by A. K. Koonce
“Kayos is a nephilim startle Prod.” Syko’s voice is quiet, timid sounding. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him be so serious about anything since the moment I met him.
“A startle Prod, what’s that? And how old is she? She has to be the youngest person I’ve seen here. Is it even legal for a little girl to be thrown in this prison palace?”
A sad sort of smile pulls at his lips and I have to admit he’s handsome in that tragic way.
“She’s fourteen. The President of Prodigiums doesn’t give a fuck what our age is. Kayos is dangerous. That’s why she’s here. If she doesn’t get her creature under control, they’ll control it for her. And startle Prods, they don’t stand a fucking chance. Any sudden sound, any threatening setting, any… any little thing will set her off. And the people in her path, they’re as good as dead.”
The way the muscles in his arms bulge when he folds them across his chest and plasters a picture perfect smile on his face tells me she’s back. She slides into her chair, ripping open little packets of sugar and shaking them out onto her food without thought of what the fuck that sugary hot dog concoction must taste like.
But I can’t seem to even glance down at her tray though. All I can think about is how the supernatural government sent this sweet little girl into the one place that’s like a ticking time bomb for her. Syko’s right, she doesn’t stand a chance.
I can’t imagine how it must feel to sit back and watch your own flesh and blood and know that they’re going to fail.
A strangling feeling consumes my chest and I just sit there numbly while she eats, her gaze flickering from time to time when a fork clatters to the ground or a tray rattles the metal tables.
With each sudden sound, I can’t help but wonder if this is the last thing I’ll hear sitting across from the innocent little girl.
But nothing ever happens. Syko does an endless job of making sure she’s distracted, focused on his charming words and larger-than-life laughter.
He’s... sweet.
I think.
Chairs knock to the ground, several of them banging into each other just before an entire table flips and a man with burning palms collides his blazing fist into another demon’s face. The two plummet to the ground, knocking more chairs, trays and people to the floor in their tumbling violence.
“Let’s go, Kayos.” Syko’s spine is stiff, shoulders broad and ready. He’s a living, breathing defense mechanism in this moment.
Kayos’s lips tremble, her teeth sinking in hard to stop the quivering of her jaw, but even as blood trickles from her mouth, she still shakes uncontrollably.
“Now, Kayos,” Syko grabs her hand and without another word, his wings splay wide and in the next instant he’s soaring her over the deadly crowd at a controlled, casual pace.
The door bangs open in his wake and the sunlight casts across his bloody wings like an angel set out for vengeance.
And I know, that’s exactly what he’ll be if anything ever happens to that little girl.
Six
Izara
The afternoon classes fly by and I stumble along with it with so much dread in my stomach I think I might be sick.
Because the last thing on my fabulous agenda is the one thing adults shouldn’t have to put up with.
I just shouldn’t. I did my time. I ran my miles.
I should not. Have to do. Fucking Gym.
The sunlight prickles my eyes as I glare up at the nicest building this whole damn campus has to offer. Figures they’d throw the budget on something as torturous as this.
Academy of Six Prodigium Gymnasium
The big white letters read.
My lungs premeditatively burn just reading it.
I still have the disgusted look curling my lips when footsteps and hushed whispers crawl up the winding sidewalk to where I stand.
All that hatred flashes away in the next instant.
Pain rivets up my spine when I feel the blow from behind. I have no time to react other than to take in quick, agonizing gasps. My feet almost give out under me, but I’m hauled up by the back of my blazer, whirled, and slammed face first into a wall.
Tears burn behind my eyelids and I force them away with rapid blinks. A meaty hand grips my long hair, pressing my cheek tightly against the rough brick. I can feel the stone abrading my skin but the pain is nothing compared to the rage rising inside.
It rises all at once, uncontrollable, a familiar rage that startles me at first.
A body presses against my back and rancid breath burns the hair on my eyebrows as that disgusting mouth gets closer to me, his lips brushing my skin.
“Looks like the academy let in another feck,” the deep voice murmurs, causing shivers of unease to race over my arms.
“Get your filthy paws off me, asshole!”
My words might as well have bounced off stone, for all the attention he pays them.
But the way energy is ripping through my chest tells me something bad is coming.
Something from inside me.
Fingers dig into the roots of my hair as he tips my neck unnaturally back. I feel the pain down to my scalp, to my skull. The tears come then from the pain, the rage, a mixture of too many uncontrollable emotions.
“Why do they let scum like you in?” the voice at my ear demands. I can hear the snickers and lewd sneers from whatever companions are at his sides. I can’t see them but I know automatically that if my Prod wasn’t so deeply buried inside me, I’d slaughter them all.
And the headmaster thought I had no control over the lurking beast.
He’s wrong.
I refuse to be responsible for another massacre like Adam’s.
With a slow breath, I calm the shaking, deadly sensation within and it quiets in an instant like a soft purring cat nuzzling before falling to sleep.
Good. That’s good.
Another hand wraps slowly around the skin of my neck, nails cutting into my throat. The touch isn’t lewd, but it holds the promise of violence and death. I feel the first scrape of claws against my flesh and then fingers are wrapping around me, choking me.
I struggle, but he’s too strong. A feeling of reckless, helplessness churns within me against this onslaught. My vision blurs black and white. I frantically buck against my assailant, searching deep inside myself for the power of my Prod that I shrugged off too soon.
It’s empty, I’m empty.
And I am going to die here.
I can feel myself falling into unconsciousness. I start to lose myself to the darkness inside. It’s all consuming, rising in a powerful threat that wants nothing more than to explode, wreak havoc. I feel it balancing on the delicate edge of my mind, my soul—
And then the feeling is ripped from me as that lashing hand slips away from me and I’m left gasping for breath. Burning heaps of air hit my lungs all at once. My body slumps into the wall and the weakness in my knees has me sliding painfully to the ground.
My attackers, big surprise, are werewolves.
These beasts seem more on edge than the others. Maybe it’s a shifter thing. Maybe it’s because part of them isn’t theirs at all but a monster waiting its turn.
Or maybe, maybe they’re just total assholes.
Their claws extend in vicious curves. Fucker, ever heard of clippers? Weak hysterical laughter wants to bubble out of my throat as the thought flicks unbidden through my mind.
My fingers tremble at my sides and no matter how hard I try, I can’t push the unshed tears from my blurry vision.
But I see it clearly when Wolfie goes down on a thudding slam at my side. Big fists strike, lashing into his cruel face without hesitation. Blood splatters across my cheek and lip and when a boot slams into the wolf’s side with a strike of finality, I look up to that blinding white sunlight once more.
To find a soulless demon as my savior.
Nubbie.
Oh, I should not call him that.
Maybe later.
But not now.
> His palm wipes over his khakis and a deep crimson color stains the material there. He looks annoyed at the whole ordeal. Usually men enjoy playing the hero. He just looks like he’d rather be elsewhere.
His booted foot slams down onto the wolf's throat, causing him to gurgle, to struggle. His feeble attempts are so pathetic, I feel the need to laugh into his cruel face.
But then my savior bends low, so he’s crouching over my attacker’s body. It happens for a split second, a terrifying moment when those bright green eyes of his go dark, the color swallowed by the black of his pupils. The veins around his eyes swell and darken, as if the blood in his body rushes as black as the pits of hell. His face is spider-webbed in slashing lines that make him look all the more dangerous, deadly.
“I’m an incubus,” he mutters with an emotionless voice. “And even I wouldn’t put my cock in you.” His heel digs into the man’s throat. “Though I do have friends in hell who would revel in taking turns to make the werewolf bleed.”
The wolf makes a pathetic whimpering noise.
“Consider this your warning to fuck off.” He removes his heel and straightens, fully composed once again.
Beautiful, frightening emerald eyes flicker from the wolf at his feet to myself also lying in a mess of a pile near his shoes.
“I’m fine,” I croak out in an unintelligible sound of words.
I have the urge to stand.
But I can’t move.
“Christ,” he sighs, shaking his head with annoyance before slipping his hands beneath me. His chest is rigid when my head falls against it. Strong arms and impossible strength surrounds me, warmth and the smell of smoke wraps all around my tired limbs like a protective blanket and I won’t lie.
I don’t completely hate it.
Until he speaks.
“Listen, Feck, if you’re going to be letting these fuckers beat the shit out of you day in and day out, don’t do it at the gym. I like the gym. Try to keep it clean there.”
Oh, my god he’s obnoxious.
Rude.
Condescending.
And completely serious.
“I didn’t let anyone do anything to me. I’m fine.”
He starts walking in steady strides as if I weigh nothing at all. “Yeah, I could see that.” He takes the front steps of our dorm two at a time, jostling me so much I grip his neck harder just to stay safely in his arms.
Smooth muscle tone flexes beneath my fingertips and my fluttering heart notices immediately while my mind pretends she’s not impressed.
She’s not.
It takes more than an incredibly perfect body to distract me.
Shit, what was he saying?
“Just try to avoid confrontation and you’ll make it out just fine.”
“This entire place is confrontation.” My head bangs into his thick neck as he dodges and weaves around two girls ripping each other’s hair out in the middle of the dark hall.
Case and point.
Exhibit A.
I rest my case.
Meeting adjourned.
And so on.
“Then I don’t know. Find someone to intimidate your intimidators. Otherwise you’re as good as gone.”
“Like you?” I fire the question back with a glare and pursed lips but then it suddenly sounds like the best idea, really.
Nubbie is massive. Probably because of that gym obsession he has but I’m not really complaining now.
Good for him for bulking up to an impossible size to be my intimidator.
“Yeah, no, not me.” His deep mossy eyes pass a disgusted look over me like he couldn’t care less what happens to this little feck. And yet, he pulls me closer as he steps carefully over a sleeping black panther curled up just outside our room.
Shifters—shifters everywhere in this place.
I can break him. I can hire him as my intimidator.
I just need a bit more time, here in his arms, where he has to look at my pathetic fucking face and somehow keep saying no.
I will break him.
“Wait.” My palm settles on his chest and every part of his body tenses from the way my fingertips arch there over his soundless heart.
He really is attractive in a captivating way. All of these people have this alluring ability to make me want to dive right into the violence they’re hiding just beneath the surface.
This guy is no different. He’s just more blunt about what lurks on the inside. His jagged exterior and tattered interior all match.
And yet, I’m still stroking my hand down his chiseled chest. His body is sculpted to the point of distraction.
The low state of his brows shadow his wide eyes when he looks to me with, dare I say, some concern there in the depths of his gaze.
“How bad does my neck look? My dad—my adoptive dad is supposed to come see me as soon as they allow visitors.” My chin tips up and I angle my neck closer to him.
Warm breath trails a heated path along my skin while he hesitantly looks from my eyes to my neck and then back again as if he senses a trap.
He’s smart.
Finally, a low rasp comes out from his throat in such a sensual sound that my thighs shift in his arms, his fingers tightening over the bare underside of my legs. “It’s pretty sliced up,” he whispers. He swallows slowly, attention lingering there on my wounds. “You’re weak, Feck. He could have really hurt you.” I hear the word feck but it’s drowned out by the way his tone is filled with thick concern.
“Then help me,” I say on the softest voice I’m capable of. “Please.”
“How?” Annoyance stings through him and we’re right back to square one again.
Footsteps sound at our side and Saint pushes the door open, appearing as if from nowhere. “Easy, pretend to be her boyfriend.” Had he been listening at the door? The fuck... “She’ll be safe even when you’re not around. Safe by association. No one’s gonna mess with something that’s yours.”
Something that’s yours.
... I belong to this asshole now? That was not the plan.
“Yeah, she doesn’t even know my name so I doubt this lovely couple plan will really work. She hates me.” He tells his friend as if I’m not even in the room with them.
“And yet you’re holding her the way a groom would his bride.” The vampire cocks a dark brow.
Nubbie’s arms give out so fast I nearly drop right to the ground. My nails dig into the back of his neck for support and the groan that shakes through his chest is a sound that wakes up my sex drive so fast I have to beat it back down with a broom before I can focus on a single thing either of them are still saying.
“Just date her,” Saint says carelessly with a shrug, pushing the subject so hard it feels suspicious.
“I’m not dating her,” Nubbie growls with so much disgust I have to remind myself I’m still clinging to him like old toilet paper stuck to his boot.
My hands unlock and I shove off of him with a bit too much force. No one even looks my way when I nearly plant my face onto the floor.
“Then pretend date her,” Saint presses.
“No.”
“Yes.” The vampire’s amusement grows with every push and pull of their argument.
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you harder.” Saint’s smile shines in his bright blue eyes even as his friend is giving him a death glare that his kind must practice religiously with the devil before coming to earth. “You won’t date her because you don’t know how to do anything with a woman that doesn’t involve your cock.”
For several seconds the demon just clenches his jaw, aggression rolling off of him in slashing energy that I can physically feel pulsing through the room.
“Fine,” he snaps out on a cold, cutting tone. Glaring green eyes span to me and it takes me a second to realize he just agreed.
“Oh, I’m sorry, were you asking me out just then? I’ll have to check my calendar, August is kind of a busy month for me.” I nod to him and every little shake of my head see
ms to piss him off even more. “What’s your name, Nubbie?” My lips quirk, but I force them not to lift into the taunting smile that’s demanding to be let out.
A spasm shakes through his jawline, his head tilting back with a tired look while he glares down on me.
“Phoenix.”
Phoenix. That’s prettier than I would have expected from a Prod who apparently has no soul.
My hand lifts and he glares down at that little offer held between us. Calloused fingers slide against mine, his big palm settling there for a lingering moment while I shake his hand slowly.
“Nice to meet you, boyfriend.”
He blinks an annoyed look of anger at me.
His warmth slips away from me and he stalks out of the room without another word, the door banging shut behind him. I stand there for a moment longer and consider the deal I just made.
I’m dating the campus asshole and he’s repulsed by every little thing I do. I can calm him. I know I can. This set up could be good for us both.
If we don’t kill each other first.
This boyfriend/girlfriend thing isn’t as great as everyone makes it out to be.
Seven
Malek
“What do you mean you’re dating her?”
It’s rare a smirk that tilts the nasty demon’s lips.
“I mean she asked, and I said yes,” he replies carelessly, pulling himself up to the bar, his massive body flexing with the pull of his muscles as he lowers himself slowly before bringing his chin right back up above the metal bar.
“You’re only speaking to me right now to piss me off. And I don’t believe you for a second.”
“Why? Did you think you’d fuck the pretty feck first?”
Feck. I hate his kind and the way they use that offensive term. He thinks he’s so much more powerful, more worthy because he’s hellbred.
He’s an abomination. Nothing special in a place like this.
“She’s not a feck. Don’t call her that.”
“She’s shown zero powers. She’s a feck. Until proven otherwise.” He drops, his shoes hitting the soft mat before a pile of brick and fire land at his feet. He doesn’t look up at the damage the man at his side is doing.
