Disgusting
Jasper
M y Arms class was incredibly subdued after the mess of the previous day. The idiots sparred without magic carefully as if they might draw out my dragon at any given moment—which is probably true. Seeing the shrimp and my other caliphate brothers injured was one the hardest things I’ve had to witness while keeping control of my inner beast. At home, I could have let the dragon lose his shit, flown off and destroyed stuff for a while, then come back to deal with my fury once the fire was burned out. Here, I don’t have that luxury and managing my emotions without the carnage is… difficult.
Not to mention my fucking sub gives me disappointed looks anytime I lash out to relieve the pressure. Like it’s my fault the target is always the mouthy shrimp who defies me at every turn?
Growling under my breath, I stalk towards the Admin building with determination filling my veins. While my second is baby-sitting the two injured members, I’m going to find out what the goddamn hell that dumbfuck Darkstar thinks he’s doing with all these shitty edicts. They’re causing problems for the entire program, not just my brothers. According to the email from the infirmary imps, their beds are filled with demons injured enough to miss classes until mid next week. That’s before we discount the actual dead demons the crews burned and gathered ashes to send home to families.
I may not have been responsible for any of their deaths directly, but they occurred in my class, and I’m not fond of the hint of failure it implies. Eversores do not fail and my father will be sending a displeased missive soon enough. He doesn’t care about the deaths in any emotional sense, nor do I, but our reputation is marred by the loss of control in public. It doesn’t matter whether I was coerced to run the training this way, nor does it matter that it was a set-up. The King expected me to find a way to come out victorious and I did not.
His wrath will be painful and I will take all of it so the rest of my brothers aren’t subjected to whatever punishment he sends along.
There are far too many demons milling about, so I let out a dark snarl. My powers ripple outward and they scatter, making a wide, clear pathway for me to storm through until I reach the double doors. Yanking them open, I stomp into the atrium and up the stairs. Darkstar’s office is only three floors up and I don’t trust myself to be trapped in an elevator with the dipshits fucking around in this place.
By the time I get to his floor, I’m chewing my lip ring, the irritation at the stupid politics I’m going to have to wrangle flowing in my veins like hot lava. My eyes narrow as I see Beccarus and Silvera scurrying around the outer office meekly. Compared to me they’re gnats, but their connection to Lucian makes them feel powerful enough to smirk as I enter their space. I want to crush their throats with my bare hands; however, that would only exacerbate the conflict my visit will ignite.
“His Lordship does not have you on his calendar,” Beccarus sneers as he pretends to stop and straighten files on his short desk. “You will not be seen today, Prince Eversore. Many apologies.”
He doesn’t mean that and his expression makes that very clear. I snort derisively, striding towards the closed door of the office. Silvera adds to his protests as I ignore them and yank the doors open to find Lucian fucking that predator, Lillabet, into the wood grain of his desk. I have to swallow a laugh at his ridiculous cape fluttering while his pants are around his ankles, exposing pasty flesh. His stupid long hair is sticking to his face, and he looks distinctly like I’d imagine some aging hipster human trying to recapture his youth.
Demons don’t age the same, but this is definitely amusing as fuck, even with wrinkles or receding hairlines.
“This explains why I’m struggling to get this bitch removed for her sins,” I drawl as I lean on the doorframe. “She’s letting you and half the demons in this school plug her holes when it suits her. Pathetic.”
Lucian grabs the succubus’s hair and lifts her head as he continues driving into her. “Tsk, tsk, Prince. The rumors say you’re far more progressive than insulting a female for their sexual prowess. I guess it’s all some sort of PR move to make the royal youth seem hip.”
I have no idea which dumbass statement to address first, so I laugh as I tip my head back. Darkstar isn’t quite as ancient as my father, but he’s older than me by enough that he thinks this kind of manipulation will work on me. As if I give one single sliver of a fuck about what a washed up old pit sucker thinks of my character. Demons like him are so far below me that I’ve never worried about their opinions or desires—both as royalty and as a different generation of demon.
“Satan’s frilly slips, Darkstar. I knew you were dense, but that was special,” I say with a dark grin. “Imagine thinking the Prince of Hell would be bothered by the opinions of a crusty old loser who cosplays an evil magic user from a human movie while stuck running the school for demons far more elite than you’ll ever be. It’s deliciously delusional and the fact that you assumed I was judging this disgusting bitch from X’s line for her appetites is even better.”
“I am a professor and you can’t?—”
My eyes flash golden with the fury of my dragon as I growl, “You will be silent, lower demon!” Lillabet’s mouth closes and I watch her struggle to open it so she can spout nasty shit. “No one is talking to you, so I am not going to allow you to contribute.”
Darkstar snickers but doesn’t stop his revolting fucking. “Just you and I, mmm, Your Highness?”
The urge to pluck out my own eyeballs is rioting within me, but I don’t let it show on my face. “My disdain for this demoness is based on her skating the rules of the school and her lineage with feeding. And if I cannot remove her through administrative means, I will find a way to handle the situation on my own. But she is not why I came to your den of filth, Darkstar.”
“Oh?” he says, pounding the Cubi harder with his claws digging into her ass.
I’m never going to sleep again, for fuck’s sake.
“Stop fucking with my training,” I retort. “If I’m required to train inferior demons for the Games, your constant meddling will prevent me from executing that duty. Losing or maiming competitors before the first round limits the glory Discordia can achieve. You are wasting resources—both cannon fodder and potential high performers—by fucking around in the pre-trial period.”
His lips curve up and I roll my eyes as Lillabet looks like she’d been making noise if I hadn’t commanded her silence. I don’t give a shit about whether that sound would be about pain or pleasure, though. The tale of Oriel saving the unwilling, traumatized shrimp from her clutches burns in my gut as I ignore her. Whatever Darkstar is doing is much better than she deserves for daring to come near what is mine.
My caliphate, of course.
“Prince Jasper, I cannot fathom what you are referring to. I have only sent instructions based on the documents received from the official Caliphate Games committee.”
I suck in a deep breath, looking up to the ceiling as if I’m asking someone to help me control my temper. That’s idiotic, of course, because demons don’t pray nor do they ask for help from some deity above. But the gesture is as ingrained in us as it is for other supernaturals and humans, so I stare at the vaulted roof of Darkstar’s office, counting in my head until I feel controlled enough to continue. When I’m able, I look at his face, still pretending Lillabet isn’t there.
“I wasn’t called into being yesterday, Lucian. We’ve reviewed all the official documents ad nauseum . While your interference doesn’t rise to the level of Games tampering, it is very close. My visit should be a warning.”
He smirks at me. “You’d have to prove it, Eversore. Are you ready to make this an imputation before the crown? If not, I’m busy, as you can plainly see.”
The grunt that slips out of the demoness makes me narrow my eyes and I murmur a hex under my breath. Her skin breaks out in boils that rupture with gross fluids, yet it doesn’t stop the asswipe Headmaster from continuing to fuck her. If I’m ever that desperate, I hope the shit someone cuts off my goddamn head and puts me out of my misery. Shuddering, I ball my fists at my side, internally grumbling that Anton’s suggestion to help me drain my rage isn’t working.
“You know I am not,” I grit out. “But I promise I will take my vengeance if you cause my students to risk their lives for training again. The Games require that sacrifice and we have no choice, but I am unwilling to have that consequence be part of their educational time.”
“I don’t believe you, Prince,” he taunts with a slow, dark smile. “In fact, I believe you are here for something far more interesting than simply bristling at my intervention in your classroom. Thank you for sharing that tidbit. I’ll be sure to use it later on. Now… get. out. ”
Cracking my neck, I assess the situation. My stomach is roiling at the sight of these two fuckwits and I’m getting nowhere. Lucian knows I could fuck up his world if I chose to make this more than an academic disagreement, but that would bring attention I do not want from my father and his cronies. Without escalating this, I’m wasting my breath and being creeped out at the same time.
“Fine. Enjoy your pity fuck.” The corner of my mouth tips up and I release Lillabet’s mouth as I push off the doorframe.
They both try to clap back, but I’m gone before they manage to think of anything to say.
Fucking losers.
Having wasted most of my free periods, I head straight for Canto IV. We agreed to have lunch together in the dorm instead of the Triclinium to allow the shrimp and Xerxes to be comfortable. They would have to be uniformed in the communal lunch area and deal with more walking than I felt it worthy of. Accepting that request from Salem wasn’t hard, and now that I’ve had to watch that gross display at length, I’m glad.
The anger rippling off of me scares the other freshman away as I enter our dorm and I grin to myself. Being royal and a dragon has benefits too numerous to name.
When I get to Salem’s room, I take a deep breath like Zavvie suggested. He thinks I need to clear my emotions before I deal with everyone, especially if the shrimp will be present. I’m not sure what he thinks will change, but he asks for very little. Besides, I would like for the only family I give a shit about not to give me angry looks constantly, so I’m playing along.
I open the door, blinking at the sight before me. Kit is in his chair and Xerxes is on his couch, but on the floor is my general and my thief, studiously painting their toenails.
What in the fucking shit is this?!
Salem is in the kitchen, cooking as usual, but I can’t even covet the delicious smells coming from his efforts because I’m so shocked. “What the hell are you two assholes doing?”
Slash whips his head around, his eyes dark with anger. “I am assisting the little demon with self-care as he has an injured limb. Oriel agreed to assist X.”
Oriel chuckles, his shoulders shaking as he finishes a toe. He studies the foot for a moment, then turns to look at me in exasperation. “Jas, you don’t care that we’re doing supposed girly shit, so stop it. I wear polish all the time, so does X. You’re pissed that we’re sitting below KK and X to do it, which is dumb. KK doesn’t even know the demon culture stuff yet, so chill.”
“What don’t I know?” the shrimp asks, looking curious. “Tell me why he’s got a crab in his ass again. I like knowing what makes him pissy.”
I’ll just bet you do, you little shit.
For the second time today, I smirk as I reply, “No one has permission to tell him and that’s a royal decree.” Slash’s expression says he’s going to murder me when he gets me alone, but the look of frustration on the new kid’s face is worth it.
I’m a twisted fuck, but at least I’m trying.