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I grunted as he straightened my ankle before I ripped it back from him.
“If you’re talking about that wrath I caught, you threw it at me. Ergo, it was mine as soon as you let it go.”
He chuckled. “So, you’re telling me you’ve never taken essences from other people?”
“Not my fault they let it just linger out there. If they aren’t holding onto it, does it really belong to them?”
And this time, he really laughed a rich sound that made my insides turn to goo. Ugh. My first major sexual attraction, and it just happens to be an asshole of a demon. Just. My. Luck.
But then he stood and held a hand out to me. I refused, and he rumbled again, and this time, I knew it for what it was: a compulsion. The entity inside me flared to life, the taste of his blood still lingering on my tongue, and I slapped his hand away, pushing myself up to my feet. And as amused as he had been moments before, he was the antithesis of that now, studying me carefully as I answered his stare with one of my own.
“Did you really expect me to hold your hand after the shit you just pulled?”
His only response was another loud rumble, which tugged at my chest. But I remained firmly in place, looping my thumbs into the belt loops at the sides. “Stop it.”
He reached for me, snagging my arm in his large palm and tugging me to him as he lowered his mouth down to mine again. Just as I began to respond, my arms curling around his neck, he pulled back sharply, and I moaned my irritation at his sudden loss.
“We have to go.”
“Go?” I felt a twinge of panic; the thought of him leaving the academy without me making me uncomfortable for reasons I didn’t understand.
He seemed to read my discomfort. “I have a meeting. But I’ll join you downstairs a half hour before the trials,” he gripped my chin and raised my face to his again. “And get some sleep, you look like shit.”
And before I could come up with a witty remark, he crushed his mouth down on mine again, and the familiar feeling of the black mist from earlier wrapped around us as I was left alone outside my dorm room door.
Chapter Twelve - Grandpa Lust
Marik
“Have fun?”
Before Felix could blink, I’d stolen the knife. Drew was twirling between his fingers and threw it directly into his right shoulder.
“I’m going to want that back,” Drew commented, not bothering to look up from his relaxed repose on one of the lounge chairs.
Felix grunted as he withdrew the dagger before tossing it back to Drew, who caught it in a near effortless swipe of the handle. “I take it my summons came at a bad time?”
I didn’t rise to the bait. “Where is the asshole?”
“Now, now, Marik, is that really the way to speak of your favorite Harbinger?” I scowled at the thick, lyrical aristocratic accent. Jarrico, the Harbinger of Lust, lounged over the armchair across from Drew in such a way that made even a slumped posture look graceful. His legs dangled over one arm while he leaned back in soft repose against the other as if he had no care in the world. He blended into the rich decadence of the room with his brown checkered tweed suit, short cropped copper brown hair without a single stray strand out of place, and manicured nails that I was sure hadn’t been used for anything more than pleasure in centuries.
“My favorite Harbingers are those who remember the rules and don’t waste my fucking time on reminders,” I replied coolly, leaning back against the wall and folding my arms over my chest.
“Oh, come now, I never forget the rules.”
“You just conveniently ignore them,” replied Felix as he pulled off his coat jacket to study the rend I’d left in the fabric. I could have fixed it easily enough, but I really didn’t feel like it.
As if to prove Felix’s point, Jarrico continued. “I have a message for you from Asmodeus.”
“And I’d be happy to hear it -” I paused, and Jarrico raised his brows expectedly. I continued when he took a breath to speak. “-From Thaddeus.”
Harbingers were essentially the errand runners for the seven Archdemon Kings in hell. The Harbingers were often the ones who brought messages and summons from Hell and carried out any of the personal dealings that the Kings had on Earth. Hence why, many human myths said that they would bring omens from Hell. As they were often needy creatures with heightened senses of self-worth, they had caused many petty squabbles amongst themselves, vying for my attention. When I’d finally had enough about 500 years ago, I decreed that any official business must go directly through the emissaries to prevent the appearance of favoritism. While most had begrudgingly accepted the dictate, Jarrico had not.
“This may come as a surprise, but I did try to find him at Sanctuarium. But that tech boy of yours said he was gone and wouldn’t tell me where he was and when he’d be back.”
“He’s in the South Pacific. Have fun.” I dismissed him as I turned to go back to my room.
“Asmodeus wants to speak with you as soon as possible.” I turned back to see Jarrico’s bored expression as he scuffed his nails across the front of his jacket in an over-exaggerated motion.
