. I opened my photos and held up the screenshot to him.
He narrowed his eyes. “What’s that?”
“That’s you,” I said softly. “Why do you have yellow eyes, Leon? And sharp teeth? Claws?” My hand shook, but I clenched my jaw and plowed on. “What thehellare you?”
“I thought you said youknowwhat I am?” Mischievous sarcasm dripped from his words. “Looks like a good edit to me. I didn’t know you had so much time on your hands.” His fingers twitched, tapping impatiently where they were folded against his arm. “Your lack of cooperation is disappointing. I thought after a good night’s sleep you’d be thinking clearer. But apparently not.”
Suddenly, he slung his arm over my shoulder. I yelped, wiggling, but he squeezed me to his side and started walking, leaving me no choice but to stumble along with him. I fit neatly under his arm, squished into the warmth of his chest and surrounded by his intoxicating scent.
“You and I are going to have a problem, Rae,” he said softly, “if you don’t run home right this instant, get the book, and bring it back to me.” His voice was gentle, but a threat lingered in it: a threat that made tension swell in my abdomen, and made me feel small. All the while we kept walking casually, but I could see where he was going.
We were headed toward University Drive—offcampus.
He cocked his head to look down at me, curiously.
“So tense, Raelynn,” he said. “Would it make you feel better to run? You could get all that nervous energy out.” He chuckled sadistically, as the thought of running from him made me gulp with trepidation. “I’ll catch you again, don’t worry. You can’t get away.”
I took a deep breath, and turned my head to look up at him. He was looking straight ahead, smiling, so damn pleased with himself. I squirmed, trying to remove myself from under his arm. “I’m not giving you shit. I’m not playing your game.”
“No?” He stopped abruptly, turning to me as if he were shocked. “Not in the mood to play? Fine then.”
I wriggled free of his arm—a lot of good it did. His hand whipped out and gripped my face, squeezing my cheeks as he pulled me close and bent down to look me straight in the eyes. “No more games then. We’re going to your house, you’re getting the grimoire, and you’re going to hand it over before this escalates any further.” His eyes were changing. They weren’t so pale green anymore, there was a glow of golden light to them. I was unable to look away, frozen in his gaze. His touch dug into my skin.
“More threats,” I said. We were right at the edge of campus, if I could just get away… “You don’t scare me, Leon. You’re not going to trick me into giving you the grimoire.”
He chuckled, bringing his face close to mine. He examined me, his eyes stroking over me. It was as if his gaze was peeling back my skin, laying bare my bones and all my wicked thoughts. “You don’t even know what tricks I have in store for you yet, Rae,” he said. His free hand tucked my hair back behind my ear, his fingers tracing down over the piercings in my cartilage and making me shiver despite myself. When his fingers reached that tender spot right below my ear, my eyelids fluttered as the overstimulating sensation prickled all the way down my spine.
“Mm, Raelynn...it’s going to be fun breaking that stubborn mask of yours. You have no idea…” Another shudder went over me at the caress of his breath on my ear. “...what absolutelyfilthythings I’m going to do to you.”
My body was betraying me, but I still hadsomeself-preservation left. I jerked from his grasp, pulling away so hard that I stumbled over my own feet and landed hard on my ass. He looked down at me curiously, a sardonic smile making him bare his teeth.
“I thought you said you didn’t want to play?” he said.
Panting, I scrambled to my feet and ran.
Raelynn ran. She ran and every muscle in me went tense as a coiled spring. The intoxicating draught of adrenaline flooding her only made it worse. I had to pause for a moment just to calm myself down, otherwise I’d catch her too quickly and the fun would end.
Humans were, and always had been, our prey. It had been far too long since I’d had the opportunity to hunt.
I strolled after her, following her scent after she disappeared from my sight. She’d walked to campus that day: I swear the woman had no sense of survival at all. The Eld had been swarming for days and yet she insisted on making an easy target of herself. The sooner the grimoire and I were away from her, the better.
She was my summoner, but she’d already, technically, dismissed me. The moment the grimoire was in my hands, I’d be gone from this awful little town and her life would go on as usual. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was no guarantee the monsters would lose interest in her. And the Hadleighs weren’t just going to leave her alone either.
I frowned as I walked, irritation making me quicken my pace. With or without me, the Hadleighs would have Raelynn as their sacrifice, just another victim lost to Abelaum’s notorious bad luck. She’d disappear, her body never to be found. Her friends and family would search, they’d create campaigns and give interviews and weep on live television. But Raelynn would be gone, her soul consumed by a God.
That bothered me.
Whatever. I’d never met a human who wouldn’t leave me for dead and kick me while I was down for good measure. It wasn’t my business what went on in the human world once I was gone. Rae was amusing, but not worth the trouble of risking my life to stay. I’d already wasted time keeping the Eld away from her.
She’d have to fend for herself, and so far, she was doing a terrible job of it.
She was still running, but not towards home, and I was confused until I turned onto a side street and saw a flash of her disappearing—inside the thick oak doors of the Westchurch Cemetery chapel.
Of course she’d run to a church. Typical.