Atlas
Blood stains my knuckles. I thought I’d cleaned it all in the car.
Rearranging that fuckwit’s face felt so good. He’s never going to dare look at Summer again. Until I’m done with her, I won’t let anyone get in my way.
It’s been more than two hours since the lights in her room went out.
If it were another girl, she wouldn’t even be able to blink tonight.
That Succubus . . . the effortlessness with which she handled the situation makes me think nothing like that can rattle her or trigger a sleepless night.
But I’ll change that. I’ll make sure to leave a lasting impression, get under her skin, deep enough to keep her up at night, wondering how she got so lucky to bump into me.
In front of her dorm door, I press an ear to it, and the complete silence is my cue for breaking and entering the room, though I crave to be breaking and entering her.
Using the key card I got my hands on, I slink inside more silently than I thought I was capable of.
I have no idea if Summer’s a light sleeper or not, and I don’t intend to wake her up.
I want to find out everything I can about her before leaving the not-so-personal stuff for Link to dig out.
And if she’s still awake, I haven’t figured out a single excuse for being here.
Housekeeping?
Getting to her bed, I loom over her, coiled with anger at the realization that I’m indeed right in my assumptions.
She’s sleeping so peacefully, like nothing of importance happened tonight.
The urge to rob her of that calm rises inside me.
That Succubus doesn’t deserve sweet dreams when she has me all wound up, waiting like a fool for hours outside, unable to think of anything else but our fucked-up encounter and how badly I want more of the same.
I pull a strand of hair away from her face, taking in the sight before me.
It’s unfair for a demon like her to be this gorgeous.
So fuckin’ captivating that her presence commands undivided attention, and there’s nothing I can do to fight it.
No one should hold that kind of power. Yet, right now, she does over me.
It takes pure will and determination to drag my gaze from this temptation and scan her room.
No roommate, as presumed, since the record for this dorm stated only one resident—Maria Ramirez.
The information hasn’t been updated, since my demon is definitely not a Latina.
Or Summer killed that girl and is now living in her dorm. I wouldn’t put it past her.
Clean room—nothing out of order, nothing on the walls, nothing personal. Only a few chocolate bars on the desk and a laptop left open . . . with Touch ID.
Could I be that lucky?
Grabbing it, I stride back and lift her index finger in the gentlest manner I’m capable of.
Hell, gentle wasn’t even in my dictionary before this.
Yes! It unlocks. My hands itch to uncover all her secrets.
There’s a single tab open with her email, and what stands out like a porcupine amongst bunnies is her full name. Summer Night.
Seriously?!
What kind of name is that?
I scroll through her emails, and there’s nothing but communication about documents she’s translating from Italian and getting paid for.
That’s honorable. Most who study here don’t need to work.
So, two things I’ve learned—she works for her money, and she knows Italian.
How alluring would that language sound from those luscious lips of hers?
I might make her talk to me in Italian before I put her mouth to better use.
Her search history turns empty. She’s either deleted it or she’s browsing incognito. Paranoid much?!
No photos, or videos, not even chats.
Nothing.
Finding nothing is more interesting than finding something. It means the secrets are worth hiding.
My attention shifts to her phone on the nightstand.
If she wears sunglasses, the “Require Attention for Face ID” feature, which Link keeps nagging me to turn on, might be disabled. I should be able to unlock her phone using facial recognition without her eyes having to be open. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try.
Pointing the phone at her face, I’m the luckiest man on Earth when I hear the click of the unlock. Luckiest fuckin’ man who’s been fighting a hard-on for the last few hours.
I open the settings so I can obtain her number. Calling or texting her should absolutely be on the table.
Who knew taking a girl’s number like this would be way more fun?
Probably every stalker out there.
But I have no intention of stopping at that. She’ll be sharing her location with me.
Nowhere to hide from me, Succubus!
There aren’t any messaging apps other than the default one. Strange. No stranger than the fact she has only one name on her contact list—someone named Eli. Who the hell has a single contact on their phone?! Must be lonely.
Her device contains exactly twenty-nine photos, and most are of some guy with similar features to my demon.
One image stands out amongst the rest, where she’s sporting raven-black hair next to him.
Black hair or red, she’s spectacular either way.
I’m guessing she’s related to that guy, her brother maybe, given the unmistakably identical dark blue eyes, same hair color, and full lips they both share.
There’s also a single picture of another man with dark blond hair and blue eyes—the complete opposite of how I look.
If she has a certain type, she’ll have to reevaluate it for me.
I get the urge to delete that photo, but I’d feel much better if she did that because of me, so I’ll allow it to stay on her phone for a little while longer, until I’ve made my official introduction.
Summer’s messages are the next thing I check, and to my surprise, there are a lot from that Eli guy, going back many months.
Skimming through the contents of those texts, my educated guess is he’s the blond, after all.
She hasn’t replied to a single one, and I catch myself smiling.
If she hasn’t answered, he’s in her past. I’ll make sure he stays there, because after me, she won’t consider him worthy of her attention.
I shouldn’t care about her ex. I just wanna fuck her. That’s all. But with her, once won’t suffice, and after what she put me through, I’ll make sure to leave a mark on her life like she did on mine.
Pulling a chair beside her bed, I sit and start going through some of those messages.
Eli
I miss you, Mayhem!
Given what I saw in the club tonight, she’s mayhem . . . along with chaos and destruction. Too bad for her, I thrive in those.
I scroll down.
Eli
I love you! I can’t stop. You are under my skin, and there’s no escaping you.
Seems like she has a lovesick fool wrapped around her finger. Not hard to imagine that, given her looks. It would be an utter shock if it’s only one heart she carries as a trophy under her belt.
Eli
Where are you?
Did she run away from him? Did he hurt her?
My jaw clenches at the thought, but I keep reading, searching for a reason to track this guy and introduce him to the darkness of six feet underground.
Eli
Nothing you do would bring them back, but you have me. Forget the ultimatum I gave you. I can never move on. You don’t love me the way I do, but I’ll take whatever you’d give me. Just come back.
Interesting.
What happened to you, Succubus? Who did you lose to make you like this? Or were you a demon even before that?
I’m sure Link will be able to uncover the information about who she lost in her life without too much digging.
Eli
I’m one call away. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come for you.
His desperation seeps through each and every word.
Scrolling all the way down, the last message is from six months ago.
Eli
I love you, despite your destructive and vengeance-ridden tendencies. Come back to me! Choose me!
Despite!
What a fuckin’ moron!
I’ve never been in love, nor do I want that worst kind of weakness to ever touch me with a ten-foot pole, but sure as hell it shouldn’t come with conditions and exceptions.
What it should come with is warning labels, because all it does is make you vulnerable, dependent, and it breaks you when you’re left behind.
I’m familiar with that pain. I was abandoned by the one person whose love was supposed to be unconditional.
So why bother with a twisted emotion that only ends up destroying you?
Yet, this fuckwit with his “despite” can’t sell anyone his version of love.
And there it is again—the urge to delete each and every fuckin’ message he ever sent her.
This type of possessiveness is unfamiliar.
For me, a woman is a piece of ass I want to use, nothing more.
She shouldn’t be any different. Yet she is, for a number of reasons, some of which I can’t fully comprehend.
In the club, when she was fleeing, I kept wondering which one of us held a more wolfish grin.
Summer seems so much like me, and that’s one of the reasons I want her so badly.
I’m ready to start erasing anything on her phone that I don’t like when she shifts, and my attention snaps back to her. The way she turned made her whole blanket fall to the side, and everything beyond her drops out of focus, fading to her image.
Abandoning the phone on her nightstand, I lean over, letting my eyes devour every inch of those perfect curves that scream for my attention.
She shifts again, lying on her back, leaving her round, perky tits on full display.
Not only that, but her nipples are beckoning through the top she’s wearing.
I can fuckin’ see her nipples, and I’m supposed to not bite on them?
Count my dick thoroughly confused as it pushes against the zipper of my jeans, begging to be released, wondering why the hell I haven’t fucked her yet.
I can see her nipples!
That mantra loops in my head a dozen times before I realize I’m biting on a nipple through the fabric of her top.
One hand is squeezing her breast while the other supports me on top, and I have no idea how she hasn’t opened her eyes.
She’s most certainly not a light sleeper.
If she wakes up now, the housekeeping excuse won’t work anymore.
What the fuck could my excuse be, anyway?
Mammologist house call?
Unattended breast prevention?
My phone pings, and I scramble to pull away from her so I can turn it on silent. Like a fuckin’ amateur, I didn’t do that before breaking into her room.
Even after everything, she is still sound asleep.
How much more can I play with her, touch her, taste her, before she flashes those sapphires at me? My lips twitch with amusement at the next thought springing to mind. One day, I’m going to fuck her like this, see how long it takes for her eyes to snap open.
I lean in again, pinning her under me, burying my face in the crook of her neck. I’ve never condoned addictions, but reveling in her sweet scent and the softness of her skin is most certainly becoming one for me.
Pulling away a tiny bit, I rest on one arm, gliding my palm on her silky canvas, feasting on the view. Red mane fanning on her pillow like the fires of hell, and that angelic face of hers—nothing but an expert-level camouflage for her true nature.
My restraints are running on fumes, and I should get the fuck out of here, because I don’t suppose her legs would willingly part for me, yet.
Besides, I need to solve what’s been eating at me ever since I met her. Why does she hide the way she does? Who does she hide from?
I trace her opium-infused lips with my thumb, consumed by the memory of that kiss, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t give now for more of the same. She’ll kiss me again . . . eventually.
Testing my will to its limit, I pull away and head for the door before I can reconsider.
Gripping the door handle with full force, I halt.
A grunt and a string of curses spill under my breath at the thought slithering into my mind, making me turn around and head back to her bed.
I return to fuckin’ put the blanket over her.
What the hell is wrong with me? That Succubus doesn’t even deserve kindness. Not one bit.
Well, now I’ll have to save face. I glance at those salted caramel chocolate bars on the desk before marching there and snatching every single one. Then I’m straight back to her.
“You deprived me of my pleasure, so now I’m taking away yours,” I whisper in her ear.
I’ve reduced myself to someone who steals chocolate bars to get back at a girl.
I’d be the laughing stock of the whole city if this information saw the light of day.
But I’ll make sure to get more creative next time.
Fucking her, for example, would be a good start, before I do it again and again until there’s not a shred of smugness left in her, nothing but a writhing mess beneath me . . . or on top of me . . . or . . .
Fuck me, I want her!
I get out of her room, and with all the thoughts running through my mind, I basically teleport back to my place.
Link meets me at the door. He never sleeps over, same as me. I’m sure he was simply checking I wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere when he texted earlier.
“Where were you?”
Surprisingly, after what I’ve been through tonight, a smile pops on my face when I answer.
“I danced with a demon.”
Link gives me a look like I’m certifiably insane. Maybe I am.
“Find everything you can about Summer Night. She’s a first-year here. Same major as me.”
“Summer Night?” He coughs out a laugh. “For real?! And since when do you dig intel on girls?”
“I told you, she’s not a girl. She’s a demon.”
“Aren’t you a little melodramatic?”
“Fuck off. Just . . . do as I ask.”
“I take it you didn’t screw her since you’re being such a dick.”
Precisely the reason! All I can show for tonight is stealing a kiss, biting her neck and nipple, and a raging hard-on that’s been tormenting me at the thought of her.
I’m tempted to call some random chick, maybe a redhead, on all fours, making it easier to imagine it’s my demon there instead.
But another woman won’t have that same softness of the skin, or the sweet scent, or that defiant note in Summer’s dulcet voice.
No one else can cut it now. Her lingering smell, the image of her semi-nude body underneath me, and that fiendish smirk on her face still haunting my mind—all the above would have to do the job for the night.
I said I was coming for you, Succubus, but I never imagined it would be in my own hand.