Sancte Diaboli: Part Two (The Elite King's Club 7)

She didn’t move.

I shot forward so fast, my face nearly colliding with hers. “Look at me!” I roared so loud her hair blew around the frame of her face and her eyes squeezed clos—

I shoot up from the ground, my cheeks damp and a scream so brutal tearing from my throat that I think it might cut it open.

“Hey! Hey!” Samael wraps his arms around me, rocking me back and forth. “You’re here. You’re back. It’s fine.” For the minute, I rest into his embrace, desperate for anything to keep me anchored in this world and not inside my head. “You’re here. Back. It’s fine.” Minutes pass. Seconds. When his arms become heavy and his presence thick, I push away from him and slowly stammer to my feet.

“Sorry…” I murmur, swiping my hair from my face. “I’ve got to go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” I spin around and make my way back to my bedroom as fast as I can. That was too much. Too fast, too dark, and too much. Whoever it is entering my head is evil. Their presence feels too hostile this time, yet leaves a taste of despair on the tip of my tongue.

I slam my bedroom door closed and lock it, not wanting to face Ophelia and Ivy tonight. If I’m going to see Brantley tomorrow, I need my sleep. I need enough energy to see him again.

Saint

I wake up the next morning with a pounding in my head that refuses to go away. Sip after sip of coffee and it doesn’t disappear. I feel hung over.

“Morning!” Ophelia bounces into the kitchen, far too chipper for my mood.

I wince. “Morning. Sorry about last night.”

She pours herself some coffee and falls down onto the seat beside me. “I figured you might need some space for tonight.” She takes a sip. “How are you feeling about that?”

I shrug, running my fingertips through my hair. “On one hand, I get to see my brother and my friends, and on the other hand…”

“… you see him.” Her voice is hoarse. She rubs the top of my hand with her palm. “Hey, I’m sorry. If there was anything I could do to help, I would.”

“Know any memory removal spells?” I joke, shaking my head while sucking down another gulp of my java.

She chuckles. “Unfortunately, that kind of magik does not exist, though I could try to dig something up from the old grimoires of our ancestors? Who knows, right? Maybe… maybe they were real witches?” She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at me, a smirk on her lips.

“I’ve never asked about your family,” I say, shuffling toward her. “Tell me about them.” I know Ophelia comes from big money, but I don’t know much about her family dynamics and who they are, and besides, I need a lot of distractions today.

“Well.” Ophelia rests her hands around her mug, the trim of her lime green robe brushing over the marble counter. “My father is the headmaster of an uptight prestigious school in Seattle, and my mother has her own law firm. Aside from those two very” —she rolls her eyes— “impressive careers, my mom comes from money, too. I have two brothers, both older and with their own families now. Neither of them live in the US, so I don’t see my nieces often, and that’s about all, you know, aside from my mom being heavily into the witch belief system.” She cocks her head. “I would ask about your story, but I’m thinking it’s a lot heavier than mine.”

“Hmm.” I smile at her. “You could say that.”

“Morning, girls!” Veronica waltzes into the kitchen, holding a large black box with a matte black bow wrapped around it. She places it on the counter. “This came for you, Saint.” Veronica moves for the coffee and Ophelia reaches forward to grab the box, sliding it closer. She snatches the card that’s tucked beneath the bow and flips it open.

“Wear it.” She raises an eyebrow. “Really?” she asks, turning to face me. “That’s how they talk?”

My heart rate becomes thicker, and my palms turn sweaty. “Not they. Brantley.”

She flicks the card back onto the box. “Well, he sounds lovely.”

I reach for my phone on the counter, snickering. “He’s not.” Instantly, I feel a wave of guilt wash over me. He is. He definitely is. If he allows you to see it. I didn’t even scratch the surface of what he hid beneath that hard exterior, though I know no one else had come closer to him than me. That’s going to change now, no doubt. He’s going to find someone else eventually and everything he and I had, everything he made me feel, she will feel. I shut down my thought process when I feel a rare tingle snap down my spine. Pretty sure that was a rage I had never touched before.