Academy of Six Prodigium Gymnasium
The big white letters read.
My lungs premeditatively burn just reading it.
I still have the disgusted look curling my lips when footsteps and hushed whispers crawl up the winding sidewalk to where I stand.
All that hatred flashes away in the next instant.
Pain rivets up my spine when I feel the blow from behind. I have no time to react other than to take in quick, agonizing gasps. My feet almost give out under me, but I’m hauled up by the back of my blazer, whirled, and slammed face first into a wall.
Tears burn behind my eyelids and I force them away with rapid blinks. A meaty hand grips my long hair, pressing my cheek tightly against the rough brick. I can feel the stone abrading my skin but the pain is nothing compared to the rage rising inside.
It rises all at once, uncontrollable, a familiar rage that startles me at first.
A body presses against my back and rancid breath burns the hair on my eyebrows as that disgusting mouth gets closer to me, his lips brushing my skin.
“Looks like the academy let in another feck,” the deep voice murmurs, causing shivers of unease to race over my arms.
“Get your filthy paws off me, asshole!”
My words might as well have bounced off stone, for all the attention he pays them.
But the way energy is ripping through my chest tells me something bad is coming.
Something from inside me.
Fingers dig into the roots of my hair as he tips my neck unnaturally back. I feel the pain down to my scalp, to my skull. The tears come then from the pain, the rage, a mixture of too many uncontrollable emotions.
“Why do they let scum like you in?” the voice at my ear demands. I can hear the snickers and lewd sneers from whatever companions are at his sides. I can’t see them but I know automatically that if my Prod wasn’t so deeply buried inside me, I’d slaughter them all.
And the headmaster thought I had no control over the lurking beast.
He’s wrong.
I refuse to be responsible for another massacre like Adam’s.
With a slow breath, I calm the shaking, deadly sensation within and it quiets in an instant like a soft purring cat nuzzling before falling to sleep.
Good. That’s good.
Another hand wraps slowly around the skin of my neck, nails cutting into my throat. The touch isn’t lewd, but it holds the promise of violence and death. I feel the first scrape of claws against my flesh and then fingers are wrapping around me, choking me.
I struggle, but he’s too strong. A feeling of reckless, helplessness churns within me against this onslaught. My vision blurs black and white. I frantically buck against my assailant, searching deep inside myself for the power of my Prod that I shrugged off too soon.
It’s empty, I’m empty.
And I am going to die here.
I can feel myself falling into unconsciousness. I start to lose myself to the darkness inside. It’s all consuming, rising in a powerful threat that wants nothing more than to explode, wreak havoc. I feel it balancing on the delicate edge of my mind, my soul—
And then the feeling is ripped from me as that lashing hand slips away from me and I’m left gasping for breath. Burning heaps of air hit my lungs all at once. My body slumps into the wall and the weakness in my knees has me sliding painfully to the ground.
My attackers, big surprise, are werewolves.
These beasts seem more on edge than the others. Maybe it’s a shifter thing. Maybe it’s because part of them isn’t theirs at all but a monster waiting its turn.
Or maybe, maybe they’re just total assholes.
Their claws extend in vicious curves. Fucker, ever heard of clippers? Weak hysterical laughter wants to bubble out of my throat as the thought flicks unbidden through my mind.
My fingers tremble at my sides and no matter how hard I try, I can’t push the unshed tears from my blurry vision.
But I see it clearly when Wolfie goes down on a thudding slam at my side. Big fists strike, lashing into his cruel face without hesitation. Blood splatters across my cheek and lip and when a boot slams into the wolf’s side with a strike of finality, I look up to that blinding white sunlight once more.
To find a soulless demon as my savior.
Nubbie.
Oh, I should not call him that.
Maybe later.
But not now.
His palm wipes over his khakis and a deep crimson color stains the material there. He looks annoyed at the whole ordeal. Usually men enjoy playing the hero. He just looks like he’d rather be elsewhere.
His booted foot slams down onto the wolf's throat, causing him to gurgle, to struggle. His feeble attempts are so pathetic, I feel the need to laugh into his cruel face.
But then my savior bends low, so he’s crouching over my attacker’s body. It happens for a split second, a terrifying moment when those bright green eyes of his go dark, the color swallowed by the black of his pupils. The veins around his eyes swell and darken, as if the blood in his body rushes as black as the pits of hell. His face is spider-webbed in slashing lines that make him look all the more dangerous, deadly.
“I’m an incubus,” he mutters with an emotionless voice. “And even I wouldn’t put my cock in you.” His heel digs into the man’s throat. “Though I do have friends in hell who would revel in taking turns to make the werewolf bleed.”
The wolf makes a pathetic whimpering noise.
“Consider this your warning to fuck off.” He removes his heel and straightens, fully composed once again.
Beautiful, frightening emerald eyes flicker from the wolf at his feet to myself also lying in a mess of a pile near his shoes.
“I’m fine,” I croak out in an unintelligible sound of words.
I have the urge to stand.
But I can’t move.
“Christ,” he sighs, shaking his head with annoyance before slipping his hands beneath me. His chest is rigid when my head falls against it. Strong arms and impossible strength surrounds me, warmth and the smell of smoke wraps all around my tired limbs like a protective blanket and I won’t lie.
I don’t completely hate it.
Until he speaks.
“Listen, Feck, if you’re going to be letting these fuckers beat the shit out of you day in and day out, don’t do it at the gym. I like the gym. Try to keep it clean there.”
Oh, my god he’s obnoxious.
Rude.
Condescending.
And completely serious.
“I didn’t let anyone do anything to me. I’m fine.”
He starts walking in steady strides as if I weigh nothing at all. “Yeah, I could see that.” He takes the front steps of our dorm two at a time, jostling me so much I grip his neck harder just to stay safely in his arms.
Smooth muscle tone flexes beneath my fingertips and my fluttering heart notices immediately while my mind pretends she’s not impressed.
She’s not.
It takes more than an incredibly perfect body to distract me.
Shit, what was he saying?
“Just try to avoid confrontation and you’ll make it out just fine.”
“This entire place is confrontation.” My head bangs into his thick neck as he dodges and weaves around two girls ripping each other’s hair out in the middle of the dark hall.
Case and point.
Exhibit A.
I rest my case.
Meeting adjourned.
And so on.
“Then I don’t know. Find someone to intimidate your intimidators. Otherwise you’re as good as gone.”