I narrow my eyes at the strange dedication and the Founding Angelic Headmistress it belongs to.
She stands tall like a goddess among us in the middle of the courtyard. Winding brick sidewalks circle around her, and building after towering gray building bleed shadows over the school yard.
Which one is Dormitory J? You’d think they’d have the letters displayed by the front doors. I guess they like to see us squirm.
“Lost?” A low masculine voice hums from over my shoulder. The sound of that single word lingers in my mind, my tongue flicking lightly to mimic the question, just to imagine the perfect way he said it.
When I turn, his demanding eyes don’t match that perfection at all. Black, depthless pools create a void of color, filling his gaze completely with the startling gleam of his watchful eyes. But the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw, the dimple that kisses his cheek, it all diverts from how alluringly terrifying his eyes are.
I force my gaze away long enough to study his other features. His hair is white. Not the white of snow, not the sparkling crystals of frost sparkling like diamonds. This is no winter prince. No. His hair is the white of the sky. Like when the sun shines down from between pristine clouds in a blinding halo of light. That’s what it looks like. A halo threading through the length of every strand.
How can someone who looks so angelically pretty have the pitch black eyes of a demon straight from hell?
“Uh…” I try to look away from him but it’s hard. “Dormitory J.”
He nods, a casual smile still clinging to his lips in the most distracting way. “Right. You’re new too. Let me guess. Fae descent? High fae if I had to put money on it.” His dark gaze drags slowly down my frame, starting at my inky hair and following the long length of my legs before coming back to my green eyes.
“You’re the second person who’s called me a fae today.”
“They’re delicate. Soft. Beautiful. A bit on the asshole side, but don’t take it personally.”
I can’t help but smirk at him and his easy description that doesn’t fit me at all.
Except for the asshole part. That’s debatable.
“I’m not a fae. I don’t think,” I whisper with a lingering sigh.
He doesn’t press me. Doesn’t judge me like the Headmaster did.
But the silence that settles briefly between us makes me feel the difference between him and I. Between myself and every single one of these students.
They know who they are. Where they belong.
And I… don’t have a clue where I came from.
When you’re adopted, you always have little nagging questions in the back of your mind no matter how loved you are.
And when you’re a mysterious Prod, it’s even worse.
“Let me walk you. I’m headed to Juvie now.” He walks away from me with confident strides. I barely have time to admire the black jeans hugging his taut ass like a second skin or the wide expanse of his strong shoulders before I’m rushing to catch up.
“Juvie?” I ask, a tad breathlessly.
His black eyes flicker to me but he doesn’t break his stride. “It’s what we call Dorm J.”
“We?”
There he goes again, lifting those lips up into a dimpled smile. “You ask a lot of questions.”
I usually don’t, this place just offers more confusion than it does answers. For a school, they’re not very good at educating.
“We Juvies, the poor Prod’s who live there, and the Elites, I guess. If you make it through the first two semesters, if,” he arches a sarcastic brow at that word but keeps going, “then you advance up into the better dorms. Dormitory E houses the second-year students. The real students basically.”
If. That’s all I can seem to think about. It’s a taunting word that drills through my thoughts over and over again. It must be a big deal for them to put such an emphasis on passing year one.
“How many first years don’t make it?”
He slows his pace and falls back to keep step with me, almost like he likes all my endless questions more than he’s letting on.
“Statistically less than half make it. The ones who never find their magic, their Prod. Or, their Prod finds them and loses control. That is the real issue. They made Academy of Six to stop things like that from happening in society. So... just keep that monster inside you in check and you’ll do fine.” He winks at me, his severely pale hair nearly touching his depthless eyes.
“Yeah. Sounds easy. Release your beast, but don’t release it too much. No problem.” I push my hands into my leather jacket and he follows the motion, watching me out of the corner of his eye.
I don’t even notice when we come to a stop on the far side of the campus. We’re here it seems. I look up at the building he called Juvie. It feels a bit like Juvie. A dark shadow of color permanently stains the crumbling brick. The window on the lower level is boarded up with decaying planks of wood, and the shattered glass still lays in the grass like no one had the time to truly fix such a small imperfection on the already eyesore of a dorm.
The trees to my left are dry and decaying without any hint of leaves, their thin limbs wafting and ominous, really giving this place a homey vibe with every eerie rustle of their skeletal limbs.
I exhale slowly and follow after my new tour guide. The very first step I take should tell me exactly how this year will go.
My white shoes barely touch the first step when the brick beneath gives away. A pathetic little scream crawls up my throat as I teeter backward the three inches off the ground I’d gained, hands flailing, my life flashing before my eyes, realizing it wasn’t much of a life to really flash, more like a little flare than a full flash.
And then darkness falls across my face. Strong arms wrap around me, warmth searing into my skin from where his body presses into mine. Chest to chest, big dark eyes look down on me. And suddenly giant, heavenly wings spread out wide behind him, arching up from his back and making his shoulders seem wider, stronger now than they were before.
Droplets of blood coat the tips of the wings strangely. They glow, as if every feathery strand is laced through with the light of cold fire, casting his whole perfect body in an iridescent halo. The ethereal glow that surrounds him only serves to make those black eyes look more like shadowy pits filled with dark promises.
This man, this man is bad for me.
I know bad when it holds me in its arms and presses me all up against its delicious fucking body.
“Are you—are you an angel?” I stutter like a star-struck idiot.
The heat in his demonic eyes should answer my question.
“Do I look like an angel?” He rasps in the lowest whisper that fans across my neck.
Angels are rare. So rare most don’t even believe in their existence.
This man makes me a believer. He looks like an angel.
He also looks like sex. That’s what his Prod is. I’m convinced now that sex is a monster and this beautiful man is housing it.
I shake my head slowly. He’s not an angel. Angels are innocent. Nothing in his dark, lust entrancing gaze is innocent.
“Come on.” He steadies me on my feet, not explaining any more.
Maybe I’ve hit my limit on questions for the day.
With more care, I edge around the broken step, gathering my confidence and pretending like that flailing mess who nearly died on the welcome mat wasn’t me. If they call this place Juvie, I need to never scream like that again in public.