Page 8 of Vayn

“Stay,” he ordered.

I gave him my meanest side eye. “I’m not a dog. Don’t tell me to stay.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

“I’m the only person out here.” Oh, wait. Maybe he was talking to his shadows. “You were talking to your shadows, huh?”

He cocked his head to the side. “How are you able to see them? You’re not powerful enough. You’re not powerful at all,” he said, ignoring my question.

“How did you get the job as my guardian? Because you’re not qualified for this position. You’re not qualified at all.”

As soon as I uttered those words, an errant thought flitted through my brain. I bet there are other positions he’s very much qualified for. Like doggy style, missionary, reverse cowgirl, and flying flamingo. That was actually a position, flying flamingo. It was real. And it hurt. And it was illegal in some states.

A growl rumbled through his chest as his scowl intensified. I should probably stop asking him questions and continue limping to my room. The sooner I got away from him and the dangerous energy he exuded, the better. Plus, I was in desperate need of pain pills.

“Never mind,” I told him as I dusted myself off. “You don’t have to answer my question. It’s late. I’m tired, and I need a shower. Since we’re done here, I’m going to my room.”

I tried to walk past him. He moved to block my path.

“Answer my question, then you can go,” he bargained.

“I’m pretty sure there’s no rule that states I must answer my guardian’s questions.”

I stepped to the left. He blocked me again. This dance was already getting old.

“Have you been able to see me for the entire two months?” he asked.

“Yes. Now, move.”

“How could you see me? You’re supposed to be a dud.”

“First of all, I hate the word dud. I’m a late manifester. And second, being able to see you isn’t an ability. It’s a curse.”

That granted me another low growl. But he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, eyes drilling a hole into me. The way his gaze was roaming over me made me uncomfortable in the most delicious way.

“What are you looking at?” I asked in an attempt to keep my thoughts in the present and not on 69 gutter lane.

His eyes widened a fraction. “You can still see me?”

“You’re still standing there. So, yeah, I can still see you. Seriously, I’m getting frustrated. Why are you blocking my path?”

He took a step forward. I barely resisted the urge to take a step back, partly because I feared falling and landing on my ass again. I was already sore. I didn’t want to add more pain to my poor body. I don’t heal as fast as the others due to me being a late manifester and all.

“I’ve added another cloaking shield around me. Yet, you can still see me,” he mumbled.

I sighed. “Don’t feel bad. I’ve been able to see the creatures who hide in the shadows all my life.”

His brow lifted. “Does the dean know this?”

“Of course. I told him all about it when I was first brought here.”

“And he still put you with the late manifesting students?”

I held up my hand for him to see. “No claws, no fangs, no ability to blend into the shadows, no power that even baby descendants have. It’s clear that I’m a late manifester. Seeing the boogey man isn’t a power. It’s a curse. The dean says my father or mother, whichever one was a Fallen, must’ve marked me with a rune so I could see into the shadows. I’ve checked my entire body. I haven’t found a rune.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and asked, “Do you know your human parent?”

I shook my head, then paused. “Wait. Why are you asking questions you should already know the answers to?”