Quiet Burn (Discordia University #2)

A Little Less Conversation

Slash

T he rest of Saturday and the following day were oddly calm in comparison to almost every other day this semester. Kit’s well-timed belly up pacified our Prince in a manner I’ve not seen before, and his graceful acceptance of our courting overtures changed everything. I seriously doubt that he understands what those gestures mean, and no one is eager to explain it, but allowing us to do so has been soothing.

That’s why he’s walking to class with me and his little animal with a relaxed posture rather than bristling.

“Slash?”

I look down at him expectantly and he wrinkles his nose. “What, little demon?”

“Are you staying with me in this class like… forever?”

Arching a brow, I counter, “Would that upset you?”

He frowns as we amble up to the stairs of the library, quiet until he finally turns to look at me again. “I guess not. If what we all agreed to this weekend is that we can’t stop people from making me a spectacle, especially with this faux dating thing, then nothing we do or say will have a noticeable effect on me being targeted. At least, not from our end. So if you want to make sure this bitch doesn’t corner me again, I suppose that’s more helpful than not. You know?”

The way he just talked himself into that was impressive.

“If that is your way of saying you prefer my company, it was very convoluted.”

Kit grins as we ascend the steps together, shrugging. “My brain is very convoluted most of the time. It’s a maze of trauma, smarts, fears, and a bazillion other things that keep me from operating at peak performance like most people.”

“If you think most people—demons, humans, or supes—are operating at peak performance, you’re sorely mistaken.” I open the door, letting him pass as I add, “Perhaps sometimes, but more often, they are not. It is a shared condition that connects us all.”

“You know, you are pretty damn good to talk to when we’re alone,” he says as I stab my finger into the elevator button. “I wish you wouldn’t clam up every time we’re around the others.”

I snort, shaking my head when the doors separate and we enter. “Everyone in the caliphate has their roles. Mine does not require constant chatter, so I don’t. Plus, I don’t want to get used to talking that much. I’m more effective as the big, silent enforcer in the mind of the general populace.”

“Well, I like when you talk more, even if I get why you’re not doing it,” he grumbles.

The pleasure that statement gives me is surprising, and I have to rein in my desire to find something that makes the smaller demon feel similar. Now is not the time for that sort of thing, and I can think about it after I ensure his safety in this well-protected predator’s classroom.

“We will continue this discussion on the way to your Human History class. For now, we need to present a united front, yes?” I offer him my arm, my eyes full of amusement when he rolls his eyes.

Kit takes my arm and lets me guide him into the room to a seat as far from the lectern as we possibly can get. He smirks at my choice and I shrug. I’m not above keeping him far from the Cubi’s reach as a front line defense. Not every strategy has to begin with aggression even if it is often the most effective way to achieve success quickly.

Hopefully, this irritating minor demoness doesn’t force me to do something drastic to fulfill my duty.

The Fates must have been smiling on Hell today because I didn’t have to intervene with Kit’s class much. He was able to answer every question Lilibet threw at him—something I know was made possible by the intense studying he did this weekend. He’s smart as a whip and memorizes things very quickly. If the ridiculously ill-timed Games hadn’t been announced, I think our new member might have managed to catch up with his studies by mid-semester. As it is now, he’s doing the best he can despite his deficiencies.

A lack of magical power and the knowledge of how to use it properly isn’t just a tiny flaw, but I can give him credit for doing what he’s able to.

As we walk to his Human History class, I keep my eyes peeled for anyone watching us too closely for my comfort. It’s extremely suspicious that no one from administration has mentioned the demons who died in that fire, nor has there been any alert about campus safety. I know Jasper told me that his fire wasn't what started the blaze, and Salem confided that his Circadian rhythms were only changed for the day following the problem in the cafeteria. I believe those things, paired with a few other oddities, mean that Kit has powers manifesting that he’s unaware of. I could be wrong, but I’m usually not in this regard. The hybrid demon we’re protecting has accepted this world, but he hasn’t quite reconciled his role in it.

“Slash, you’re quiet again.”

I chuckle softly, looking down at him. “You didn’t seem like the type who craves constant chatter until this morning.”

“I’m not . I just… enjoy talking to you. You’re not overly excited about discovering what I am, nor are you judgmental about how slowly I’m acclimating to my new fucking reality.”

That’s what he thinks? He’s too slow?

“Little demon, you are being too harsh with yourself. You’ve adjusted to a complete reset of your world with aplomb—which most beings would not be able to accomplish. Your powers and true heritage not popping up with a blinking neon billboard would be much less of an issue if Hell wasn’t experiencing an upheaval of its own.” He squints at me as if to ensure I’m serious and I nod. “Otherwise, we would be curious, but not anxious about it.”

“Are you sure about that? I think Jasper would poke at me no matter what.”

He’s not wrong, but I don’t need to tell him that.

“My point was that you need to give yourself as much time to deal with the changes as you have to deal with your past. Isn’t that what your therapy taught you?”

He goes quiet for a second then gives me the most adorably frustrated look I’ve ever seen. “Stop being so damn smart all the time. You’ll give me another complex.”

My lips quirk as Kit pulls one of the snack bars from his bag, handing me one color-coded for my needs, then takes out one for himself, and a miniature one for the kinkajou on his shoulder. “Salem is just as bad as you, you know. These were in my bag this morning when I packed my study stuff from last night in it. He’s determined to make sure you succeed in keeping me fed and shit.”

Opening mine and taking a bite, I chew quickly. “He is fond of you, as are we all, and he has always provided the snacks for us. It took him a couple years to develop the right mix for our various animals, but he’s very good at what he does.”

The soft groan startles me and Kit flushes as he wipes his mouth. “I don’t know why I love these damn berries so much, but every time I eat something made with them, it makes me sound like a porn star.”

I gape at him for a second, stopping in place, and he laughs. “That was very… crass… for you.”

“Maybe demons are rubbing off on me,” he says with a wink and a saucy smirk. My brows furrow as he turns to walk toward the history wing with a bit of a spring in his step.

Something is off about how he responds to those berries and I want it looked into.

“Wait up,” I growl, hurrying to get even with him. He’s whistling a bit as he eats the rest of the bar and it makes me think my suspicion is correct. “You know I have to stay with you until I drop you at class, then Oriel will pick you up for the lunch period.”

“Slaaashhhh. I know that,” he says as we come to the doorway to his lecture hall. “But I have lots of energy now—which is what you guys want—and I don’t want that to fade during class. Alabaster is a pain in the ass, and I want to be on my toes to spar with him.”

He pulls the door open and I give him a stern look. “Kit, be cautious how much trouble you stir up when none of us are present. And keep the chat open for emergencies as you have in the past.”

Dottie chitters at me, holding her fist in the air and I wait until Kit nods his agreement. Allowing him to head in, I keep watch as he chooses a seat in a corner where no one can get behind him and he can see the entire room. It calms my ire a bit that he’s making certain he’s safe, but I also dislike that he had this overdeveloped sense of self-preservation before he came to Hell. His extreme caution tells me how violent his past assault was, and how much we don’t know about the aftermath of it.

I don’t like that, either.

As I walk away from the hall, I pull my phone out, opening the chat that does not include Kit. I also dislike speaking about him behind his back, but there are things he is not ready for and my brothers and I must discuss.

Enforcer: Package delivered.

Prince: I don’t think we need codes.

Thief: I disagree. Code words are always useful.

Hacker: No one is getting into your phone, Oriel.

Thief: No shit, Zav. I’ve got your encryption plus levels you’ve only dreamed of.

Hacker: Thieves are such braggarts.

Enforcer: This conversation has gone off-track.

Chef: I’ll say.

Spy: Slash, why did you text? It’s not to confirm you dropped Kit off.

Enforcer: Because I want Salem and Zavida to look into what species and magics might be especially sensitive to crunkleberries.

Chef: His snack bar?

Enforcer: Yes. It made him much… peppier… and slightly bawdy, which is unusual.

Thief: I miss everything good.

Prince: Bawdy?

Enforcer: Focus, all of you.

Designer: This is a lot of discussion for a research request. Perhaps you’re all angry Kit has classes we are unable to monitor? If so, you’re getting weird, guys.

Prince: That’s it; everyone back to class.

Rolling my eyes, I shove my phone back in my pocket as I cross the quad to get to the arena. I’ll see the Prince at my Weapons & Tactics session, and now that he's grumpy again, I’m not looking forward to it. The Prince gets very irritable when anyone points out that we need to give Kit breathing room, and I believe it’s because Jasper doesn’t know how to do that with someone he gives a shit about. He runs our caliphate by keeping tight reins on everyone, and we allow it because we’re used to his gruff way of showing that he considers us important.

Being the Prince helps, too, of course .

But the little demon is never going to let Jasper wrap him in bubble wrap until he’s able to defend himself. How any of us are going to convince our leader to be okay with the newest person he’s hyper-focused on protecting, I don’t know. Zavida is fucking him, so he doesn’t balk at the possessive bent to Jasper’s nature. This is a different situation entirely—for now—and if I can work out how to get the two of them to stop spitting at one another, maybe we’ll all have a good time at this idiotic party in a couple of days.

It is not the Yulemas, but miracles can happen even in Hell if you try hard enough.