Chapter 15
GREY
“This is considered stalking,” Lyra screamed from across the courtyard. The students within earshot looked eager to see the drama unfold. Lyra’s lips formed a thin line; her yelling immediately ceased when she noticed the unwanted attention.
I closed the distance between us in a few long strides and draped my arm around her shoulders, trapping her tiny frame against my body.
The book. You came to see if she found the book.
“Please, I’m begging—”
“You never have to beg with me. Unless...” She looked up in horror and then jabbed a finger between my ribs. A raspy laugh tore from my throat, the sound so unfamiliar to my ears. “So…the book?”
“It’s—”
I didn’t give her a chance to continue. “Where is it?” I gripped her arm, turning her to face me.
Those beautiful pouty lips and hazel eyes caused my breath to falter.
Her scent and those curves made it hard—made me hard.
For fuck’s sake. I was a centuries-old demon, not some stupid frat boy who couldn’t keep it in his pants.
“It’s in Mr. Whitethorn’s study.”
“And you didn’t grab it?”
“No, because if I’d taken it, he’d have known it was me,” she gritted out, wrenching her arm free. “But don’t worry, I have a plan.”
The way she said it didn’t inspire much confidence. “Tell me more about this so-called plan.”
She didn’t respond, only continued forward through the college courtyard.
The campus stank of sexual desire. I could smell the lust all over these hormonal nerds and jocks.
Booths lined the open courtyard on both sides, and students badgered their peers to join different cults. Clubs. I meant clubs.
My gaze drifted to the three blondes in short skirts standing at a table, handing out flyers for an upcoming event. I took one and winked, earning a shy giggle from the group.
“Are you in one of these things?” I asked Lyra, shoving the paper in her face.
“A sorority?” She huffed out a laugh. “No, I can barely function as it is. I have zero time for extracurricular activities. I actually have negative time to get all my shit done.” She stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact with the other students.
She sped up her pace, uncaring that I fell a few paces behind.
For having such little legs, she moved pretty damn quickly.
The ivy-covered walls and old stone buildings turned to concrete ones the further we got from campus.
Dense waterlogged clouds loomed above the town as Lyra stopped in front of a white building with a black and white striped awning.
Fran’s Bakery was written in big black letters on the front of the store.
“A bakery?” I questioned. How else was the witch going to waste my time?
“I need to pick up a few things for tonight,” she said, pulling hard on the door. It didn’t open.
“Try pushing.”
“Thanks, I don’t think I would have tried that next.”
Lyra pushed the door, leaning against the glass to hold it open for a group of rowdy guys all dressed like they were about to embark on their daddy’s yacht. They held small white boxes and nodded to Lyra in thanks, continuing to make a ruckus as they walked down the street.
The black and white checkered tile inside made it look like the patrons were playing a life-size game of chess, moving around the game board as they made their way through the line. There wasn’t much to the place, only a few tables and two glass cases at the front by the register.
“They have the best desserts in all of Inglewood.” Lyra’s eyes lit up as she spoke.
“Hi, honey,” the elderly woman behind the counter greeted her with a welcoming smile.
“Fran, I have a huge order. Please forgive me.”
The gray-haired woman pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her crooked nose. She must have been the owner, based on the name of the bakery.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head. I spoke with Kenna on the phone earlier, and she warned me about the order.”
“Great!” Lyra exclaimed as she examined the display cases. She leaned closer, looking like she was about to lick the glass by the way she salivated over the sweets.
Fran, got ready to scribble down the order on a notepad. “I’m ready whenever you are, honey.”
“Okay… I’ll take a dozen of the apple tarts, three dozen chocolate chip cookies, two dozen vanilla cupcakes, and a dozen chocolate cupcakes.” Lyra ticked off the order on her fingers.
“I’ll also add some of those apple cider donuts you love so much,” Fran said, continuing to write.
Lyra must be a regular.
“Ah, thank you, Franny.”
“What about your friend over there?” She pointed an arthritis riddled finger in my direction.
“Do you want anything?” Lyra asked, prying her attention away from the display. “Because you’re not touching any of mine.”
“No,” I said curtly. “Thanks,” I added with a slight shake of my head.
“All right, this will take a little bit for me to package up. I started working on it this morning, but give me an hour or two, and everything should be ready.”
Lyra dug through her purse, pulled out a small black wallet and handed over a credit card.
“Sorry,” Lyra mouthed to the person behind us who impatiently tapped her foot as we finished up.
“Any more errands you want to waste my time with?” I let the door slam shut as we walked out of the store.
The sidewalk was slick with rain, and water dripped from the awning overhead.
We must have just missed the rain. I looked at the sky, where the clouds had slightly dissipated, and the sun started to peek through.
“Well…” She contemplated the question, rubbing her chin like she was deep in thought. “Now that you mention it, I do need to drop a few items off at the dry cleaners.”
“Lyra,” I growled in frustration. And fuck, did I like saying her name like that when she was being a brat.
“It’s all part of the plan.” She repeated her earlier sentiment with a sigh.
“You mean the plan you refuse to tell me about? The plan that doesn’t—"
“Do you own a suit?” she cut me off.
“Yes,” I answered caught off guard by her random question.
“Does it look expensive?” she pushed.
“I have a nice suit,” I said defensively.
“Okay, good. Cause we’re going to steal the spellbook tonight.”
The old grandfather clock chimed eight times. Lyra was late. I blended into the shadows, watching extravagantly dressed guests in gowns and suits enter the Whitethorn’s “humble abode.” Humans were vain and prideful. None of this shit mattered in the afterlife.
I flexed my fingers in a feeble attempt to keep the rage from surfacing. But the longer I waited for Lyra, the stronger the itch to burn this place to the ground became. I pulled a lighter from my pocket and watched the flame spark to life.
Was Devin powerful enough to save his house before it burned to ash?
A hypnotic laugh drifted from the entrance, and my thumb slipped from the lighter.
I quickly pocketed it, keeping to the shadows.
The crowd parted as Lyra and her little posse made their way inside.
She was carrying the pastry boxes we’d picked up earlier and handed them over to the wait staff with a blinding smile as she entered the room.
One of the guys in the group looked like he wanted to be here less than I did, and I’d spent the past couple of months being tortured in the basement.
The slit in Lyra’s green dress traveled impossibly high, exposing more of her thigh with each step.
I couldn’t stop myself from staring. Tracking her every movement. One by one her friends dropped off, until finally she was alone.
I silently approached and tugged her into a dark corner.
“You sure know how to keep a guy waiting,” I said, pinning her body against the wall, using my large frame to shield us from prying eyes.
“Grey,” she said drawing in a heavy breath.
It took every ounce of self-control to keep my hands to myself.
“Now, where can I find that book?” I murmured, leaning in just enough so she could hear me over the conversations happening around us.
“It’s in his—” She paused, eyes going wide, “study at the back of the house.” She rushed the words out.
My gaze followed Lyra’s, landing on Devin. A spark of lightning tingled in my fingertips, electricity humming beneath my skin. I shut my eyes, trying to fight off the dizziness and reel myself back in. The collar hummed to life, letting me know I was dangerously close to losing control.
“Grey.” Lyra’s voice broke through the static. “Hey, look at me.” But I didn’t dare open my eyes. Not yet. They would be black as death.
She placed her hands on either side of my face, tenderly rubbing the pads of her thumbs over my cheeks.
“Please,” she coaxed.
I inhaled deeply, opening my eyes as I exhaled.
“Oh…” she breathed out.
Repulsive. Disgusting. Grotesque. The words from past lovers filled my mind, and I waited for Lyra to say the same as we locked eyes. Both our gaze’s unflinching.
“They’re mesmerizing,” she said at last, her voice barely audible. “Terrifyingly beautiful, I can’t look away.”
“You look ethereal.” The words tumbled from my mouth before I could think better.
“Thanks. The dress has pockets,” she said, shoving her hands into them to demonstrate how they worked. I couldn’t help but grin at her inability to accept a compliment. Lyra’s cheeks were flushed and I could see the slight spatter of freckles over her nose and cheeks.
“The book?” I took pity on her and changed the subject.
“Oh, yeah, the book. It should be in his study on the desk. Just down the hallway and the last door on the left.” She pointed in that general direction. “And Grey, don’t get caught.”
“Is that worry for me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I worry about everything.” She stepped from the shadows, but said over her shoulder, “be careful.”
Lyra effortlessly fell into conversation with the group of people nearby. Thankful for the distraction, I kept my head down and made my way through the crowd. Careful to keep off Devin’s radar.
The doors of the study were locked, but my clawed fingers made quick work of it.
I pushed open the doors. Anticipation hummed over my skin.
There was no lingering scent of Devin’s magic, so I took a tentative step inside, praying the book was there.
I leaned forward, placing both hands on the desk to get a better look.
The gold initials on the cover were unmistakable.
A flicker of hope ignited in my gut. With the book, there was a real chance I could finally remove the collar. I reached for it, but my hands wouldn’t move. It was like they were frozen, held in place by some invisible force.
Shit. The desk was spelled. No matter how hard I yanked, neither hand budged. No wonder Devin had so recklessly left the spellbook out in the open.
I was a fucking idiot. I walked right into his trap, and Devin had known just what bait to use.
I looked around for anything useful. There was a stack of books, papers, and a few framed photos but nothing to help me escape.
My chest tightened at the photo of a familiar blonde girl hugging Devin. Lyra’s best friend was Devin’s daughter.
Lyra had wanted me to come here to steal the book. The witch had set me up.