Chapter 18
Makes Me Wonder
IRIS
How a man so lethal can possibly be so ridiculous, I don’t know. But every time I think he can’t get any more outrageous, Elliot somehow manages to one-up himself.
From the steps of Trinity Hall, where I sit, I watch Elliot barrel through the courtyard below, barking at the crowd to move out of his way. Of course, most of them do, because who would ever dare cross Elliot Cross, but for those who don’t, he serves them a generous shoulder and a heated stare.
He’s not angry, though. I can see his tail wagging from here, so I’m not sure what to expect as he rushes up the steps, taking them in twos.
I stand on instinct, and he nearly crashes into me as he wraps his arms around my waist and lifts my feet from the floor.
“Ah! Elliot!” I squeal while he spins.
“He’s a demon,” he says, pressing a big kiss on the side of my cheek.
He’s getting awfully comfortable with that lately.
“What?” I ask, trying and failing to pry myself out of his grip.
In answer, he kisses the other cheek, evening them out, and spins me one more time.
“He’s a demon,” he repeats, finally setting me back on the ground.
I reach my hand out to feel his forehead.
“Have you lost your mind?” I ask.
“Nope,” he says, smiling like a maniac.
He takes my bag, shouldering it himself as he laces our fingers together to lead me in the direction of Crescent House.
“Our friend,” he whispers. “He’s a demon.”
“How do you know that?”
“Dred. He could taste his blood in the air.”
My eyes go wide as he explains Bloodsoe’s shadow walk, but the excitement quickly wears off as I remind him, “Demons aren’t allowed to enroll at Highcrest.”
Elliot shakes his head.
“They are if they’re half-bloods or less,” he corrects.
“That could be anyone. How are we supposed to know who’s a half-blood and who isn’t? It’s not like they advertise it.”
Elliot shrugs.
“I haven’t figured that part out yet,” he says. “But if I know what I’m looking for, I can find it. I will find it.”
Elliot’s surety gives me little comfort. It’s not that I don’t have faith in him; I’m sure we will find our mystery person eventually. Right now, I’m more concerned with what happens after.
From the look in his eyes and the tension in his back, I don’t think mere words will suffice, and he has a tendency to be reckless. But I don’t want him risking himself for me any more than he already has.
I decided weeks ago that when the time comes, I will handle it myself and accept whatever punishment comes with it. I only hope he will not stand in my way.
As we climb the steps to Crescent House, my phone rings, and we both stop mid-stride to watch the simple, bold text scroll across the screen. It reads “UNKNOWN.”
I don’t answer it. I never do. I simply wait until the vibrating stops, at which point I have to resist the urge to throw the stupid thing into the bushes.
“How many times?” Elliot asks, voice grim.
“Eight,” I say.
“This week?”
“Tonight.”
His jaw clenches, teeth grinding as his tail stiffens, but he doesn’t say anything as we enter the house. Though he does grip my hand a little tighter when we pass through the foyer, too conscious of the many wandering eyes.
I don’t blame him. It’s busier than usual for a Thursday night.
Not nearly as busy as Fright Night, but enough people are milling about that the house is loud.
The speakers have been hauled out, and one of the third-years is playing DJ in the lower den.
He keeps the vibe low, warm, and inviting, giving people enough space to laugh and talk without the music drowning them out.
I recognize a few of the mates I’ve seen frequenting the house, and they all wave politely as we continue up the stairs, heading for the ranked floor.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “I thought Fright Night was canceled this month. Dame said he didn’t want to give the inquisition an excuse to nosy around.”
“It is. There’s a howl tonight,” Elliot answers without looking back.
“A what?”
“A howl. It’s like a bonfire. Pack only. We usually do it right before the moon.”
“Oh.”
I don’t ask any more questions as we climb the steps, though I do start to wonder what ‘pack only’ means when I spot a few claimed partners wandering through the halls.
It appears someone, probably Elliot, has cleaned the man cave. The drink stains are notably absent from the coffee table, and it now smells less like Dame and more like him. Which I’m grateful for as the near constant buzzing in my chest quiets the moment the door closes behind us.
Elliot sets my things on the couch, and an ear-splitting grin takes over his face as he spots the little green book peeking out from the top of my bag.
“Should I be looking at leashes?” he asks, holding the book up for me to see.
He thumbs the bookmark I have placed, nearly three-fourths of the way through.
I would be further along if it weren’t for the fact that the second act was so sad.
I had to set it aside for a couple of weeks just to collect myself.
But I’m back in the thick of it now, and unfortunately for me, I do love it.
But that doesn’t mean Elliot needs to know that.
“Maybe,” I say, smirking at him the way he does me.
But he knows me too well to fall for it.
“Yeah, right, you little monster. You know you love it.”
I flinch at his words.
“Don’t call me that.”
“What?”
“Don’t call me a monster,” I repeat.
He smiles, mistaking my statement for part of our little game.
“Alright, we’ll stick with baby. I like that more anyway.”
He reaches for me, and I back away, retreating until my ass bumps into the desk.
“I’m serious, Elliot. It’s not funny.”
His head cocks at the sudden shift in my tone, and his ears flatten as he registers the solemn look on my face. Still, it takes a moment for his smile to fade.
“Iris,” he says softly, shaking his head. “You know I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Yes, I know that. But I also know he’s right. And even though the words are true, I cannot bear to hear them. Not from him, anyway.
“I’m fine, Elliot.”
“Iris, if you don’t stop saying that, someone in this house is going to get hurt.”
“Why would someone get hurt?”
“Because every time you lie, and say you’re fine, the fact that I can’t fix it, makes me want to break things.”
My eyes roll.
“I don’t need you to solve all my problems, Elliot. I can take care of myself.”
“I know that,” he hisses. “But I’d really rather you didn’t.”
“Oh, gods, here we go again with your wolf bullshit. What, are you gonna pee on me next?”
“Nah, I’ve never been into that kind of thing.”
My face runs slack, and Elliot groans as he realizes his usual teasing tactics aren’t working.
“Oh, come on, princess, don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I say, arms crossed.
“Like you want to kill me. It only makes me want to fuck you.” He grimaces, pulling at that stupid choker he seems to hate but never takes off. “You’re so gorgeous when you’re mad, and you expect me to just stand here? You’re asking for too much.”
Heat rises in my chest, and I face the wall, unable to keep looking at him, but Elliot, persistent as always, follows. His arms come around me, pressing the evidence of his honesty into my ass, and causing the deep heat to sink lower.
I’ve received a lot of compliments in my life, more than I could count, from men and women of every kind. But never have I received one quite like that.
“Elliot, please, you know—”
“I know…” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I’m not asking. I’m just saying, go easy on me.”
He brushes a knuckle down the back of my arm in an effort to soften me, and when that doesn’t work, he rests his chin in the curve of my neck, hugging me from behind.
The simple gesture feels far too intimate for our arrangement.
I can feel his heart thumping against my back, and his breath tickling my throat as he sniffs me. But the weight of his arms feels nice, and the heat settling in my chest is too intoxicating to pull away from, so I don’t.
“Iris,” Elliot mutters, drumming his fingers across my stomach. “Is this turning you on?”
“No,” I say, too quickly to be casual.
It doesn’t matter, though. We both know it’s a lie. My whole body is warm, and I can feel my arousal collecting in my underwear, but Elliot takes it upon himself to test my conviction.
He slips his hand into my top, cupping my bare breast, where he finds my nipple rock hard, and a quiet whimper escapes me as he squeezes.
“You like it when I hold you like this?” he asks.
I shake my head and welcome my punishment as he squeezes harder.
“More lies from that pretty mouth.”
Elliot circles the tender nub with his thumb, growling in my ear as his free hand grips my thighs. He drags my skirt up to my hips, and my breath hitches when his palm presses against my pussy.
“Bend over and spread your legs,” he demands.
“What?”
His fingers dig into my hip as he grows frustrated with my questions.
“Iris.” His deep voice rumbles in his chest. “Have I ever told you to do something you regretted?”
There was that one time he lured me into his bedroom to force me into being his girlfriend. But I wouldn’t say I regret it.
Resent? Maybe. But regret?
“No,” I say, softer than I intend.
In response, Elliot hums in my ear, a deep, satisfied sound.
“Then be good for me, and do as you’re told.”
His hand is already pressing into my back, bending me forward onto the desk, and the tingling heat moves to my arms and legs as I obey. The cool surface feels good on my skin, and I cling to the edge of the wood as Elliot’s hands begin to wander.
He flips my skirt up, baring my ass and hooking a finger in the waistband of my panties.
“Can I take these?” he asks.
I nod, eyes shut and wanting, and he drags the fabric down my legs, leaving them stretched tight around my ankles as he trails his fingers back up my calves. He finds my arousal already coating my thighs, and my pussy pulses as he runs his fingers through my wetness.