Page 6

T he late afternoon sunlight filters through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over the dorm suite. Settling on the plush leather couch, I flip open the sleek curriculum book, brow furrowed as my eyes scan the myriad class options at Ashtiroch Academy. So many paths to choose from, each holding the potential to shape my future profoundly.

A sharp beep reverberates through the stillness, the lock disengaging with a metallic thunk as the door swings open. Tensing, my gaze whips toward the entryway where a tall figure saunters inside with feline grace. She’s my polar opposite—deep burgundy tresses cascading in waves down one side while the other is shaved in an edgy undercut.

Flashing me a warm smile, she strides to the kitchenette and flings open the fridge. The crisp scent of apples and linen wafts through the air as she plucks out a chilled water bottle.

“Hey,” she greets, rounding the island to lean a hip against the edge as she uncaps the bottle. Full lips part to take a long pull, throat tendons straining with each swallow.

Clearing my throat, I set aside the book and straighten. “Hey yourself. I take it you’re my new roommate?”

She smirks around the plastic rim, amusement dancing in sable-fringed eyes. “For better or worse, looks that way. I had this suite last year.”

There’s an undeniable spark of mischief in her tone that has me fighting a grin. “Fair enough. Since we’ll be bunking together, introductions are in order. I’m .”

Raising an arched brow, she swipes her tongue along her plump lower lip as she recaps the bottle. “You one of those punctilious types that puts stock in names and formalities?”

“I have been known to be a stickler for manners on occasion,” I deadpan.

She hums, shooting me an impish grin that crinkles her eyes. “In that case, you can call me Sid.” A devilish glint flashes through hazel depths. “Until the mood strikes me otherwise.”

“Sid?” I echo with a snort. “What, short for Sidney?”

“Could be,” she lilts playfully. “Or it could be short for Lucifer’s handmaiden for all you know.”

Christ, this woman will be a handful. Still, her quick wit and saucy irreverence mesh well with my own wry humour. A reluctant half-smirk tugs at my mouth as I shake my head in mock exasperation.

“I’m sure the Prince of Darkness is quaking at the prospect of you joining his unholy ranks.”

Sid barks a rich peal of laughter, the husky sound skittering down my nerve endings. “I do aim to misbehave.”

“No doubt.” My gaze roams over the sharp angles of her striking features—sculpted cheekbones, upturned nose, heavy-lidded bedroom eyes framed by thick lashes. Even with her casual stance and relaxed smirk, there’s an innate magnetism and subtle danger coiled beneath the surface. “So tell me, o’ fearsome harbinger of chaos, any big plans to corrupt the souls of the pious tonight?”

Sid’s lips quirk in a feline smile, painted a deep wine that makes them look sinfully lush. “You hear about the Deadfall Games kick-off rager?”

She must be talking about the notorious bacchanalia replete with blistering music, illicit substances, and enough debauchery to make a brothel keeper blush. Rumours of the annual Deadfall parties are already swirling around campus, stoking the curiosity and raging hormones of every lust-addled student. I’ve caught snippets, passing by huddled groups thinking their whispers were hushed as I wandered the halls to try and orient myself with where everything is.

“You can’t be serious.” I baulk, arching a sceptical brow as I take in her shit-eating grin. “That’s the massive fuck-fest at one of the mansions off-grounds, right? No way the headmasters sanction that.”

“Like the depraved elite need permission to throw an orgy.” Sid scoffs, rolling her eyes. She props her hip more comfortably against the counter, sweeping an arm out in a flourish. “Some spoiled trust-fund baby is hosting it at their place. Har-something or other. No expenses spared and zero fucks given.”

My brows knit as I eye Sid sceptically, lips pursing. “An orgy, really? You’re joking, right?” I scoff, struggling to picture the prim headmasters and professors turning a blind eye to anything so improper.

Sid flashes a wicked grin, unapologetic as she shrugs a bare shoulder. “Hey, I’m just the messenger, luv. Whether you take the plunge into Sodom and Gomorrah is your call.” Kohl-rimmed eyes glitter with impish mirth. “But if a night of unfettered hedonism sounds like your brand of sin, you’d best start getting ready.”

Her gaze rakes over me in a slow, assessing sweep that has warmth blooming along my neck. I squirm self-consciously, all too aware of how frumpy I must look in these ratty joggers and oversized crewneck. Sid’s lips curve into a smirk, no doubt noticing my discomfort.

“Yeah, OK Sid,” I grouse, though it comes out more petulant than intended as I pluck at the shapeless fabric. “You think these posh wankers are gonna let some dishevelled chav like me near their pretentious party?”

“No knickers getting twisted if that’s the vibe you’re aiming for, babes.” Sid’s rich laughter skitters over my nerves like a caress, sending an illicit shiver down my spine. “But if you want to paint the town scarlet, we’d best get you out of these dreary rags and into something more… edible. It’s a free-for-all, one of the only parties that doesn’t have a guest list for the year.”

My pulse thrums with trepidation and wicked curiosity as she sashays toward the bedroom, every stride a lesson in sinuous grace. Pausing at the threshold, she tosses a smouldering look over a sculpted shoulder, crooking an elegant finger in a sultry beckon I can’t resist.

I swallow hard, mouth dry as a desert as I push to my feet with a huff. The book hits the cushions with a thump, decision made before I can second-guess. Whatever trouble this night has in store, it beats huddling in this room with only my nerves for company.

“Fine,” I grumble, stalking after her swaying hips. “So long as you can dredge up an outfit that’ll make me look halfway decent amidst the posh and prim.”

The sound of Sid’s throaty chuckle drifting back does nothing to ease the electric tension coiling low in my gut with each step closer to her boudoir. For good or ill, I suspect I’m about to get a crash course in the Academy’s more lascivious indulgences.