Chapter 2 Allie
ALLIE
Ipretty much melted as Jared kissed me slowly and thoroughly, like we had all the time in the world. Which, I suppose, he did.
His lips moved on mine, his tongue teasing, soft and sure and sweet. And for once, I wasn’t thinking about demons or my strange new life. This was notable because I was almost always thinking about demons. More specifically, about demons and me and prophecies and freaky occult stuff.
All an occupational hazard of being the girl who closed the gates to Hell.
The engineered product of a demonic and human bloodline.
The Chosen One who prophecies talk about in that ominous, capital-letter way that made me sound like a comic book character instead of an almost seventeen-year-old who still couldn’t manage to parallel park.
But right now, at two in the morning with the mansion quiet around us and Jared’s tongue teasing mine as his hands slid under the hem of my t-shirt, demons were the absolute last thing I cared about.
His fingers traced up, moving over my ribs, his skin cool against mine. His body temperature ran a few degrees lower than human, which, honestly, was kind of nice on warm California nights. I arched into him, deepening the kiss, and felt him smile against my lips.
“You really should be sleeping,” he murmured.
“You really should be letting me sleep.” I pulled back just enough to look at him.
In the dim moonlight filtering through my blinds, his features were all sharp angles and shadows—high cheekbones, a deliciously sexy jaw line, and dark hair that fell across his forehead in a way that made my fingers itch to push it back.
He had the kind of face that belonged in a black-and-white photograph, timeless and a little bit devastating.
“You started it,” he said, the tease clear in his voice.
“I absolutely did not.”
“Trust me,” he said. “You did. You rolled over and put your leg across mine.” His hand settled on my hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles through the thin cotton of my sleep shorts. “That’s starting it.”
“That’s called getting comfortable.”
“That’s called starting it.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. My jaw. The spot just below my ear that made my breath catch and my toes curl. “I’ve been alive—well, more or less—for almost a hundred and thirty years. I know when someone’s starting something.”
I laughed despite myself. “Okay, grandpa. Tell me more about the olden days.”
He nipped at my earlobe—gentle, no fangs—and I squirmed against him. “Respect your elders.”
“You look seventeen.”
“I was almost eighteen when I was turned, thank you very much. And I can pass for all the way into my twenties. Maybe higher if I dye my temples gray.”
He stretched out, then propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at me with those dark eyes that have witnessed more than a century.
His expression managed to be both ancient and boyish at the same time—the weight of a hundred-plus years softened by a crooked smile that still made my stomach flip.
I leaned in, then brushed my lips over his.
He flashed that grin I love—and that my best friend Mindy calls movie star devastating.
“I’ll have you know that in my day, a young lady would never be so forward.”
“In your day, a young lady would have been married off at sixteen to some guy with a good cow.”
“That’s a gross oversimplification of nineteenth-century courtship rituals.”
“But not entirely wrong?”
“Not entirely.” He ran his finger through my recently highlighted brown hair, long enough now that it falls almost to my breasts.
I should have cut it by now—there’s nothing more annoying than a demon who’s a hair-puller in a fight.
But Jared likes it long. And I liked the way he was playing with it now, letting the strands slide between his fingers like he’s soaking up the sensation.
“And yes,” he said, clearly fighting a grin. “Cows were definitely a factor.”
“I love it when I win,” I said, pulling him to me.
In one smooth motion, he shifted, straddling my legs and leaning forward, and this time the kiss was slower, deeper, the kind of kiss that made time go soft around the edges.
His hand slid from my waist to my breasts, his fingers cupping them, and I made a sound I probably should have been embarrassed about.
We’d been doing this for a while now—Jared spending nights in my room when I couldn’t sleep, which lately was most nights. It had started innocently enough. He rarely slept. I couldn’t sleep. It made sense for him to keep me company.
But somewhere along the way, keeping company had evolved.
First, it was just talking in the dark, his voice low and steady, grounding me when my thoughts spiraled.
Then it was talking while he held me, my back against his chest, his arms wrapped around me like armor.
Then it was holding me while I fell asleep, my head rising and falling with his breathing—unnecessary breathing, but he did it anyway, just for me, just so I’d have something to ease me into sleep.
Then I’d drift off, listening to the silence where a heartbeat should have been.
Somehow, that silence had become the most comforting sound in the world.
I don’t know what finally gave me the courage—maybe it wasn’t even courage, maybe it was just need—but one night I’d lifted my head and kissed him. We’d kissed before, sure. But not in bed. Not wrapped in the intimacy of night clothes and pillows and unspoken desire.
He’d kissed me back. And it had been awesome and felt devastatingly right. So very, very right. New, but familiar, too. Like I was discovering something I already knew by heart.
And it wasn’t just that he was perfect on paper. Because, okay, yeah, he was. I mean, considering who and what I am, a normal boy probably wasn’t ever in the cards.
A normal boy wouldn’t understand why I spent my afternoons training with knives instead of studying for the SATs.
A normal boy would freak out if I told him I’d bled on an ancient stone to seal a gate between dimensions.
A normal boy would run screaming if he knew that I carried demon essence in my blood—not possessed, not controlled, just..
.tainted. Different. And powerful enough to make me the only person on the planet who could close certain doors. Or open them.
Jared didn’t run. Jared had been there when I was first trying to figure out what all of it meant—when I was terrified and overwhelmed and convinced I was going to get everyone killed.
He’d told me I was strong when I felt anything but, and somehow, coming from someone who’d survived over a century of darkness, that had meant something.
My friend first. My boyfriend second. The emphasis had always been on the friend part, even as the boyfriend part kept growing, kept wanting more.
We hadn’t gone further than this, though. Not because I didn’t want to—I definitely, definitely wanted to—but because Jared was annoyingly noble about the whole thing. Something about wanting to do things right, respecting me, blah blah blah. Very old school of him.
Also, my mother’s a Level Seven Demon Hunter who could literally kill him, and my dad’s a resurrected Demon Hunter who could also literally kill him, and even my stepdad had developed some weirdly freaky prophetic abilities that might give him advance warning of any deflowering attempts.
So, yeah. There were practical considerations about the whole relationship thing. And definitely about the sex thing.
We had the relationship. I wanted the sex.
As if he was reading my mind—which he assures me he can’t do—Jared pulled back, both of us breathing harder than necessary—well, me breathing harder, but I could tell he was as worked up as I was.
I met his eyes and saw that same desire.
For a moment, I wanted to beg, but then he settled onto his back and pulled me toward him, and good sense returned.
I curled into his side, my head finding its familiar spot on his chest. The cotton of his t-shirt was soft against my cheek, and beneath it, nothing. No heartbeat. Just stillness and the solid presence of him.
“You’re thinking again,” he said, his voice a low rumble I felt more than heard.
“How can you tell?”
“Your heartbeat. It’s doing that racing thing it does when you spiral.”
“That’s creepy.”
“That’s vampire.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, lingering there like he was breathing me in. “Talk to me.”
I stared at the ceiling. Moonlight cut across it in pale stripes through the blinds, painting silver lines on the plaster. Tomorrow—well, technically today—the new students will arrive. Three kids who’d be joining Ren and Ana and Mindy and Eliza. Three kids who’d probably heard stories about me.
“The new students,” I said. “They’ll know who I am. What I did.”
“The gate.”
“Yeah. Last year, Bruce told everyone when they first got here, and everyone at Forza knows. Now it’s become this whole legend. The girl who closed the gates of hell. Like I’m some kind of superhero.”
“You kind of are.”
“I’m really not.” I shifted so I could look at him, propping my chin on his chest. In the moonlight, his face was all planes and shadows, beautiful in a way that sometimes made it hard to breathe. “It’s just...being a teacher. Having them look at me like I have answers. What if I screw it up?”
Jared was quiet for a moment, his fingers trailing absently up and down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then he said, “You taught last year, and it went fine.”
“Hello? Do you remember last year?”
“One bad apple.” Jared shrugged. “And you handled it. Been there, done that.”
I wanted to argue, but he had a point. We’d stopped Lilith, which is saying a lot.
“I still wouldn’t call it fine,” I say. “But I get your point. Doesn’t make me less nervous.”