Chapter 32
I’ve never felt much like a sexual being.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy sex. It’s fine, I guess.
A fine way to end a date, to know someone cares for you in physical, tangible way.
We all know words from boys under the age of twenty-five are worth about as much as an expired nail salon coupon—most likely useless, but could surprise you on the rare occasion.
And even then, I’m not much of a words gal.
I’m a fan of action, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess why.
But just because I’ve felt desire doesn’t mean I’ve ever seen myself as very desirable.
Mostly I’ve spent my whole life thinking I’m too tall, too flat-chested, my teeth too big, my black hair too harsh a contrast against my too-pale skin, my eyes too gray when I wish them blue.
And that’s before picking apart my personality.
The way so few people get my sense of humor compared to someone like Sophia, who’s so often followed by a cloud of chuckling admirers desperate to be in her orbit.
How rarely people call me warm or comforting the way they do Penny.
How unambitious I am compared to Nora or my mother…
And yet, my brain blares through loudspeakers—tonight I am hot as hell.
Terrible pun intended. This costume must have been handsewn by the slutty Halloween gods.
Not that the gods themselves are slutty, though perhaps they are.
That’s their prerogative. And tonight, those are the kinds of gods I worship.
The gods who bespelled Sophia to force me at arrowpoint into wearing false eyelashes and putting sparkling red glitter on my cheeks and the bridge of my nose.
The ones who sent me the last pair of red vinyl platform Mary Janes that were on sale (no, even on the sacred scantily clad holiday that is Halloween, hunters still do not wear pointy heels).
“You look like a demon’s wet dream.”
I roll my eyes as I finish blow-drying my hair, but honestly I agree. Even if they worship a High Thane and not an actual devil, there’s probably something to the iconic red-horned, barbed-tail look that demons associate with their homeland.
“Any particular demon you’re hoping to send to bed tonight with dirty thoughts?”
“I have a boyfriend,” I tell Sophia as she applies wine-colored lipstick. “Who you are meeting in an hour.”
“And I am so looking forward to making the acquaintance of Mr. James Pine.”
I knew I would regret this. I’ve kept my worlds separate for so long. How could I have let one successful Halloween-shopping outing convince me this was a good idea? “Don’t be weird. Not with James. He doesn’t get weird.”
“That sounds like imprisonment.”
“He’s just a serious guy. Please?”
Sophia stands and grabs her purse. She’s in the Medusa bikini and snake wig, with heeled boots and a gauzy emerald-green skirt that flutters when she walks.
Glitter shines off her skin. Thick winged eyeliner accentuates her already dramatic silent-film-star eyes.
“I’m going to go find Elliot. Meet at the gateway? ”
“Sure. You look wet-dream-worthy too, by the way.”
She beams wickedly at me. “I know.”
When I’m alone, I stare at my reflection and think about what she said. About demons and devils and wet dreams. My cheeks flush when brown curls and groans of pleasure fill my mind. Bad news.
Maybe it’s this costume. Or the mischievous thrill of Halloween night…
Okay, I’m grasping at straws here. But it could be that James and I haven’t slept together in so long. Not since I enrolled here, actually.
Things have only been worse with him since the strzyga. Perhaps we just need to spice things up. What would Sophia do? Probably show up without underwear and shove them in James’s mouth.
My hand halts on the blow-dryer handle.
That’s not a bad idea, actually. The first part at least. Before I can talk myself out of it, I slip my nude underwear down my legs and toss them into the hamper in our closet.
There. I’m fun. I’m girlfriend material.
The slutty Halloween gods have been appeased.
When I finish blow-drying my hair and go to grab my purse, my inner thighs rub against my sex, and I wince. Maybe this is dumb. We’ll be in Astera tonight. What if I have to hunt? I’m going to attack a demon in a silk minidress and no panties? Ridiculous.
I’m halfway to the hamper to retrieve my underwear in shame when a knock sounds at the door.
I swing it open, already laughing at Sophia’s reaction when I tell her how the devil costume ate my brain, and come face-to-face—or face-to-chest, because he’s so damn tall—with Reid.
The look in his eyes as he drinks me in is knee-weakening.
It’s the image you’d find if you looked up turned on in the dictionary.
It makes me clench all over, but mostly between my legs.
I’ve never been certain if demons can actually scent things like fear and arousal—it’s not like I’m taking Demon Anatomy this semester—but some corner of my mind knows the answer when Reid sees my legs pinch together and his hand shoots to the doorframe.
The wood groans under the force of his grasp.
I’m making a very similar noise in my head.
“You wore red…” His words are barely audible.
I swallow hard as I think of scarlet-scaled claws. “Happy Halloween.”
“That it is,” he replies. His eyes have not left my body.
Someone down the hall opens their door, and pop music swims out.
“What’s up?” I manage.
Reid’s hand abandons the doorframe, and I notice the wood has splintered in its wake. He pulls a paper out of his back pocket. “I, uh…” He clears his throat. “I spoke with one of our alumni stationed in Brazil. She’s been hunting with Kitty.”
That clears the attraction mist from my vision. “No way. Come in.”
He looks hesitant. Like he doesn’t quite trust himself around me right now. It should frighten me, that look, but I’m too greedy for more of the sexual torment swimming in his eyes. It’s very aeon of me.
I usher him inside, closing the door behind us.
Only then do I notice the state of our dorm room: Sophia’s Maleficent horns from last Halloween on the desk, makeup bags stuffed with products gaping open, glitter dusting the hardwood.
There’s even a pair of butterfly wings poking out of the hamper, which I’m pretty sure aren’t from anything Halloween-related. I feel a stab of embarrassment.
“What is that?” I ask him, kicking some of Sophia’s clothes under her bed.
He hands the paper to me, still standing a bit farther away than necessary. “I printed the email exchange. Figured you’d want to see. Seems like she’s safe, at least.”
I flip through the emails as he speaks. The hunter confirms everything Kitty said in her note to Peter. The academic pressure got to her. She wanted to see the world. She wasn’t sure about the way Harker taught hunting.
Relief sails through me. “So she’s fine.”
“Yeah.” Reid sits down on my bed.
“Just like her letter said.”
“Wait, Kitty left a letter? You told me she went missing.”
“She did, the letter was weird…It was worth looking into. I promise.” I drop the emails on the desk and take a seat next to Reid. “Any luck finding the garden?”
“What do you mean? Doesn’t this—”
“Even if Kitty has nothing to do with it, someone still took the blade from the armory—”
“The Aeon’s Dagger,” Reid supplies.
“—and tried to cover it up with her name. And…”
Reid stiffens. “And what?”
“There might have been a deviant in my apartment last weekend.”
His nostrils flare, jaw tensing. “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”
“Why would I have? It’s Astera; they’re everywhere. I may have just been having a bad dream. But if someone knows we’re looking into this…if someone wants to stop us…it means we have to find that garden before they do.”
Reid sighs, his eyes lingering on the hem of my dress and my pale, bare thighs. “I haven’t had any luck tracking down the location yet.” His voice is a little raw. “You don’t want me to talk to Lisette, and I doubt Driscoll would allow a demon, even me, to—”
But I remember how Driscoll stood up for Reid that day after Crowley’s class. “You should try with Dean Driscoll. People’s lives could be in danger. He trusts you.”
Reid’s eyes meet mine, and I am suddenly very aware of our proximity. I wonder if he can smell my vanilla shampoo. “Okay,” he relents. “Okay.”
“You two are close, right?”
Reid weighs the question. “He found me at my worst. Brought me here. I owe him a lot.”
I guess I do too. I’m already leaning in when I realize I’m going to hug him. I catch a wary expression on his face, but he allows me to wrap my arms around his neck anyway. “Thank you, Reid. For helping me.”
The hug is a mistake. Now I can investigate that zingy lemongrass scent—bodywash, I think—and the masculine evergreen.
A bit of laundry detergent. And I can feel the hard planes of his back muscles under my hands, neck muscles against my cheek, pec muscles against my breasts…
Everything is like granite. And everything is wound tight as a bow.
He is not hugging me back.
In fact, he isn’t breathing.
I release him and look anywhere but his eyes. “Really, thanks.”
“So…” Reid’s register is a little husky. He stands, stuffing his fists in his pockets, averting his eyes from mine. “Where are you off to tonight? Lacrosse team parties?”
“Actually, we’re going into Astera.”
“All dressed up for your pet.” But the barb is lacking his usual snark. He sounds kind of sad. I wonder if he gets as lonely as I do. Or did, before he brought me here.
“Do you want to come?”
Reid looks at me like I’ve suggested he shave my head. “What? Why?”
“For fun, Reid. Has nobody told you about fun?”
He makes a face, but I can see interest sparking in those stormy blues. Which are extra blue and extra stormy on this strangely triumphant Halloween night. “I’m not sure that’s appropriate, as your instructor.”
“Come on,” I cajole. “We won’t tattle.”
“You mean your gaggle of hunter buds?”
“You know who my buds are?”
“I see who you sit with in Combat Training. The nerd, the jock, and the sl—”
“Don’t,” I tell him sternly. “Not when we’re just becoming friends.”
“Slob, huntress. I was going to say slob.”
Reid and I both take in the state of the dorm, and I can’t help my laugh. “How do you know I’m not the messy one?”
He studies me quietly before saying, “I think you like everything to be in its right place.”
“What gave me away?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice.
“Finding control wherever you can get it? Takes one to know one.”
To change the subject from the fact that Reid’s words have stripped me bare more intimately than anything I’ve done with my own boyfriend in months, I say, “If you’re going to come, you’ll need a costume.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t have one.”
Is that a yes? Is Reid Graveheart agreeing to hang out with me on a weekend?
Maybe he isn’t lonely at all. Maybe he just wants to spend time with me.
The thought is a dose of pure, shimmering dopamine.
“You could just rock your own horns and tail.” I gesture to my headpiece and try to quell the giddiness low in my stomach.
“Legend, remember?”
“Sure it is.” I scope the room for inspiration, then have a stroke of genius. “Do you trust me?”
“Do I have a choice?”