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- Collected Works of Celestus’s Foremost Poets: Seventh Edition
Playing along,I lower my lashes and, against my better judgment, rest my hands gently on his chest. The moment I do, my heart quickens, tripping over its beat until I’m certain it will flutter out of my chest entirely.
A low, rumbling groan of approval snakes out of the demon’s throat. His grip on my chin softens, and he runs his thumb gently over my lips. “You know, female demons are a hot commodity around here.”
His touch sends electric tingles through me, and things low in my body pay attention.
OK, playtime is over. Time to put this demon in his place.
I’m here for Gael, not to succumb to demonic temptation. No matter how temptingit might be, I’m no tempted angel.
I fake a smile, take a breath, and drag my nails down his shirt. The demon’s scent deepens, swirling in my nose as he flashes a salacious smile.
“Yes, I had heard that.” I hadn’t. “But have you considered that you’d have more luck with the ladies if you didn’t invade their personal space,” I croon before shoving him away with the hands I’d just used to make him purr.
He staggers backward and would have fallen if his friends hadn’t caught his arms.
“Oh! Oh, my! I’m terribly sorry,” the demon cat, silent to this point, quips. “I seem to have brought you to the wrong room.” His tentacles grab me once more, and he shimmers me out before I get to enjoy the look on that presumptuous demon’s face.
Shame, really.
Now I’m in a dark office. Dead wood on every surface, painted black.
Low light.
More demonic scents.
The cat stands on the desk in front of me, behind which is a seated demon, his face entirely obscured by a newspaper.
“Welcome to Blackwood University, Ms. Collins,” the demon says from behind the paper. His voice is deep and resonant, just like the first demon, but it isn’t as rich. It doesn’t grab me like the other’s did.
“How do you know who I am?” I ask.
I don’t have to pretend to be shocked. Collins is the pseudonym Gael gave the hospital after the accident. I glance at the name plaque on his desk.
It only has his title.
Headmaster.
The demon lowers the local newspaper.
He’s exceptionally attractive. Black horns and midnight blue skin with strong, angled facial bones. He’d even make a lovely angel if it weren’t for the darkness in his gaze.
My mouth starts moving without my permission. “Is blue your favorite color, or are you just happy to see me?”
Oh, for the Flames sake!
Well, I’ve said it. Better own it, I suppose. I stare down at him, unblinking, daring him to say something more.
The deep-blue demon smiles with one side of his mouth. “A sense of humor. That will come in handy here.” He stands, striding to my side of the desk until we’re far too close.
This again.
But it’s different. His action isn’t charged with lust and wanting. It’s an intimidation tactic. Likely useful in determining who has the temperament to succeed in Blackwood U.
He steps even closer until his shoes touch mine, daring me to balk.
I don’t. I’ve stared into much crueler eyes.
