by Katie May
“Oh. Em. Gee!”
Mariabella races across the hall and practically tackles me with her hug.
“Mar…” I say with a laugh as she pulls away, an undefinable gleam in her eyes.
“You look sexy as fuck!” she breathes, dropping her gaze to my legs. She instantly blushes and meets my eyes. “Sorry. That was blunt. But damn, cheerleading looks good on you.”
“You too,” I respond, and I mean it. Mariabella looks completely in her element in the skin-tight uniform, one that showcases her luscious curves. Karsyn really is a lucky man. It’s a shame I have to destroy him and then eat his insides.
She giggles slightly, another blush erupting in her cheeks, before she turns towards Emmett with an enigmatic grin.
“So…”
“So?” Emmett raises an eyebrow as he stares down at her fondly.
“What are your chances of winning tonight?”
“With Alder as QB, I’ll say pretty damn good. It’s really going to be a defensive game, since both of our offenses are evenly matched and—”
His words go through one ear and out the other.
Football stats? Not my thing.
Mariabella, on the other hand, nods endearingly as he prattles on and on about how close the game is going to be, especially if they don’t work as a coherent unit. She interjects once or twice to ask for clarification, but overall, she’s attentive and genuinely interested.
Once again, a pang explodes in my chest when I think about how perfect she is for Karsyn. Sweet. Funny. Beautiful.
It’s no wonder he loves her.
And it’s no wonder he never bothers to give me the time of day, unless it’s to remind me that I don’t belong.
I scratch absently at the skin on my arm, ignoring the pain that detonates inside of me like an atomic bomb. Now is not the time to fall in an endless pit of despair and misery. I refuse to allow my past depression to drag me under, stealing the remaining air from my lungs. Not again.
Movement out of the corner of my eye clues me in to the new arrival a moment before his hands are on my ass, wrenching my skirt up and bearing my black panties to the entire hallway.
I gasp as mortification fills me, tears pricking my eyes. Immediately, I jump away from the asshole and smooth down my skirt.
“Sorry,” the guy says unapologetically. “My hands slipped.”
From the hoots and hollers of his friends a few lockers away, I have a feeling that was not the case. At all.
I recognize him vaguely as Simon…something. I can’t recall his last name. He’s been in all of my classes since fourth grade, and he reveled in the Devils’ treatment of me. I think he secretly wanted to join them, so he always laughed the loudest at their crude jokes. Watched as they tortured and tormented me. Smirked when I sobbed.
And apparently, he’s one of the few students who remembers me, even with my stylish haircut and toned body.
“What the fuck, asshole?” Emmett seethes, stepping forward with his teeth bared and hands balled into fists. Mariabella places a hand on his chest to stop him, though her eyes are colder than I’ve ever seen before. They’re practically hewn from ice.
“I’m going to report you,” she hisses, and the venom in her voice takes me by surprise. She’s usually so sweet and calm, so the change from an innocent angel to an avenging demon sort of terrifies me. Her eyes narrow into thin, unforgiving slits as if daring Simon to try something else.
“It was just a joke.” He holds his hands up placatingly as he begins to slowly step away, rejoining his group of assholes. They’re not wearing the red and black football jerseys, so that means they’re not on the football team. I don’t recognize them from any of my classes either. But then again, the school is so big that I don’t have classes with half of my grade.
“Fuck you!” Emmett bellows, garnering the attention of a few classmates lingering nearby. I receive a few pitying looks from students who no doubt saw my underwear, but no one outwardly laughs or even leers. Even the guys nearby look disgusted at Simon’s behavior.
“Let’s just go,” I tell Emmett and Mariabella firmly, taking both of their hands in mine and tugging them towards our first hour. “He’s not worth it.”
“I’m going to rip his fucking head off,” Emmett continues, struggling against me. I can tell he doesn’t actually want to get away—if he truly wanted to break free of my weak grip, he could in a heartbeat.
“That’s sexual assault,” Mariabella adds with a frown. “He should be expelled.”
“It’s fine.”
I dealt with worse.
But maybe Simon should find himself at the end of one of my voodoo dolls?
I smile coldly at the thought as I quicken my pace. But that smile fades when I spot the figure standing ramrod straight at the end of the hall, expression utterly unreadable. He’s close enough to have no doubt witnessed the entire incident, but instead of the glee I expect from the devil himself, I see nothing but carefully constructed impassiveness.
Except for his eyes.
Lucas meets my gaze once, eyes stony and almost incandescent in fury, before he turns and walks away.
Chapter 18
We arrive at our first hour without any additional issues. I don’t know if it’s because word hasn’t yet traveled this far, or if Emmett’s “don’t fuck with me” look deters anyone from saying anything. Either way, I’m grateful when I slide into my seat nestled between Mariabella and Emmett without anyone commenting on what I dub the “panty incident.”
“I can’t fucking believe that prick,” Mariabella seethes, and the vitriol in her voice has me spinning towards her. And to hear her cursing? That’s a feat in and of itself. I haven’t known her very long, but I can’t think of one time I ever heard her raise her voice in anger before our confrontation with Simon. Sadness, maybe, like when she spoke to Karsyn before cheerleading practice. But never anger. Never this toe-curling, stomach-clenching anger that makes me fear being on the receiving end of her wrath.
And Emmett…
He hasn’t stopped glowering since the incident. His hands are balled into tight fits, and he’s radiating a decidedly “steer clear of me or die” vibe. More than one person glances at the normally jovial football player before darting their eyes in another direction. He’s fucking livid on my behalf, and it only endears him to me more. I can’t remember the last time I had someone in my corner, someone angry on my behalf. Maybe Uriel, but that’s about it.
Ms. Auperlee is pulling up a PowerPoint when the door to the classroom slams open, careening off the wall. Every student whips their head in the newcomer’s direction, mouths agape in shock.
Standing in the door frame like an avenging angel—one that’s been plucked from hell and not heaven—is none other than Lucas. He absently brushes at the top of his red hair, smoothing down the wayward flyaways until it returns to its immaculate style. Then, his sea-blue eyes roam over the students before settling on me.
Like in the hallway, his face is devoid of any expression whatsoever. But his eyes…
Back at the coven, we were forced to hang our laundry on a string connecting our home and the next. I would sometimes watch from my bedroom window the articles of clothing blowing in the light breeze, weightless and ravaged by the elements. One look into Lucas’s eyes feels as if he is plucking me off that thin rope and holding me tight, protecting me from flying away and drifting aimlessly. I no longer feel as if a sharp gust of wind is going to completely obliterate me. I no longer think—
What the fuck am I doing?
Thinking poetic thoughts about Lucas fucking Scott, of all people? He’s the most dangerous Devil of them all, one that exudes pure malice. He looks like an angel with his studious good looks, but it only belies something infinitely darker and more dangerous.
And now, the metaphor has changed. He’s the tornado hurtling towards me at one hundred miles per hour, destroying the entire laundry line…as well as every house nearby. He’s destruction and
pain and misery, all wrapped in an enticing package complete with a pretty bow.
“Lucas? I thought I didn’t have you until later today,” Ms. Auperlee states, sounding flustered. There’s just something about this ice-eyed boy that does that to a person.
“I transferred in,” he states blandly. Without taking his eyes off of me, he removes a pink slip of paper from his pocket and hands it to the frazzled teacher. She scans over what I recognize as an administrative note, before nodding once at the empty seat opposite me in the classroom.
“Please have a seat, Mr. Scott.”
But he ignores the direction she indicated. Instead, he heads straight towards me.
The guy sitting directly in front of me looks as if he’s going to piss himself when Lucas hovers over his desk. He doesn’t frown or even scowl. He doesn’t lift a finger at the boy, nor does he raise his voice. Instead, he just stands there, a bored, almost apathetic, expression on his too-beautiful face.
And the guy all but jumps out of the seat, running towards the empty desk on the opposite end of the room.
Motherfucker.
Lucas’s back remains ramrod straight as he slides easily into the now vacated seat. Unlike the other students, he doesn’t slouch or take out his phone or even lean forward on his forearms. He sits like he does everything in life—with a giant stick up his muscled ass.
“As most of you already know, we have a project coming up that will last the remainder of the semester.” She moves to sit behind her desk, rifling through notebooks and loose paper. “At the end of the semester, we have an anatomy unit. Your assignment is to build a creative human skeleton using everyday items you have lying around your house. It can be paper clips or remote controls or even shoes. But it must be anatomically correct, and it must be at least five feet long.” After she finishes her spiel, she stands, once more moving to pace at the front of the room. “Now, most teachers would assign partners—”
There’s immediate grumbling from some of the classmates, while others exchange wistful looks. The corners of Ms. Auperlee’s lips twitch, and I decide that she might be one of my favorite teachers.
“—but I’m not like most teachers. I’m allowing you to choose your own partner. But!” She raises her voice to be heard over the sudden onslaught of noise. “Make sure it’s someone you’ll actually get stuff done with.” At that, she swivels her head until she’s narrowing her eyes at two unfamiliar football players sitting near the back of the classroom. They chuckle at her good-naturedly and shrug their broad shoulders sheepishly.
A few things happen at the exact same time.
Lucas begins to turn around in seat, still sitting like a fucking king overlooking us lowly peasants. All he needs is a crown in his meticulously-groomed hair. Emmett begins to turn towards me as well, a mischievous smile replacing the anger I’d seen in his eyes when class began. And Mariabella grips both of my hands with a delighted squeal.
“We totes have to be partners!” she gushes, rubbing her thumbs across the tops of my hands.
And Mariabella? She’s the safest option by far.
If I choose Emmett, I might forget about all of my carefully constructed plans and my vow for “no romantic entanglements.” Something about the cheeky boy reels me in, hook, line, and sinker.
And if I choose Lucas…
I’ll lose myself to the darkness pulsating just beneath my ribcage.
“Of course,” I say immediately, ignoring the probing eyes I can feel drilling a hole in the side of my face. Those cold, cold eyes…
“I guess that leaves you and me, fucker,” Emmett grumbles, but Lucas ignores him completely, turning back towards his notebook and scribbling in the margins. His red sweater is pulled tight over hard, sinewy muscles. How is it possible that someone so…nerdy could have such delectable muscles? It’s not fair.
“Or just me,” Emmett relents at last with a disgruntled sigh.
Mariabella giggles and sticks her tongue out at him. “You snooze, you lose.”
“Obviously.” He rolls his eyes as his dimple makes another appearance. “If you fall asleep after sex, you’re always losing.”
“You’re disgusting,” I say with a grin as I flick an eraser at his head.
Instead of answering with words, he simply wags his tongue like a dog and shakes his head from side to side enthusiastically.
Disgusting, yes.
But also very tempting.
We don’t talk more about the project for the rest of the class period. Instead, Ms. Auperlee continues her PowerPoint presentation while I pretend that I’m not staring intently at Lucas’s broad shoulders and his perfectly sculpted back. That I’m not noticing the one hair slightly out of place near the back of his scalp. That I’m not paying attention to the way his long, elegant fingers wrap around the pencil as he writes perfect notes into his notebook.
“Who are you writing to?” I asked softly as I moved to sit next to the red-haired boy. The rest of the kids were playing on the playset, running through the field, or shoving each other off the swings. But not Lucas. Never Lucas. He always spent his recess by himself.
He smiled up at me, revealing a gap between his two front teeth, and I felt my heart flutter.
“You,” he answered simply, thrusting a piece of notebook paper into my hands.
Gingerly, I smoothed the paper out on my knee before reading the words he wrote in his small, albeit sloppy, print.
Peony. I thank u pretty. Will u b my girlfrend?
I hugged the letter to my chest as I stared at the shy, skinny boy. A tentative smile curled up my own lips as I resisted the urge to squeal. The other girls in my class were going to be so jealous.
“Do we get to hold hands?” I ask, slightly breathless. Lucas grinned timidly as he reached forward and took my hand in his.
“I’ll be the bestest boyfriend ever,” he vowed. “For now and always.”
When the bell rings, signaling the end of class, I’m out of my seat like a bolt of lightning, practically racing to the door. I can hear Emmett and Mariabella calling my name behind me, but I simply wave my hand in the air and give a muffled, “Bathroom.”
My heart is running a marathon in my chest when I arrive at Orchestra, throwing myself into the uncomfortable black seat before remembering I need to grab a violin from the storage closet.
Why does Lucas affect me the way he does? Am I one of those heroines you read about in books who falls for one of her tormentors? The mere thought is laughable. Been there, done that with Elias. I learned my lesson once before. Never again.
And I hate Lucas more than anything in this world. Maybe even more than I hate the other Devils.
Even I can admit, though, that he’s a fine specimen. When I look at him objectively, like one would when ogling your favorite celebrity on a magazine cover, it’s easy to disassociate the bully from the man. The bully is a horrible human being who deserves to be mauled by apes and then chewed on by rabid bats, if bats can even be rabid. But the man? He’s sexy, in a fifties-vibe, nerdy way. If I was simply a new student starting a new school, he would be the ideal, crush-worthy guy for me. Handsome, class president, smart. And I’m sure he’s charming to some people, when he’s not planning their demise.
But all I can think about when I see his face is those cold blue eyes glaring down at me as I stand in the middle of the gymnasium in my pretty dress.
“You’re nothing,” he’d said.
But now? Now this “nothing” will become his worst nightmare.
“How did you do it?” a sly voice asks from beside me. I turn, startled, to see Felicia standing with her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.
“Do what?”
I honestly don’t understand her animosity towards me. Seriously, did I shit in her Cheerios or something and forget? Or is it simply jealousy that Mr. Tucker showed an interest in me?
“Get Lucas to beat up that guy for you.”
Her words have me freezing in place, and the violin case would�
��ve dropped from my clammy fingers if I hadn’t caught my bearings at the last possible second, retightening my grip.
“I don’t—”
“Don’t lie.” She tosses her silky black hair over her shoulder before stalking away. “I saw him beat up Simon at the beginning of first hour.”
Her words are the equivalent to a literal bomb exploding in my face, the blast sending me spiraling dozens of feet backwards.
Lucas beat up Simon?
Why the fuck would he do that?
Is he some vigilante warrior who beats up every bully who walks these halls? Or is it because of me?
Is Lucas mad that someone else messed with his favorite toy?
Those thoughts continue to circulate in my head as Mr. Tucker ambles into the room, his arms full of sheet music he more than likely illegally printed from the internet.
But all I can think is why?
Why would Lucas do that for me?
Unless…
Unless this is just the start of something bigger and badder. Maybe Lucas has finally seen the chess board I’d laid out in front of him, and he’s only now moving his piece.
I’m not scared. If there’s one thing I learned from playing chess with Uriel, it’s that there’s nothing more important than the queen. And this queen will get the kings to fall for her, one pawn at a time.
Chapter 19
I decide to go to Mariabella’s house to get ready for tonight’s game. She rattles off the address which I plug into my phone, before she skips away with a cheery wave, promising to meet me there.
The poor girl thinks I own a car.
But honestly? I don’t mind the short walk to Mariabella’s house, though I feel guilty that she’s no doubt waiting for me to arrive.
Before I leave, I change into my normal clothes so I’m not forced to walk miles in a short skirt and skin-tight shirt.
Like the last couple of days, Elias keeps pace with me in his Jeep. He doesn’t even question the change in direction, continuing to slowly roll along beside me. I huff, quickening my pace, but that doesn’t deter the relentless fucker as he continues to drive alongside me, classical music blaring from the speakers.
