I bite into a leg of roast chicken before sucking the juice off my thumb. “Fuck you. How about that?” I toss it back onto my plate. I don’t want to take it out on them, and I know it’s not their fault, but right now, I don’t care about logic. I care about ripping away the days that led to that moment I saw her, just to see her again. So I can tell her that I hate her.
I hate a lot of things.
Like how we’re required to live on campus with the rest of the Gifted as if our parents don’t sit on the throne back in Stygian. Rathe U, even if it’s our temporary home, sits on its own at the edge of the clearing, protected from the eyes of the other Gifted via whirls of what we’re forced to call “protective smoke,” the true term forbidden here, a thick midnight gray sort of fog that conjures up your worst fears and uses them against you if you dare to approach it without permission.
The Ministry fought our parents on that one but lost. Like the royal family of Stygian, the dark, more superior world would put all their remaining heirs in one place as an easy fucking target without the protection of royal magic, spells created and bound in royal blood ensuring no other could ever attempt its use.
I also fucking hate when my oldest brother looks at me like I’m about to rip someone’s head off who doesn’t deserve it. I might. Have before.
We’re stuck in a stare-off when Silver sits down beside me, his head swiveling from Creed to me.
“What’d I miss?” he asks, dismissing his server as quickly as his food arrives.
“Boy’s lost it.” Sin grins through a mouthful of saffron seasoned pork.
“Fuck you. If you’d have come when I called, you’d have seen for yourself.”
“I was about to come when you called, you cock-blocking bitch.” He chuckles, winking at Alexandra as she takes the seat to my left. “Ain’t that right, babe?”
“There was no cock-blocking to speak of.” She lays her napkin in her lap. “Whoever I had in my hands last night was well taken care of.”
A round of laughter fills the table. The girl never did care which Lord she was lying with. I glare down at my food, hardly tasting the meal before me.
When I offer nothing in explanation to Silver’s question, Creed does it for me. “He’s dead set on some girl who saw us partying last night.”
I don’t have to look at Silver, even though his eyes are on me.
“Still?” he asks. “Even after we talked to Gabriel? He said his shield held strong, no penetration, no breaks. Not even a sign of anyone testing his strength for fun.”
I say nothing.
The fuck can I say?
That I felt that shit? Felt her eyes on me?
That the wind gifted me her scent the moment I desired it, even from the other side of the street and without using elemental manipulation to call it to me?
How my ass was tense and pissy as fuck until a fusion of lavender, cinnamon, and cayenne hit my nostrils and spread through my bloodstream, calming and heating my blood until I was sure it would turn to lava and erupt from every orifice of my body?
How, while there were lips wrapped around my cock, the feeling of her eyes on mine was what brought me my finale, sending my cum squirting down a throat that was too shallow, too cold?
Fuck would they say to all that?
Maybe I need to lay off the Fae dust.
Sensing his gaze on me, I flick my eyes up at Creed.
He’s watching me closely, and I feel his sneaky little gift probing, searching and poking at the edges of my blocking spell, looking for a way into my mind he won’t find.
Like all the Gifted are required to do before enrolling here at Rathe U, I’ve mastered the basic prerequisites, but our parents weren’t satisfied with the simplicity of the skills that those spells required because they knew, if there are people out there like us who have the same gifts as our family line, those measly little tricks will do nothing to keep others out.
You have to really hone in on your abilities to keep a Deveraux out of your head. It’s too bad for my ever-prying brother, Creed, that Legend and I already have. Shit, we started learning those the minute we could talk.
Silver’s still waiting for a response, but when he realizes he’s not going to get one on that topic, he changes it, like a good friend would. “You got me good, my man.” He grins good-heartedly. “I thought I had you for a minute there too.”
I smirk at my food , jabbing the knife in the meat and sweeping it across the pile of blood that seeps from the center. At no point did he almost have me, but instead of telling him that, I say, “When your eyes shift, your power is shifting with them. You need to find a way to keep yourself aware without breaking concentration.”
Creed nods, thinking over everything I just said before turning to Silver and going into a long explanation of how exactly he can try to accomplish that. Being the most technically trained of the four of us, Creed has placed the responsibility on his shoulders to make sure we are as prepared for any situation possible at the same caliber as he is. And because Silver is my closest friend and the one man I trust outside of my brothers, that extends to him as well.
Creed may only be one year older than me, but he’s always placed a heavier expectation on his shoulders, doing everything in his power to make sure we always have what we need, and when we don’t, he finds a way to get it for us. It’s a lot of pressure for him to want to solve all of our problems, but he’s just wired that way, so we let him do his thing, even if it is really fucking annoying sometimes.
Legend strolls in, a harem of girls surrounding him as per usual. Around here, he’s known as the softest Deveraux brother. The sweet, kind, gentle one of us four.
He is all those things, but he’s also a swordfish in a tank full of sharks, seemingly the underdog when he’s anything but. His ability to shut down the anger or panic or pain of others is highly underrated and he fucking loves it that way.
Rather than dropping into his usual seat, he steps up behind me with a grin so fucking smug I can only glare at his ass.
“What?”
“Found her.”
My fist tightens around my fork, and it takes real effort to keep my face blank. “Found who?”
That smirk on his face only spreads. “I’ll give you three guesses, but you and I both know you only need one.”
My pulse fucking jumps, my cock right there with it.
’Cause he fucking found her.
She’s here, in this town.
And she’s got some fucking explaining to do.
Seven
London
My hand grazes over the cool stone as I step back, taking in my work. Rose quartz. The stone of love, self-love, emotional calm, and healing.
Leaning down to come eye-level to the sphere, I look deep into the pastel pink swirls of the gem. I’m not a big fan of rose quartz. It has always seemed too pretty, too tame. Like it was trying too hard to be perfect.
I turn around to the other shelf, my muscles relaxing when I settle on the dark obsidian cluster. I like the masculinity of the stone. Protection—power. Safety. My hand grazes over the hard curves and I inhale when I feel the slight tickle of warmth rush down my back. I’m not sure what it is about the idea of safety and protection that speaks to me. It’s not like I’ve been in any sort of danger. At least, not the real kind. In ‘danger’ of failing my classes? Always, but the kind that hurts or leaves you broken and bruised? Not so much. I smirk to myself. Maybe these bad boys are doing as they’re intended.