Chapter 15
Fifteen
Trauma being retained in muscle is the bane of any survivors existence. Because no matter how much you think you’ve moved on, no matter how much you force your mind to continue forwards, no matter what you tell yourself. . . your body never lies.
I know he’s not a devil. He’s not him. But he feels like one. I hadn’t lied when I told Thorne that.
His aura is so similar. And my body remembers.
It starts with my muscles tensing. Waiting for that inevitable blow – whether it be from a physical weapon, his teeth sinking into my skin, or forcing my fangs into his.
And while I force my blood to stay steadily flowing, force my heart not to pound, I can still feel the adrenaline flushing my system.
“Cat got your tongue, Trouble?”
Ice and frost. I focus on that because he is not burning and heat and rage.
Twisting my head I’m greeted by icy blue almond shaped eyes. So, so similar to his. But his hair is white threaded with silver. The devil’s had been solid black.
He cocks his head at me and his lip twitches. As if he wants to sneer but doesn’t quiet do it yet.
“Why’d you burn your hand?”
My heartbeat trips. “Were you following me?”
He smirks now. “Not until I saw you expose your hand. So tell me, why’d you burn yourself?”
Fuck. I hadn’t felt his eyes on me before. I wasn’t even distracted either. Normally I’m good at knowing when I’m being watched. An instinctual thing that’s been engrained into me from that damned devil and his fated mage.
“I wanted to ask Professor Asier a question,” I say instead.
Answering his first question. I’d ask him if he knew where the professors office is, but I don’t want to risk him asking for something in return for the answer.
I already have to figure out how I’m going to pay the demigod back.
Even though he hasn’t flaunted my mark or asked for anything – yet.
Darian hums as he slides his hands into his pockets.
My body relaxes the slightest bit and his eyes rove over me probably seeing it.
Though I roll my eyes at myself because just because his hands aren’t out doesn’t mean he still can’t use some form or magic to hurt me.
I don’t even know what his specialty is.
He’s an angel so I know he has wings, but angels have all sorts of magic.
Huffing, he turns and begins walking. After a couple strides he stops and turns back. “You coming? Asier’s office isn’t over here.”
Steeling myself, I raise a brow at him. “And what is it you want in return?”
Nothing is given for free.
“Tell me why you let yourself burn.”
Rolling out my shoulders, I shrug and begin following him. “I miss feeling the sun. It’s not that deep. As long as I’m not exposed for more than a few seconds I’ll heal fine enough. I miss the warmth.”
I almost say I miss the warmth without the burning. He probably wouldn’t think much of it since I can burn, but the runic curse that was placed on me is more than just me burning in the sun.
He doesn’t say anything as he starts leading the way. The last time I felt warmth without the burning was when Caleb made his ball of warmful light that mimicked the sun. It had been the first time since I was six I had felt warmth like that. The kind you can feel in your bones. In your soul.
God I miss him. I miss all of them and home. It’s only been two months but I more than anyone know how long time can feel in short periods. A whole eternity can pass within seconds.
“What’s a sun devil?”
His question makes me almost jump. I didn’t think he’d ask any more questions, and I especially didn’t think he’d ask that question.
He doesn’t look at me when I glance at him. His strides are long but I’ve kept up fine enough, though I’ve stayed about half a step behind from directly beside him.
I shrug, even though he can’t see it. “It was what the devil who adopted me when I was younger called himself.”
I can see his shoulders stiffen and his neck strain. A chill fans off him making me shiver. His aura roiling and anger accompanies it. Not surprising since he probably knows the devil abused me and I called him the same thing.
“Why did you call me that?”
His voice is quiet and calm, but in the same way the calm is before a storm. Or rather, in the eye of the storm.
Facing forward, I don’t look at him anymore.
“You look like him,” I state. “And your aura feels similar to his, though I can see it’s stronger. I have no doubt you would be more powerful than him even as an angel.”
He stops abruptly and turns towards me. I jerk back so I’m a step away from him and not almost brushing his shoulder with mine.
“You can see my aura?”
Oh fucking hell.
I keep my body still and my expression neutral.
Nana taught me enough about each of the races including vampires, but she never mentioned if they’re able to see auras.
Most people can feel them. Aura is how you can tell the magnitude and essentially vibe of someone’s power, where magic is the action of it.
Aura is the spirit and soul where magic is the body and movement.
Jullia’s aura tends to be cold but soothing. Gentle waves in the middle of the sea. Her magic is controlling and manipulating water – among other things.
Nana’s aura is power and death. A pyre of bones cracking beneath roaring flames. Her magic is controlling and manipulating the body – whether that be one still alive or already dead. As long as it still has bones.
But I can also see that Jullia’s aura is ribbons of white light threaded with strings of the darkest blue. Nana’s is a coil of slithering threads usually always wrapped around her body in pitch black. Though at the very center of herself I have seen a ball of dim white.
I never told Nana I could actually see auras at times. Is that not normal? Darian is looking at me like it’s not normal.
He takes a step closer to me and I take one back. His expression turns guarded as he surveys me again.
“You said you can see my aura,” he states. I neither confirm nor deny. “Who’s fucking blood turned you?”
I don’t answer that either because it didn’t seem like he was actually asking me. More like he was thinking out loud.
Stepping back, he spins on his heel and continues walking. I follow after a beat and he says nothing else until we come to a section of the school I haven’t been to before. There’s a closed door at the end of a hallway Darian bangs on before leaving without a second glance.
The thick, dark wooden door cracks open and gold ringed red eyes peak out. They look at Darian’s retreading back first, then they snap to me and dark brows lower.
“Ms. Tsuki,” he rumbles as he opens the door a bit more. It allows me to see his white button up he usually wears, though it’s a bit rumped, the top few buttons are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up. “Is there something I can help you with?”
I try to look past him into his office, but his broad freakin shoulders block the view. Stupid tall ass men.
Clearing my throat and straightening my back, I ask, “I wanted to ask if you knew about runic magic? I had some questions about them, but I can’t find any books about it and I was told you had taught a chapter about them in the past.”
His brows raise a fraction as his eyes barely widen. His posture relaxes too and it causes his hold on the edge of the door to widen.
“Yes, I did a couple years ago,” he confirms. “But runic magic isn’t taught at Syngenia. That’s why there are no books about it. What exactly do you want to know about runic magic?”
I frown at him. “But isn’t runic magic the oldest learned magic? It dates back to the first blood witch and born vampyr. Weren’t you able to learn it when you were a student? Why would they stop teaching it?”
Surprise flickers again in his eyes as he releases his hold on the door and crosses his arms.
“I graduated from Syngenia almost two hundred and fifty years ago, Ms. Tsuki. Many things have changed since then.”
Two hund – damn. Goddamn. Growing up in both worlds of mortal and nonmortal I forget about things like that. Like how for most beings they don’t fully mature until they’re twenty-five and then that’s when they’re aging starts to slow.
And devils. . . well devils can live for centuries. Two hundred and fifty. . . ? So in human years he’s probably somewhere between late twenties to late thirties.
Not that he looks it.
“Well,” I drawl, trying not to think about his age, “is it banned? Speaking or learning about runes? If not, could you answer some questions for me?”
Or are you too old to remember?
His eyes flicker with something as his expression darkens a shade. Opening his door wider, he says, “I am not too old to remember, Ms. Tsuki.”
Oof.
I wince and double check all of my mental shields.
Normally I have them completely closed and guarded, even while sleeping, so a being would have to force their way in if I didn’t allow them access to my mind.
That thought, however, must have slipped between the cracks.
Every once in a while it will happen for thoughts I don’t have to explicitly keep locked up.
But I catch a bit of a smirk before he turns around and moves deeper into his office.
I take that as my invitation and clear my throat as I contemplate closing the door or not.
“Close the door, please,” he rumbles as he wonders over to a wall solely made of shelves and full of books.
Clicking the door shut, I stand awkwardly as he peruses the shelves and I take a moment to observe the office.
It’s not small. The wall to the right is also completely covered in shelves with books and other things filling it.
His desk is set before that facing the room and the other wall full of books where he’s still looking through.