Page 46 of Quiet Burn

What the fuck is happening to me right now?

“Damn,” I murmur under my breath as they step forward, arm in arm, a vision of contrasts bound together. I swallow hard, clenching every part of my body in an effort not to show a visceral reaction to the image in front of me.

Xerxes dazzles like the sun itself, gold upon gold, their attire shimmering with every subtle movement. Their cobra scale patches catch the light, adding an otherworldly gleam to the already imposing presence of our fashionable brother. They’re wearing a short golden jacket over a light shirt, with a swishy gold skirt that mimics the style of their uniform skirt. Embellishments at the neck of their open shirt as a collar and cuffs on their wrists bear shining crests of the demon Lust line, perfectly accentuate the metallic thigh high fishnets and glam gold knee-high boots.

But they didn’t stop there—no, X wasn’t satisfied with their own glitz being the limit.

They made Kit the shadow to their shine, cloaked in black and deep burgundy. X obviously trimmed and colored the new guy’s undercut to make sure it matched perfectly. The understated elegance of his short suit jacket with the skirt that matches X’s in a jet black with burgundy fishnets crawling up his legs. The unemerged demon has on black patent leather knee-high, heeledcombat boots to make him almost as tall as the willowy Xerxes, and he’s made up with a more subtle flair than my fluid brother. The caliphate crest on his collar winks at me, and I have to grit my teeth as my dragon snarls with happiness.

As they approach, our group is momentarily spellbound, caught in the gravity of their spectacle. I have no idea what to say—too affected by the imagery to do more than scowl in irritation.

“Stunning,” Zavida whispers, his voice tinged with an awe usually reserved for celestial events. “You both look amazing. But you’re?—”

“Late,” I growl, though the sharpness of my tone is blunted by the undeniable artistry before us. A glance at the ostentatious clock confirms we are indeed behind schedule, and my impatience flares anew. “We should’ve been there ten minutes ago.”

“Ease up, Jasper,” Slash says, his deep voice resonating like a bass string plucked in warning. “Better to arrive in style than rush and miss the moment.”

“I was going to say missingOriel,” Zavida chides as he elbows me. “Where is he?”

“Right here.”

I blink, cursing internally as I note the crow hybrid standing in the shadows just outside the elevator. The damn thief snuck in while we were all star-struck by the glitterati, and though I should be glad he managed it, I’m more annoyed than I am grateful.

Oriel steps forward, a Gothic black and purple suit ensemble covering his lithe, muscled frame. His dark eyes sparkle withamusement at fooling me, but he’s unaware he’s fooled himself. His piercings are all gleaming with care, even the large greed demon line crest in his ear, and his tattoos are showing via the half-buttoned shirt has on. Fingers full of big rings and eyeliner sharp as his raven colored wings, he’s the emo demon the girls from Brimstone will drool over.

And he’ll hate it, which makes me inordinately happy.

Kit’s eyes widen as he tries to play off his flushed face, nodding at our crowns. They are each unique to our demon lines, unlike his. “Why are they all different?” he asks, tilting his head, curiosity bright in his gaze.

“Each crown signifies our lineage,” Oriel explains quickly, tucking a strand of black feathered hair behind his ear. “We’ll delve into the histories later. Yours marks you as one of us, but it won’t draw unwanted questions.”

The shrimp looks unconvinced, but as Slash extends his arm in a gesture of protection, Kit accepts it without question. We all shuffle into a formation that surrounds Kit without smothering him, a protective barrier ready to weather any storm. He sighs, but once Salem hands him the tiny rodent he must have been holding under his jacket, that stops.

“Thanks, Salem,” he murmurs, placing the thing on his shoulder. “I needed her.”

“Don’t forget why we’re here,” I remind them sharply, my eyes scanning each face. “It’s not just about the ball. We’ve got Lucian to watch out for, and those vultures from the Games.”

“Indeed,” Anton agrees, adjusting his rainbow plumage with a flourish. “But I’m not about to let threats to overshadow the night. We can be vigilant and enjoy ourselves.”

X beams brightly and I groan as I foresee dancing in my future.

“Enjoyment comes second to safety,” I counter, as I lead the way out the door of our dorm.

Together we head toward theTriclinium, the grandeur of the underground ballroom waiting to be discovered by Kit when we arrive. It’s another hidden facet of our world he’s yet to explore, and for some reason, I’m looking forward to seeing him experience it.

How very odd.

Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major

Kit/Kat

Holy fuck buckets, Charlie Brown.

The moment we step into the underground ballroom, I’m hit by the sheer opulence. Fiery colored crystal chandeliers dangle like frozen flames from the vaulted ceiling, casting dancing shadows over the walls, which are etched with ancient runes that seem to pulse with a life of their own. Tables draped in black velvet line the edges of the room, each one groaning under the weight of golden candelabras and exotic flowers that hiss and steam, giving off an eerie light.

I tighten my grip on Slash’s arm as the finely dressed demon males from Discordia strut around downstairs, their suits tailored to stress powerful shoulders and devilish grins. They’re nothing compared to the royal-looking adults, who converse in hushed tones in corners around the room, their eyes glinting with power and secrets. Their attire is a dizzying array of silks and brocades, jewels winking from every conceivable place.

I’m going to go insane with all the fucking rich people’s bullshit tonight. I just know it.

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