Page 20

T WENTY C AMILLE

I’ve slept like shit since I killed that demon a few nights ago. Training has felt more real—not that I wasn’t taking it seriously before, but getting a taste of what we’re learning outside the classroom has fundamentally shifted my outlook on the whole thing.

For every one demon that doesn’t immediately pose a threat to humankind—like Blake, and I’m sure some of Xander’s other friends—there are at least a dozen that do. That’s what I keep reminding myself each day as I get ready for training. Taking that life saved countless others.

Yet the pit in my stomach always feels heavier as I stand in the middle of the training room surrounded by other trainees, including the group from Two Boots.

Noah has us practicing with obsidian daggers, much to the delight of most of the class. Target dummies are set up around the room, and I step closer to the one I’m sharing with Sierra, wrapping my fingers around the dagger.

Before I can take a shot, Noah pops up seemingly out of nowhere, shaking his head. “You’re not gripping it firmly enough.” He moves closer, his combat boots scuffing against the linoleum floor as he comes behind me. “You need to lift your arm higher, unless you’re trying to slice through the demon’s gut, which won’t kill it but will piss it off. Don’t mess around—take the kill shot immediately.”

I bite back a scowl at his tone that grinds my gears, and adjust my grip, making sure my stance is correct, with my feet spaced shoulder-width apart to keep me steady.

“Are you waiting for something?”

What is his deal?

I thought since he was with me to hunt that demon things were better, but clearly he’s still pissed about what happened while I was sick. I knew he wasn’t happy I didn’t send Xander away, but he’s seriously holding resentment over it? It could be something else, but his attitude toward me in particular feels intentionally cold and he’s never acted like this in class before now.

“Noah—”

“Do not hesitate,” he cuts in. “You do that, and you’re dead. I know you know that, so focus .”

My cheeks burn. After the demon attack, I thought I’d proven to him that I’ve improved since he started training me, but he’s treating me like…like he did Cody the other day. I’m not prepared to explore why, but that notion lights a fire in me, filling my veins with a scorching determination.

I focus my attention on the dummy in front of me, turning out the rest of the class as they continue practicing on their targets. Sierra shoots me a thumbs-up from my peripheral, and I move, shifting into the offensive stance Noah drilled into me yesterday. I lunge forward, striking out with the dagger and slamming it into the marker on the dummy’s chest where the heart would be.

Sierra cheers, sending a grin in my direction, but before I can return it, Noah shoves the dummy out of the way and steps toward me.

“What the hell?” I mutter.

Noah glances between me and Sierra. “This isn’t a game.”

“We know that,” I snap back, feeling oddly defensive over him yelling at Sierra. I can take his crap, but she shouldn’t have to just for being nice to me.

His gaze focuses on me. “Really?” He briefly shifts away, yanking my dagger from the dummy’s chest.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

He offers the dagger, and I take it before he says, “Defend yourself.”

I stumble back when Noah advances, shaking my head. “This is ridiculous,” I hiss at him. “Why—”

“Demons won’t give you an opportunity to prepare for their attack,” he bellows for the whole class while keeping his eyes locked on me. “You need to be alert at all times. Focus and fight .”

The training room fades away, and it’s just me and Noah. I can’t let myself consider the onlookers and what they’re thinking or I’ll end up running in the other direction, and I don’t want to even imagine how that’ll affect my reputation around here.

My heart thumps hard, and I focus my breathing, steadying my stance as Noah’s brows furrow in concentration. We circle each other for no more than ten seconds before I press forward, refusing to allow him the upper hand. I throw a jab with my non-dagger-wielding hand, but Noah is fast, shifting out of reach before countering with a kick to my ribs that sends me backwards and knocks the air from my lungs. He isn’t using his full strength, otherwise I’d be guaranteed a few broken ribs, but my cheeks are flaming with embarrassment for getting thrown on my ass so fast.

Ignoring the throbbing in my midsection, I roll onto my stomach and get to my feet before he can advance on me again.

Do not hesitate .

His voice rings clearly in my mind, and I latch onto it, shooting toward my target.

Noah’s eyes widen briefly when I slam my elbow into his gut, and I don’t back down. Don’t give him a chance to recover. I strike harder, faster. A kick to the groin, a punch to the jaw. My moves are less precise, but based on the rapid rise and fall of his chest, they’re good enough to work.

When he lunges for me, instincts I wasn’t sure I had take over and I lift my arm to block his fist from connecting with my face. The impact shoots pain down my forearm to my elbow, and I grit my teeth, hissing out a sharp breath.

He presses forward to strike again, but I jump out of the way, my muscles burning at the sudden movement, and whirl around to kick him hard behind the knees. Excitement fills my chest with pressure as he hits the mats, and I shoot forward, wrapping my arm around his neck from behind and pressing my knee into his back. He grunts at the attack, and I nearly fall to the side when he grabs for me as he rolls onto his back. I steady myself just in time and throw my full weight into him, keeping him against the mats.

Heart pounding, I straddle him, trapping my arm over his throat to immobilize him as I position my dagger over his heart.

Holy shit, I just took down Noah .

His expression is an interesting mix of shock and pride, and the corners of his mouth creep upward slightly, as if he’s fighting a smile. Reaching up, he taps my arm, conceding.

The class erupts into cheers and clapping, and I grin so hard my face hurts as I catch my breath.

“Okay,” he mutters, clearly less impressed with the class’s response.

I shoot Noah a smug look before pushing to my feet, leaving him to get up himself as I tuck my dagger into the waistband of my leggings. My stomach sinks when I catch Cody’s glare, but I steel myself and instead of turning away, I smile at him. Nobody is going to ruin this moment for me, least of all some guy I don’t even know.

“That was epic,” Wyatt says, clapping me on the back when he and Brynne come over with Sierra and a girl I recognize from class but can’t recall her name.

“Seriously,” the girl says. “And this after you kicked demon ass the other night. Word travels fast around here—you’re a total rockstar.”

My brows lift, and I glance around the small circle of trainees. Noah had asked Wyatt and Brynne not to say anything, but—

“Sorry,” Sierra sing-songs. “I couldn’t help it. Your peers should know how amazing you are.”

I shake my head, laughing softly. “I’m very much a work in progress, but thanks.”

More people come over, offering their praise and congratulations. I struggle to keep up and smile back at everyone as tension prickles along my neck.

The room feels warmer, and my pulse kicks up as each breath becomes harder to take.

Noah calls the class back into order, and I use that opportunity to slip out of the room, grabbing my water bottle on the way. In the hallway, I lean against the wall and down a few mouthfuls, wiping the back of my hand across my forehead to dry the sweat forming there. The pressure in my chest worsens, and I try to calm my breathing, struggling through the dull ringing in my ears.

I shouldn’t be shocked that all the attention—despite it being positive—on something I’d rather forget triggered a panic attack, but I need to get it under control.

I close my eyes, going through my tried and true breathing exercise until I pull myself out of the haze of anxiety. I blink them back open and sip on my water, waiting for my heart rate to return to normal. I’d rather sit the rest of the class out to avoid more comments, but I still have a long way to go and I need the training. Today was a victory, a clear marker of progress, but I need to stay focused.

I repeat that to myself a few more times as I walk back to the training room and hope it’s enough to keep the anxiety at bay for the rest of class.

That evening, shortly after six, I walk over to my dad’s condo a few blocks away for dinner. His place smells like an Italian restaurant when he opens the door to greet me with a warm smile and tight hug. The savory aroma of garlic and butter permeates the air, making my mouth water as we go into the kitchen.

I sit on a barstool at the island counter as my stomach grumbles. “Whatever you’re making smells incredible.”

“I’ve been on a pasta kick lately,” Dad says. “I hope you like rigatoni.”

“Pasta of any shape is perfect. I don’t discriminate.”

Dad laughs, tossing the dish towel over his shoulder. “Excellent.” He looks like he just got home from work, wearing a black dress shirt and slacks with his hair tousled but still neat, professional. Not so professional are the fuzzy slippers on his feet. They’re the ones I got him for Christmas last year, and I love that he actually wears them—I wasn’t sure he would.

“I’m making the pasta in a vodka sauce you’re going to love. I also have garlic bread in the oven and a salad on the table.”

“That all sounds great. Thanks, Dad.”

“My pleasure, kiddo.” He grabs a wooden spoon off the counter and turns to the stove, stirring the pot. “Tell me how things are going at Ballard. I’ve been looking forward to hearing about your experience so far.”

I’m reaching for the bottle of Riesling, unscrewing the cap and pouring each of us a glass before I say, “It’s been…a lot.” I take a sip and settle into my seat. “I’m constantly reminded of how behind I am, which has sucked, but I’ve made a few friends. I really didn’t expect to, so that aspect is nice.”

He glances at me over his shoulder. “Training with Noah is going well?”

“I think so. As well as it can be.” I run my finger through the condensation on my wineglass. “What has Noah told you?”

Turning off the stove, he carries the steaming pot to the sink to drain the water. “He’s kept me updated, but I want to hear from you.”

I press my lips together, watching him mix the pasta into the sauce. “It’s hard. Some of the trainees don’t exactly like me being there because of my connection to the demon world, so there’s a level of distrust because of that. Not everyone is mean, though. There’s one girl, Sierra, who’s become somewhat of a friend.”

“That’s great to hear.” Dad pulls a couple plates down from the cupboard and dishes out the pasta.

“Yeah.” I follow him to the dining table, carrying our glasses of wine and taking the chair across from him.

After a trip back to the kitchen for the garlic bread, we’re digging into our food and sipping our wine.

“This is phenomenal,” I tell Dad around a mouthful of pasta.

He smiles. “I’m glad you like it. Don’t get too full, though. There’s tiramisu for dessert.”

“I’m coming here every night from now on,” I say, only half joking.

Dad laughs. “You’re welcome anytime.”

I take a sip of wine before asking, “How are things going with you?”

“Busy at the office as usual, but nothing I can’t handle.”

I arch a brow at him. “You say that as if you have a normal job instead of hunting demons.”

“I’m trying to be considerate of what I share with you,” he explains in a gentle tone.

The knots in my stomach announce themselves with an uncomfortable tug. “Is there something I should know? Something about Xander?”

His brows furrow. “Nothing in particular. We’re monitoring the number of demon attacks as usual, and nothing has appeared out of the ordinary. The Seattle team scoured the apartment Xander used to live in but found nothing to lead them where he’s hiding out.”

I chew the inside of my cheek, setting my fork down beside my empty plate. “Before you ask, I have no idea where he is.”

“I wasn’t going to ask, kiddo. I didn’t expect you to know, as I hope you haven’t been in communication with him.”

I nod slowly without offering a real answer. I don’t want to lie to him.

“How about dessert?” Dad asks, picking up on my discomfort.

“Yes, please.”

Dad clears the table and brings out dessert. Halfway through and another glass of wine later, I find myself asking, “How many demons have you killed?”

He sets his glass down, swallowing then clearing his throat. “Unfortunately, I can’t answer that. It’s not something I’ve tracked over the years.”

“Oh. Not even a ballpark?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been curious about the family legacy within the organization since returning.” I drop my gaze to the table, adding quieter, “And since killing a demon a few nights ago.”

“You did?”

I glance over at him, nodding. “I asked Mom not to say anything so I could tell you myself.”

Eyes that remind me of my own glimmer with pride. “Congratulations, Camille. That is a significant accomplishment. There are very few trainees who have a real demon hunt on their record before they graduate from a training academy.”

I poke gingerly at the tiramisu with my spoon, unsure what to do with the new sensation bubbling in my chest. I’m not used to praise from my parents. It takes a few seconds too long, but I finally find my voice and say, “Thanks.”

“I understand it could have brought up some complicated emotions for you, but it will get easier.”

All I can do is nod as I cling to those words.

It will get easier .

I hoped the wine I had at dinner would help me fall asleep, but it’s clear that isn’t the case when I’m still staring at the ceiling an hour after I crawl into bed.

Maybe it’s the dessert conversation that’s been playing on a loop in my head since. Recalling the pride in my dad’s eyes as we discussed my first demon hunt. I’d already gone through it earlier in the week when I spoke with my mom in Seattle to report the attack.

At first, I was adamantly against it—I just wanted to forget the whole thing. But Noah managed to convince me to handle it by the book, citing that it would also help my reputation within the organization, and I couldn’t argue with that.

It felt wrong to enjoy the sense of accomplishment brought on by my parent’s approval. It threatens to open a can of worms I’m really not in a place to deal with, so I pop in my headphones and attempt to fall asleep to my ambient music playlist. And after another hour of tossing and turning, I eventually slip into restless sleep.

The silk sheets beneath me are so soft and warm, I never want to leave the comfort of this bed. I curl onto my side, hugging a pillow to my chest and sighing softly at the faint scent of sandalwood permeating the air. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relaxed.

Which is probably why it takes far too long to realize I’m not alone.

Some innate part of me senses him before I even see him. Blinking my eyes open, my next breath still gets caught in my lungs when my gaze connects with Xander’s where he lounges across the room in a dark wingback chair.

I sit up and immediately panic when the air feels cool against my bare skin. I glance down, and heat fills my cheeks at the tank top I fell asleep in. Gathering the sheets, I rush to pull them up to my chest. My heart still beats too quickly as Xander’s lips twitch and his eyes darken with a hunger that makes my throat go dry.

“What is this?” I ask, glancing around the unfamiliar bedroom. There isn’t much to it aside from the bed, chair, and an unlit fireplace. There are two closed doors across the room near Xander, as well as another to my left. The walls are a deep green that remind me of a forest, paired with dark wood floors and black drapery over the windows along the wall to my right.

Xander stands from the chair, approaching the bed at a languid pace as I white-knuckle the sheets. His eyes are locked on me as I take him in. The shadow of stubble on his cheeks and along his jaw, the casual, all-black ensemble of jeans, and a crew neck sweater under his leather jacket.

He shrugs off the jacket, dropping it on the cushioned bench at the end of the bed before coming around the side closest to me and leaning against the wall. His demeanor is relaxed and unbothered, basically the complete opposite of mine. I’m half-tempted to scramble off the bed and make a break for the door, but I have little faith in my control of this scenario. Xander brought me here—it’s probably not up to me when I get to leave. That, and I didn’t put on pants before I went to bed, and I’m not about to give Xander a show of my lace panties.

“Why am I here?” I ask in a low voice when he doesn’t answer my last question. “Is this a trial?”

He shakes his head, a wisp of unruly curls falling across his forehead.

My brows scrunch together at the urge to brush his hair back. “Then what—”

“I wanted to see you.” His gaze lowers to where I still have the sheets in a death grip. “You can relax.”

I shake my head, keeping the sheets against my chest. “Do you really need to be in my dream right now? I’ve had a long week and just want to sleep.”

Color me surprised when Xander’s expression softens, and he nods. “Harper told me what happened.”

“The two of you are on speaking terms, then?” I ask, not knowing how to tread when it comes to that relationship. Harper still doesn’t really talk about having a new demon brother, and I won’t push her to.

I can’t decipher the look on his face before it vanishes, and he cocks his head to the side. “I’ve found it depends on the day.”

I press my lips together to stifle a quiet laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like Harper.”

He offers a warm, genuine smile that makes a soft dimple appear, and it almost has me forgetting that none of this is real. Maybe that’s why I don’t move away when he comes closer, sitting on the side of the bed and angling his body toward me as he toes off his shoes. His eyes flick between mine, and the longing in them urges me to close the distance between us. My pulse ticks faster, and I swallow, trying to ignore the faint throbbing at the apex of my thighs.

Xander licks his lips, and I watch the movement too damn closely. I can’t even pretend I didn’t, so when he smirks, I just shake my head, exhaling an uneven breath.

“This is a bad idea,” I murmur.

He leans toward me, his breath skating across my cheek in a featherlight caress. “What’s that?”

My eyelids flutter, and it’s suddenly a challenge to keep them open. To deny what my body craves even while I’m unconscious. “You know what.”

Dipping his face, his lips brush my neck, his stubble lightly scratching the delicate skin just below my ear. “Hmm, I don’t think so.” The amusement coating his words like sweet honey only fuels the fire burning hotter in my core.

“Xander,” I say in warning. It’s more for me than him. Because if we cross that line again, I fear it will mean something different this time.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” There’s a challenge in his voice. He knows I’m still drawn to him. That I still long for him in ways I can’t explain.

My heart thumps in my throat, and I can’t make the words form on my tongue. I close my eyes, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip for a moment before I whisper, “This is a dream…It isn’t real.”

He pulls back and lifts his hand to snag my jaw, tipping my head back to meet his gaze. “What about this doesn’t feel real to you?”

I stare back at him, hating that I don’t have any room to respond, because his point landed exactly where he intended it to. Everything about this dreamscape feels dangerously real, most notably the longing and desire filling my veins like electricity.

Xander rests his forehead against mine, sliding his fingers from my jaw into my hair, where he cradles the side of my head. “Will you continue to deny yourself what you want?”

It’s called self-control, and I’m quickly losing my grasp on it.

As if on cue, the pulsing at my core grows stronger, more impossible to ignore. My pulse continues its wild pace, and before my thoughts can spiral further out of control—because what the fuck am I doing? —I grab the front of his shirt, wrinkling the cotton in my grip. “Just so we’re clear, this is a one-time thing.” Even as it leaves my lips, I don’t believe it.

Xander’s responding chuckle tells me he doesn’t either.

“We both know this doesn’t work in the real world.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself. Regardless, I have little faith in the effectiveness of my words. We both want this, to get lost in each other, even when it’s devastatingly fleeting.

In the space of a heartbeat, Xander moves onto the bed, bracing himself over me, his hair falling forward as his gaze meets mine. My legs are trapped between his thighs, and my heart thunders in my chest. He leans in, his lips level with my ear when he murmurs, “As you so cleverly pointed out, we’re not in the real world right now.” He kisses the pulse at my throat, stealing my breath, and my fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently. I guide him to my mouth, where our lips meet in a searing kiss that all but assures mutual destruction. And there’s not a single fiber of my being that cares.

I kiss him hard, not caring if our lips are bruised in the process. I put every ounce of anger and fear and longing into it, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him onto me so our bodies are flush. The weight of him on top of me sets my skin on fire with need, and when his knee presses between my legs, it takes everything in me not to grind against it like some wanton fiend. With only a thin layer of silk sheets between him and the ache at my core, my head spins, making my thoughts hazy with lust.

His tongue darts out, tracing my bottom lip before pushing into my mouth and grazing mine. He deepens the kiss, his fingers sliding into my hair, while his other hand glides under my tank top. “Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against my lips, palming my breast.

As if there’s any room for denial at this point .

“Yes,” I whisper, warmth cascading over me as I arch into his touch.

Xander breaks the kiss and shifts down the bed, taking the sheets with him. When he realizes I’m bare from the waist down, his eyes darken with lust, making my stomach dip.

I fight the urge to cover myself—it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before—and swallow past the dryness in my throat as Xander wraps his hands around my ankles and slowly spreads my legs open, keeping his eyes locked with mine. My cheeks and chest flush with heat when his gaze drops to my core and he drags his tongue over his bottom lip. Sliding his hands up my legs, my skin tingles in their wake, and when his breath teases the most intimate part of me, a shiver races through me. I inhale shallowly, struggling to come to terms with how this dream feels so damn real. The most powerful demon in existence is between my legs, mere inches away from feasting on me.

His mouth closes around me, and my thoughts scatter. I grip the sheets on either side of me, pressing my lips together as I lose myself to the sensations he’s wringing from my body. His tongue circles and pulses, and when he eases a finger inside me while sucking the bundle of nerves nestled there, my hips jerk and a moan slips from my lips.

Xander plays my body like an instrument. Teasing and caressing in all the right places to bring me new levels of pleasure. I never want to leave this bed, this dream, this moment. I can’t think about anything except the feel of him, his tongue and fingers, and when my core tightens around him, I moan his name and fall apart with euphoria.

I force my eyes open in time to watch him lean back and catch my gaze, his lips, glistening with my release, curl into a devilish smirk.

Holy shit, that should not be as hot as it is.

My chest rises and falls quickly as I work to catch my breath, and Xander slides off the bed, undressing with a smooth grace that makes it impossible to look away. His lean muscle ripples with the movement of removing his shirt and pants, and perhaps I should feel embarrassed by the way my mouth waters, but I don’t. Not here, not with him.

I do my best to keep my eyes on his face, but when he crawls over me, I can’t help when my gaze drops between us. My pulse kicks up as anticipation floods through me, and Xander chuckles, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. He nudges my legs apart again to settle between them, and the blunt head of him teases my entrance.

He snags my chin, trapping my gaze with his. “You still want me?”

“ Always .” The word tumbles from my lips before I even realize what I said. Xander’s eyes widen in time with mine, and he pushes into me completely, stealing my breath anew. I clench around the sudden invasion, reaching for him and bringing his mouth to mine. Our lips crash together, and he pulses inside me, groaning against my lips. I drape one arm around his neck and slide my other hand between us to work my clit as I adjust to the fullness of him.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, trailing his lips along my jaw before he pulls halfway out and then thrusts back in with a shallow grunt.

“Keep going,” I urge, overcome by the all-consuming need to be undone by him once more.

“With pleasure.” He pulls back, then slams into me. Over. And over. And over, until I’m writhing beneath him, panting in between moans.

“Like that?” he checks in a voice deep with arousal, rolling his hips to hit a spot deep inside me that has my head spinning.

“Yes,” I breathe, “Don’t stop.”

“No chance in hell, mo shíorghrá .”

I race toward my second orgasm, my core tightening as it crests, and I hold him against me as pleasure explodes in my core. Crying out my release, I moan when his lips find mine again, quieting the sounds with a kiss that I feel all the way to my toes as they curl into the mattress.

Xander doubles his efforts, thrusting harder and faster as his breathing grows shallower. He breaks the kiss and buries his face in my neck as his body tenses, and he growls against my collarbone, announcing his own climax.

It takes a minute for either of us to move. Xander pulls out, making me shiver at the sensation it brings, and trails kisses along my shoulder, pushing down the strap of my tank top that miraculously stayed on.

“What’s this?” His voice is deep, curious.

“Hmm?” I ask hazily, my head still all warm and cloudy with post-orgasmic bliss.

“You have a tattoo?”

Realization dawns on me when he pulls back to look at my face. The other time I was naked with Xander I wasn’t exactly in a position where he’d see it… “Oh. Yeah. I forget it’s there sometimes.” The intertwined flowers on my back along my shoulder blade—a reflection of my and my sister’s birth months—was a spur-of-the-moment decision we made walking past a tattoo shop one summer in high school. It would’ve been a lot cooler if I didn’t have to call our mom and beg her to come sign the waiver. Danielle had been old enough, but I was still a minor. Even still, it’s one of my favorite memories.

Xander drops down beside me, and we lie on our sides, facing each other as I tell him the origin story of the floral ink.

“That’s nice,” he says softly.

I nod, smiling. “Don’t get any ideas, though. I don’t think Harper is there yet.”

He chuckles. “I still have hope I’ll win her over. I just need time.”

My brows lift. I can’t help but wonder what’s pushing him to continue trying to build that relationship. It begs the question of just how lost his humanity is if he’s willing to work for that connection. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re making strides.”

His lips curve into a small smile in response.

We lie in silence for a few minutes. My eyelids feel heavier with each blink, and I snuggle into the blankets around us, the pillow under my head feeling extra comfy.

Xander shifts closer and lifts his hand to my face, brushing his fingers along my cheek and using his thumb to tilt my chin up to look at him. “You’re mine,” he murmurs. “Soulmate bond or no, there’s no one else for me.”

My stomach dips, and I struggle to understand the sudden burning in my eyes or the urge to reach for him and echo the sentiment. But something stops the words from forming on my lips.

It’s undoubtedly true—I’m his as much as he’s mine.

And that has the power to destroy us both.