Quiet Burn (Discordia University #2)

9 to 5

Zavida

L ooking at the row of seats I saved, I fidget a little. This thing with Kit is making my anxiety higher, especially because I know what I need to do to fix it. I could have followed my instincts from the day he walked into our lives, but instead, I let Jasper’s unfounded hatred of the kid lead me. It’s a failing, but I haven’t had to control it before. Usually, the guys let it go and give me shit later on. This time, they’re serious as hell.

That’s without Kit serving me up a steaming hot truth sandwich that made my tails wilt.

“Backbone, Z. You have to show you have backbone and can be trusted,” I mutter to myself as I set up my notes system.

Organizing my desktop with everything I need to feel like I’ll be able to focus on the class helps a lot. I don’t always use every single bit of it—in fact, I often use very little—but the routine of putting each thing out in its place and making my space comfortable helps me immensely. I suppose the humans would say I’ve got ADHD and perhaps, based on their diagnostic criteria, I do. I looked it up once to satisfy my curiosity and it's definitely very familiar. But after years of managing my tics and quirks, I’ve got it down to science much like Kit seems to with his issues.

Not that any of my other brothers have theirs on lock down because demons don’t believe in labeling that shit.

Speaking of barely contained quirks, Salem lumbers up first, yawning as he takes the seat next to me. The bear has been struggling since morning, so I’ll have to make sure the person to his right is on the ball with keeping him awake or Jasper will murder him. Today is lecture day in Arms we can’t let them see division.”

“ You remember that? Really?” Oriel says in surprise. “Damn, Salem, you are paying attention in between naps, man. Good job.”

Before Salem can reach over to smack the crow, Kit intervenes with a stern look. “What did he just say? No division. If I can’t give Prince Cockwaffle a hard time, you have to behave as well. I mean, didn’t he say you guys are supposed to help me stay calm?”

“Very smart, KitKat. Use the Prince’s order against them even though you’d rather swallow acid than follow them,” Anton snickers as he holds his fist out for a bump. “You’re picking up on demonic behavior quite nicely, I think.”

“ Excuse me! ”

Our heads whip around to see the demon in question practically vibrating with rage at the front of the room and my tails pop free before I can stop it. Ducking behind them, I breathe slowly. I’m not afraid of Jasper; I hate disappointing people. My parents weren’t great with that situation and it sends me into a spiral when I know I’ve done something wrong that upsets people I care about. Salem’s big hand lands on my arm as I grip the chair and it’s more soothing than I expected.

“Are you six quite finished with your off-sides conversation? I’d like to begin discussing the evolution of projectile weaponry throughout Hell’s ages.” Jasper blows four fat smoke rings in our directions and his eyes turn to slits. “But I could certainly demonstrate instead if you’re inclined to continue interrupting my class.”

Fuck. He’s so goddamn pissed.

“Mr. Draven, would you like to start us off?”

My eyes widen as Jasper calls my full name and asks me to guess what the hell he might be starting this lecture with. I have no idea and I was already fighting my kitsune as it is. Damn him; he’s taking whatever happened before class out on me. “Uh...”

“If it’s like where I come from, I’d guess rocks were the first projectiles. He’s not dumb,” Kit says in a sarcastic tone. “Humans aren’t as old as you guys, but I can’t imagine Hell has a shortage of them.”

“Oh, shit,” Oriel breathes. “Now you’ve done it.”

The Prince’s eyes flash with his dragon and I tug my tails tighter. Kit just threw himself in front of the bullet for me without a second thought. Now I feel even worse about being a coward for the past week. Damn the guy is better than all of us—maybe even the best person we’ve ever met—and Jasper is going to raze him to the ground.

“Why are we discussing projectiles in lecture, anyway? It’s different from last week.”

Xerxes has entered the game... that’s unexpected.

Our brother is fuming at the front of the room, but even he realizes that X doesn’t often shout things out in class. A sarcastic aside or comment, maybe, but not something as outwardly aggressive as this. He lets out a long breath, obviously calming himself before he responds. “That may be correct, Xerxes, but the Headmaster has given every professor new lesson plans to discuss as we begin the ramp up to the Games. Despite not owing anyone an explanation of my curriculum, perhaps that will end this ridiculous conversation?”

“Sure as fuck will,” Kit mutters in a barely audible tone. “No wonder the stick up his ass has shifted so high.”

Every one of my caliphate tenses in place as we fight the urge to burst out laughing, even me. Kit is afraid of so much and nothing at all simultaneously. It’s fascinating—he’s perfectly willing to risk his ass to tell people off when they deserve it yet is so haunted by ghosts of his past. I guess none of us should be surprised he turned our entire group upside down. He’s as broken as we are but totally unconcerned about tearing through life with little abandon.

Are humans right about that therapy shit? Now I’m curious as fuck.

“Yeah, that helps, Professor,” Anton says loudly. He’s still futzing with his jacket, but his tone is steady and confident like normal. I’m always impressed by his ability to don a mask so effortlessly, and hopefully, it backs Jas off until after class.

“Fabulous,” Jasper says drily. “Now if everyone will shut the fuck up and pay attention to the screen, I won’t have to send you on laps of the Wastelands as punishment.”

A chorus of grumbles rises from the entire class, and Kit coughs over another barb.

It’s like he really can’t stop himself, and I’m kind of here for it—who knew?