Chapter 37 #4
“Your potential, your untapped power… it made my demon blood sing. You got under my skin from the start, even before... this.” He briefly glances at his transformed self.
“Back when I was just the human version of me, pretending to be your drill sergeant or whatever bullshit role I was playing to keep my cover.”
I swallow hard, my hands still pressed against his chest, feeling the thunderous beat of his heart—or whatever demonic equivalent pounds beneath his skin. “Under your skin how? Be specific. I’m a researcher; I need details.”
A low, frustrated growl rumbles from him, but he doesn't pull away.
If anything, he holds me closer. “It started with the way you'd snap back at me during training, calling out my bullshit without a second thought,” he admits, voice rough.
“That smart tongue of yours. It drove me crazy—in the best way.
Made me want to push you harder, just to see that fire spark in your eyes…
You think you're the lesser Salem sister? That's a lie, Brynn. One I encouraged only to keep my cover. You’ve no idea of the fire that lives in you.”
His claws flex against my waist, enough to send another jolt through me, like he's anchoring himself to the words as much as to me.
“And there’s the contradiction,” he continues slowly.
“The way you walk into a room like you don’t belong in it—and then you dismantle everything inside it without even raising your voice…
You act like you’re small, but nothing about you is small.
Not the way you think. Not the way you hold your ground.
Not the way you look at things everyone else avoids and decide to understand them instead. ”
There’s a beat of tense silence, and his gaze doesn’t leave mine.
“I’ve spent years around people who want power, who reach for it, who reshape themselves to get it,” he says. “You don’t. You almost pretend you don’t have any. Sometimes, you hide it so well you almost believe it yourself.” His jaw tightens. “But I see it. Every time.”
“You talk a lot about power,” I murmur.
“Power reveals people,” he replies. “It’s a good gauge of personality. But with you, it's secondary.”
Something tugs at my mouth. “Elaborate.”
He draws a slow breath. “Back row of the lecture hall. Everyone else scribbling notes, but you—glasses sliding down, that little cynical twist to your lips. I could practically hear your thoughts: 'Inefficient methodology. Outdated theory. And this professor? Complete jackass.'”
I snort. “I’ve never thought that about a professor, at least not outside of combat… And you’re easily impressed.”
A beat.
“Not really.”
I gaze at him, my breath still tangled somewhere in my throat, as Chad's expression shifts—the playful spark dying out as something more serious, more intense settles in its place.
His confession hangs there, and my mind reels, trying to process it all—months? He's been into me for months? The same Chad who spent half our training sessions barking orders like I was his personal project, who sat across from me during my research sessions with that unreadable look.
Chad Valgrave has feelings for me. Not just demon-instinct feelings. Real ones?
I... I’m not sure what to do with that.
My brain scrambles to process, continuing to catalog evidence I've somehow missed. All those times he hovered nearby in the library, criticizing me for something or other. The way he’d appear in the lunch hall around the same time as me, though often didn’t sit with me.
The way he’d find a way to bump into me before I went to bed, to remind me he’d be seeing me early the next morning.
I'm supposed to be observant. I read ancient texts and decipher forgotten languages for fun. How did I miss this?
“You look like you're thinking too hard,” Chad murmurs, his voice rumbling through me like a low thunder.
I swallow, trying to find my voice. “That's kind of my thing.”
“Well would you say something?” he asks, and there's a vulnerability in his burning eyes that makes my heart skip.
What am I supposed to say? That I'm terrible at this?
That relationships have always been theoretical concepts I studied from a safe distance, like particularly dangerous magical artifacts?
That the idea of someone wanting me—not Esme, not the Salem legacy, but me—feels like a translation error I need to double-check?
Or that beneath all my supposed academic focus, I've noticed him too? The solid presence that somehow always steadied me. The way his rare smiles would catch me off-guard, making my stomach do a strange little flip. I’ve always found him physically…
acceptable, yes. But did I, sometimes, find excuses to argue with him just to keep him talking?
“I don't know what this is,” I finally admit, my voice small and honest in a way I rarely allow. “I don't really do... feelings. Not well, anyway.”
His massive chest rises and falls with a deep breath. “Neither do I.”
“And you're currently a ten-foot demon with horns.”
“There's that.”
“And there's an ancient spirit trying to take over my brain.”
“Also true.”
“And my coven has apparently turned into a cult while I was away.”
“Not ideal timing,” he agrees.
“Not ideal,” I whisper, my voice catching as his massive thigh shifts, sending a spark of friction through me that makes my toes curl inside my boots.
He gradually lowers my body, until my feet are touching the ground again.
I stare up at him. “But then… I’ve always found the most interesting things in the most inconvenient places. ”
“That’s the problem,” he rasps, and he looks like he’s struggling again—with the distance he just created between us, to keep control of himself.
“This is all… far more than inconvenient.
If I let my demon take the wheel... Brynn, I could hurt you.
Badly. I told you, the… fixation is more than…
attraction. It's possession. Literal, soul-deep claiming.”
His thumb reaches for my lower lip again, dragging down harder this time, and the slight sting of his claw sends a frantic, dizzying rush of adrenaline through my system.
I should be finally taking the hint and backing the hell away.
But instead, I find myself tilting my head back, exposing the line of my throat to him.
“I don't want to risk this with you.” He breathes harshly, heavily, like every word—every ounce of restraint—costs him.
I open my mouth to respond, but the words die as he takes my throat as an open invitation and nuzzles the sensitive skin beneath my ear, his fangs grazing the surface, pressing just enough to send a bolt of liquid heat straight through me.
My body betrays me instantly, arching into him without permission, every nerve ending igniting like he's flipped some forbidden switch.
It's overwhelming—this rush of sensation pooling low in my belly, making my breath come in short, sharp gasps. I’m terrified, knowing he could snap my neck with a twitch, but the fear only sharpens the thrill and I feel drunk on the intoxicating promise of what he might do next.
Will he bite me? Is that what I want?
My hands are already answering that question, grasping the rough ridges of his skin, pulling him closer despite the knot of fear in my chest. The contradiction leaving me dizzy, wanting, lost—
“Baal-liah, watch out!”
A sudden crack of power splits the air. Chad's head snaps up with a snarl, his body shielding mine as a wave of cold, shadowy energy surges from the trees.
More junior darkblood students—but dozens of them this time, their eyes swirling with that inky Ide possession—burst through the trees, their forms blurring with unnatural speed.
Before I can even process it, tendrils of dark magic lash out, wrapping around Chad's massive arms and throwing him backward with bone-crushing force—while I’m thrown to the ground, gasping at his sudden absence.
“Brynn,” Chad roars, lunging forward, but a barrier of shimmering Ide-energy erupts between us. He slams into it, his claws sparking against the barrier, but the shield holds.
“Brynn Salem requires assistance!” Olivia announces. “Her resistance endangers herself and others!”
“No. Shit!”
The next thing I feel is a sharp, stinging on my right arm, and I look up to see… a tall, dark figure, shrouded in shadow, standing over me, clutching a needle containing a viscous black substance.
Then my vision swims with darkness, and even Chad’s roar fades into the void.