Rock and Ruin

by Saranna Dewylde

  I studied the sweep of his golden hair over his forehead, the sharp line of his jaw, the firm, but plush silhouette of his lips.

  Damn, that mouth of his was the devil.

  I kept thinking about how it would fill with sharp, predator’s teeth. Strange. How something could be so dangerous and still feel so very good. Did he think about biting me as much as I thought about him biting me?

  Logically, I should abhor the thought. But it made my insides feel tight and hot, like I was perched on the edge of something explosive.

  Maybe I belonged at St. Damon’s with the other freaks.

  I tried not to gawk at the other couples in the hallway, but the whole place was like some kind of Roman orgy.

  “Do you like watching them, Ash?”

  My mouth went dry.

  Guilt and shame for watching tried to swamp me, but then I remembered the power of those things. My freedom was always in the truth. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “We have plenty of time to find out.”

  We found an alcove and, to my surprise, there was a desk, a table, and my demonic order textbook.

  “This does not look like the fun I was promised,” I said dryly.

  “You’ll see.” The corner of his mouth quirked up again in an oh-so-hot grin.

  Before I could even ask what he thought he was doing, I found myself tied to the chair.

  “Slow down, Ghost Rider. You are not cleared for takeoff.”

  Nash moved in behind me, his lips against my ear. “Trust me.”

  Did I trust Nash? More than some—definitely much less than others. Unable to count on my tongue to form proper words, I lifted an eyebrow at him.

  “I’ll get to practice my seduction skills, you get to learn your demonic order text, and we’ll both get to feel good.” He turned the chair so that I faced him. “I swear I won’t even flirt with your limits.”

  I swallowed hard. “We’re already way past my limits.”

  “Are we?” He leaned in and pressed his lips against my cheek, breath teasing at the shell of my ear. “I’ll only use my voice. Even when you beg me to touch you.”

  I shivered.

  Truth was, I did want him to touch me. A lot. I wasn’t ready for all of this—the intimacy, being at his mercy. But instead of telling him to let me go, I said, “You can touch me. Just not under the clothes. “

  He laughed. “I won’t hurt you, Ash. If I do, I’ve failed.”

  “You don’t fail at anything. You’re the next Alpha. It’s not allowed.”

  “You’re right. May I proceed?”

  Anticipation knotted in my guts, but I nodded.

  He repositioned my chair so that I was facing the book again and the pages flipped of their own accord to Chapter Three on Ozymandias, the Seventh Duke of Hell and Commander of the Six-Hundred and Sixty-Sixth Legion.

  “We’ll start with an easy question,” he said. “Who was Ozymandias and is he a prince, a duke, or a viscount of Hell?”

  I wracked my reluctant brain. “He was Ramses II, Ruler of Egypt and on death, he descended to Hell and he’s a duke. “

  His breath was hot against my ear again and I shivered with anticipation.

  A low sound started in his chest, almost like a purr, and it vibrated through my entire body. Centering between my thighs, touching me in a place no one had ever touched but me.

  “How are you doing this?” I gasped.

  “Told you, we study pleasure. I wasn’t kidding.” Somehow, the sensation continued, even while he spoke.

  My fingers tightened on my restraints, fighting back a moan. Until suddenly, the feeling stopped, leaving me cold and aching.

  “Can’t give you too much too soon.” He chuckled. “Next question. Who serves by Ozymandias’ side?”

  “Uh…” I tried to think, came up with nothing. “I don’t know.”

  The ropes he’d bound me with began to grow cold.

  “You’re not trying,” he whispered, his fingers ghosting over my collarbone.

  I scoured my brain, desperate to feel that heat again. “Nefertari!”

  The rope heated and he growled, his fingers entwined with mine, and he played my body like a needy instrument.

  I guessed we’d finally found a way to corral my wayward brain.

  Pleasure.

  Oh God, this was the best studying I’d ever experienced.

  “See, baby. You can trust me.”

  No, I definitely couldn’t. Not when he could wield this kind of power over me. I understood how fucking dangerous this was now—how dangerous he was. I’d trot straight into Hell with a blissed-out smile on my face.

  “That’s all about Ozy that will be on our test. Let’s see.” He hummed. “What’s next? The Seven Dukes. Do you remember who they are?”

  I didn’t, but I was going to learn.

  We spent the rest of homeroom in that dark place and by the time the bell rang, I was physically wrung out, mentally exhausted and still perched on the edge of finding that culmination the vibrations promised.

  I also knew a hell of a lot more about demons.

  When Nash untied me, I clung to him, desperate and wanting. The words were on the tip of my tongue to tell him I wanted him to be the one. To do it. To take my virginity now.

  The only thing that stopped me was a soul-deep refusal to allow my first time to be any kind of boon to St. Damon’s. I knew virginity was a construct of the patriarchy, but demons seemed pretty caught up in that nonsense.

  “If I was going to take advantage of you, now would be the time,” Nash said.

  “Pointing out that you didn’t,” I managed in a breathy voice, “kind of defeats the purpose.”

  “I want your trust. Your loyalty.”

  “Then earn it.”

  “I am.” He pulled me to him, his body so hot and hard.

  I ached everywhere and wrapped my arms around him to get even closer.

  As he kissed me, it made me wonder about the things I could do with my music. I wondered if I could do to him what he’d done to me.

  That thought was a splash of cold water.

  I hadn’t thought about giving him the same pleasure he’d given me, not when he’d been doing it. But doing onto him as he’d done to me… That was demonic thinking, wasn’t it? Or was it just me, thinking like an actual girlfriend?

  He broke away. “Thanks for the study sesh. Pretty sure I’m going to ace my test.”

  I laughed. “And I have a chance to pass mine.”

  “Pass? You’re going to ace it.” He nipped my ear. “And smart girls who do well on their tests get a study session that’s all reward.”

  While I liked that idea, I had to ask, “What happens if I fail?”

  “Neither one of us wants that answer. Don’t fail.”

  The bell rang and I had to haul ass to make it to Creative Finance and Discrete Math. I didn’t need a tardy, that was for sure.

  The rest of the day passed in a weird haze. I kept thinking about going back to the make out hallway and “studying” with Nash—a way more pleasant pastime than imagining what awaited me in Cultural Arts, or desperately trying to construct a plan for speaking with Sunglasses.

  How the fuck was I supposed to plead my case to him? I didn’t want to be in the same room with him, let alone ask him for anything.

  Finding myself gripping my pencil hard enough to crack the wood, I forced myself to take a breath. It’s going to be okay. Nabila and Oscar are counting on you. Besides, Cat hadn’t steered me wrong yet.

  I just hoped this meeting wouldn’t prove to be the exception to that rule.

  Should just get it over with and turn up early for class, or wait until after? I couldn’t decide. When I got to Bournival’s classroom, I was ready to jump out of my skin. Every shadow in the music room felt poised to strike. And in the middle of it all, propped casually against his desk, was my teacher.

  Bournival. As creepy and carefree as ever.

  Beside him sat a projector,
already humming. A light square burst into life against the stage drapes as I entered, and I flinched. I remembered back in regular school, whenever the projector screen was down and it looked like class time would be spent on a film, it was always an event anticipated with much joy.

  In demon school, who knew what we’d be in for.

  “Today, we’ll be watching Amadeus,” Bournival said, mouth tilting up in a self-satisfied smile. “It’s the perfect treatise on the ease of sowing jealousy within the arts.”

  My hand shot up before I could think better of it.

  “Yes, Ms. Alcantara?”

  “May I speak with you after class?”

  “We are speaking now.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I have an assignment I’d like more guidance on.”

  “We can speak now. The rest of the class, take note of the opening scenes.” Bournival clicked the movie into life. Then he motioned to the side door, and I knew he meant for me to go into his office the next room over. I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin and swallowed my fear, stuffing it as far down as it would go.

  I hummed a Dropkick Murpheys’ song as I walked out of the room to meet the demon on his own turf.

  The words tingled in the back of my head and with each note I hummed, I felt stronger. More sure of myself. He’d stayed behind in the classroom, giving pointers on what to look or something. He probably thought the wait would leave me worried and trembling—but all it did was give my music time to settle my nerves.

  He emerged shortly from the classroom, reptilian smile and dark glasses ever in place.

  His trench coat billowed out behind him like the wings of death.

  “Oh stop it,” I said.

  A brow arched above those damn sunglasses. “Stop what, petite?”

  “The fake wind with the trench coat thing. I’m over it.” My voice sounded much more confident than I actually felt.

  His mouth made a moue. “But I’m not. It’s one of my favorite things about being a demon. I do so enjoy making an entrance.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. “Plus, I’m not even trying. Would you like to see try?”

  Fuck no. But that was probably not the answer that would get me what I wanted.

  I dug deep, looking for strength. “I don’t think you agreed to speak with me to put on a light show. I mean, if you did, great, but I need snacks.”

  He threw back his head and laughed.

  It was one of the single most awful sounds I’d ever heard. It was like nails on a chalkboard and shattering glass all mashed up together and somehow having fun. His glee was a truly terrible thing.

  “Oh petite, you not only learn quickly, you adapt as well. How delightful.” He casually smoothed the line of his coat. “What is it you want from me?”

  For a moment, I couldn’t speak.

  The words all got stuck in my throat like a half-chewed piece of cafeteria chicken.

  “Oui, no?” He shook his head. “Ah, perhaps your trusty crew dared you to play a game of Ding-Dong-Ditch? To come ring my doorbell, and run away?”

  I didn’t want to think about what ringing his doorbell would entail in any shape, form, or dimension.

  “Y-you offered me help in Portland,” I managed.

  He studied me. “I did. What of it?”

  He was going to make me ask. Of course he was, what else had I expected?

  “I’d like to take you up on that offer now, if you’re not still mad I ditched you at Union Station.” I fought so hard for the smile I forced onto my face.

  “I’m afraid that I cannot do. LA is tres impossible now that you’re at St. Damon’s.”

  “No, not LA. Something else. I might have told my Keeper that you gave me permission to start a band after school.” I shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. As if I didn’t care about the punishment, should he refuse to help me.

  He laughed again and it rattled my insides. Like, literally.

  If he cackled like that again, I might pee my pants. That’s all I needed was to have to trudge home from school having pissed myself, and, on top of that, to have to face Bulldog’s wrath.

  “Hmm. You know I will require something in return, should I allow your little… trespass?”

  I crossed my arms tight across my chest. Here it came. “Which would be?”

  His smile widened farther. It was vulpine. “Yes, get all the details before you agree. You’ve already learned so much from your classes.”

  He stared at me for a long moment. So long, it made me itch.

  “Spit it out already,” I finally demanded.

  His lips twitched, as if claiming some victory over my lack of patience. “I require your participation in class.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  Actually playing in music class didn’t sound too terrible—not participating had been slowly eating me alive—but at a demon school, who knew what it really meant? “Okay…I’ll play in class, as long as it doesn’t violate my personal code of ethics.”

  He shrugged. “As you wish.”

  Okay. He’d given in way too easily. Something else awful had to be hanging over my head.

  “And?” I prompted. “What else?”

  “And,” he said, leaning forward ever so slightly, “your little band will play at the end of term ball we’re having in honor of the Principal’s return.”

  “That’s like… three weeks away. We can’t be ready to play by then. Especially since we have finals.”

  “Oh, petite. You and I both know that you don’t need to practice.”

  I thought about what had happened with Nabila. It had been amazing and powerful and seemed to simply manifest around us. Could I do that again intentionally? While we both played instruments and faced the boss demon in a ballroom?

  Who was I kidding? All bands had to practice—and practice a lot.

  “I do, I really do need practice.” I nodded at him.

  He twirled a finger in the air, as if idly deciding to trigger a shower of lightning in his office. “You have between now and the ball. It’s the best I can do. I have my superiors to answer to as well, ma petite.”

  “We can’t practice at The Milton—”

  “Has your Keeper tried to stop you?” That dark eyebrow crawled above his glasses again, an unspoken threat in his voice.

  “No… Well, not me,” I said. Here went nothing—if I pulled this off, my friends owed me so many answers. “But I need Nabila and Oscar for the band. Myrtle doesn’t want us spending time together outside of school, and she said if I keep trying to practice my friends will suffer for it.”

  “Petty things, Keepers.” Bournival shrugged again, a limber roll of his body, like a python shedding the last of an old skin. “I imagine I’d have an ax to grind if you made my ears bleed.” Teeth flashed. “I suppose I could intervene. At least, until the night of the ball. That will give you little demonlings three solid weeks to raise whatever hell you’re playing with. Then it’s back to the grindstone. No more rebellion.”

  There was a part of me that knew this was a good offer and I should take it. Another part of me wanted to push.

  It was my turn to get something for all of the hell they’d put me through.

  “I can’t promise that.”

  He held out his hands. “Then my hands are tied.”

  “Only because you choose to tie them. How about we call it an act of good faith.”

  He shuddered. “Language, petite. Language.” Sunglasses shot his tongue out between his lips like a lizard. He wrinkled his nose. “Whyever would I do this?”

  “Because you tried to control me in Portland. That’s pretty fucking rude, don’t you think? That’s no way to be my friend. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be my friend? I have something you want and you need me to give it to you. It’s not something you can take.”

  “You’re wading into the deep waters here. Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

  “I didn’t say I’d give it to you
if you were nice me. I just said that I know you want me to think of you… not like the others,” I finished lamely.

  He was right. I was way out of my depth. The water was deep and I didn’t really know how to swim.

  “Alright. I will give you your lie and intervene with the Keeper. Until the ball.”

  He held out his hand and I knew he expected me to shake it. That I had to shake it to seal our bargain.

  Reaching out, fighting revulsion, I took his hand.

  I don’t know what I’d imagined—slime, scales, clammy touch of a creature long dead—yet his flesh felt surprisingly normal. His hand was warm and strong, and a bizarre sense of safety emanated from him.

  Which was totally awful and gross, because I knew it was a lie.

  Just like the flesh of his hand.

  If I looked too closely, I’d be able to see underneath. I didn’t want to. In this instance, I wanted the lie.

  I’d need it if I was going to survive this.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Strumming my fingers across the strings, I held the note, waiting until the final threads vibrated across the room. I’d played the women power anthem slower than had been intended, but with no less power. Each line lifted my spirits, cemented my determination and a strange new sense of hope. As the final note faded from my lips, I drew in a shaky, triumphant breath.

  I’d done it.

  Gotten a job, faced Sunglasses and secured permission. And I’d just nailed my first practice session on Ground Zero’s stage.

  Things were looking up. Maybe I’d survive this hell after all.

  “Great set, kid,” Cat called.

  “I know.” I grinned at her and sketched a bow.

  Cat gave a short round of applause from her position behind the bar, she had a towel tossed over her shoulder and was polishing a set of square glasses. Or had been. It looked like she’d reached the last one.

  “Don’t worry,” I said, “I know it’s time to head out.”

  “Thanks, Ash.” She flashed an approving thumbs up.

  “See you tomorrow!” With my guitar secured and my backpack strung over one shoulder, I practically bounced out of the Ground Zero.

  I couldn’t wait to tell my friends I’d secured official permission for our band and Bournival would intervene with Myrtle. It had been so hard not to rush back to The Milton and tell them, but to pull this off, I needed to keep my schedule. No way I’d make it easy for Myrtle to turn things against me once again.