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Dallas barked a cackle that chased her down the torchlit hallway.
Loren skipped down the staircase and across the foyer, where she pushed through the towering arched doors of the academy. The rusted hinges emitted a deep groan as the doors lurched open.
It was still raining, which came as no surprise for this time of year, considering Januarius was Angelthene’s wettest month. The sprawling academy grounds were drenched, the shaggy palm trees saturated and dripping. The humidity in the air weighed down her lungs and clung to her skin like an invisible coat.
Clutching her books and water bottle to her chest, she hurried down the stone steps, water splashing underfoot, and made her way across the lawn, the lush green grass flooded with rain. No other students were around—except for one.
Loren didn’t know his name, and she hadn’t seen him around campus until yesterday. He was sitting way off in the distance near the Old Hall, on a picnic table beneath the sparse shelter of a palm tree. His light-brown hair and clothes were soaked. He had no books with him, no bag. Nothing.
He was just watching her. He always watched her. Yesterday, she’d tried smiling at him, in case he was suffering from new-kid syndrome and was having no luck at making friends. But he hadn’t smiled back.
Talk about creepy. It was like something she might see in a movie—the weird new kid that watches people from afar and never bothers to smile or speak.
Did he know something he shouldn’t? She felt paranoid for even thinking it, but she couldn’t erase the eerie feeling that overcame her every time she saw him, as if he hadn’t come to the academy to learn, but to watch her. After the threats made against her that day in the limousine, she wouldn’t be surprised if her movements were being monitored. Rules had been set, and the consequences for breaking them had been outlined very clearly.
If someone had been instructed to watch her, they were wasting their time. She had no intention of jeopardizing the safety of her friends and family by stepping out of line, so it was only a matter of time before they got bored and found something better to do.
Hopefully.
With a shudder, Loren looked away from the student and picked up her pace, ascending the hill to the wrought-iron gates.
Darien was parked farther away from the gates than usual, and just as those gates swung open with a squeal, the rain picked up. The joyful chirping of birds enjoying an afternoon shower in the trees was barely audible over the thundering downpour.
Clutching her belongings with one arm, Loren held her other over her head and sprinted for the gleaming black sportscar, her polished shoes splashing in puddles. Water cascaded in small rivers alongside the curb and bled into gurgling storm drains. The sidewalk was sprinkled with palm tree fronds and the same blue jacaranda petals that dusted the roof and hood of Darien’s car.
By the time she reached the passenger’s-side door, her white button-up blouse and skirt were soaked, her hair flattened to her head. But she was still smiling as she swung open the door and launched herself onto the leather seat. Closing the door on the drumming rain, she shivered as the heat floating from the vents caressed her skin with an inviting kiss.
Loren was all too aware that Darien’s full attention was on her as she dumped her books and stainless steel water bottle on the floor, the latter clanging as it tipped over and rolled under the seat. She drew her sopping hair over her shoulder and into her hands, and she began to twist it, wringing the water out onto the floor, as she slowly, slowly raised her eyes to Darien’s face.
The Devil was watching her intently, a hint of a smile on his sculptured mouth, the look in his steel-blue eyes heavy and heated. His dark hair was styled back from his face, the strands damp from either the rain or a shower. His left wrist was slung over the steering wheel, the silver rings he wore on his index and middle fingers shining despite the lack of sunlight. The raindrops sparkling on the sleeve of his black leather jacket and the armrest of his door suggested he’d driven here with his window down.
“You know I always think you’re beautiful, no matter what you’re wearing,” the Devil began, his deep, rich voice sending Loren’s stomach into a dizzying flutter. “But I have to admit, watching your breasts bounce as you run toward me is truly a sight to behold.” His gaze drifted down her body, over the shirt that was wet and clinging to her skin. He gave a low whistle of approval. “I can now die happy.”
Loren grinned. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He mimicked her breathy tone, his eyes gleaming with amusement. She snickered, and he lifted a brow. “Where’s my kiss?”
Loren tapped her lips with the tip of her index finger. “Right here. Come and get it.”
Darien tsked. “Always making me work for it.”
“Always.”
But he closed the distance between them, took her face into his large hands, and kissed her deeply. Loren’s own hands immediately went to his soft hair, pulling him closer to her. She breathed him in, the heady scent of him filling her lungs. His tongue swept into her mouth, brushing against hers in a way that made them both groan.
I’m home, her heart sang. This is home.
But Darien broke the kiss too soon. He pulled back just far enough to assess her, the space between his brows creasing with worry. “Are you feeling alright?” He was so close she could see every tone of blue in his eyes, every inky eyelash, every small scar flecking his skin.
“I’m fine. Why?”
“You’re not fine,” he accused, his rough thumbs tracing the curve of her jaw. “Baby, your heart is skipping beats. And don’t try to tell me it’s because I make you swoon like the guys in those tacky romance novels you read.”
Loren fidgeted. He kept her face in his hands, thumbs still tracing her jaw, his touch leaving trails of heat on her skin. “They’re not tacky,” she said. “You just don’t like their covers. You can’t judge a book by the abs on its cover, Darien.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“Maybe that is the reason why.” It wasn’t a total lie, considering he did make her swoon like the guys in the books she read. Correction: more than the guys in the books she read. He was a book boyfriend dream-come-true. But that wasn’t the reason for today’s irregular heartbeat. At least, not the whole reason.
