Page 52 of Quiet Burn

“Probably a good time to… get me somewhere…”

Like out of the public eye while I have a serious fucking episode over kissing my most annoying bully in front of the King of Hell after suggesting his general needs a goddamn mint.

Teenage Dirtbag

Zavida

While the Samhain Ball swirls around us in a decadent parade of power and prestige, Kit’s face is pale, his eyes wide with the terror that only comes from having one’s nerves frayed to breaking. My heart lurches for him; he’s stood his ground like a titan tonight, but even titans have their limits.

He certainly outshines me with his stubborn refusal to let people hurt those around him.

“We should get him out of here,” I murmur to Oriel.

The crow shifter slips his arm around Kit’s trembling frame. The heat generated from him and Jasper’s kiss still burns in the air, as well as their brazen challenge to the King of Hell’s authority. I feel the weight of every eye upon us, the whispers that will undoubtedly follow, but none of it matters. Not when Kit’s well-being is on the line.

Jasper’s actions were reckless, possibly dangerous, but also undeniably bold—very much like Kit himself. It takes guts tospeak truth to power, more so for someone whose past haunts them like an unshakeable shadow. I glance at Kit, his fancy attire now a stark contrast to his worn-down expression, and I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of respect. Despite everything, he defended me to Genie and handled the Bloodstones with a finesse that belied his unemerged status. His bravery is astounding; his resilience, even more so.

As much as he and Jasper clash, they are more alike than either would like to admit.

“Thanks, Zav,” Kit manages, his voice barely above a whisper, the gratitude in his eyes hitting me harder than any spell could. “And you, too, O.”

“Anytime,” I reply, trying to offer him a reassuring smile.

Slash moves ahead, broad shoulders parting the crowd like a ship’s prow cleaving through dark waters. He’s taking the lead, guiding us toward the edge of the ballroom, where a hidden panel waits just beyond the prying eyes of our peers.

How did he know this was even here?

“Inside,” Slash says, pressing a disguised button that makes the panel slide open with a soft click. He scoops Kit up with ease, his movements gentle despite the urgency etched into his features. We slip inside, away from the cacophony of the ball, and find ourselves in a small sitting room that promises sanctuary. The walls are lined with brocade wallpaper, the settee plush and inviting—a stark contrast to the chaos we’ve left behind.

As Slash lays Kit down, I can’t help but marvel at the foster kid who’s become so much more to us than a floor mate we didn’t ask for. His powers may not have emerged, but his spirit? It’s as if he’s conjuring courage from some inexhaustible source withinhim, facing off against actual demons that would make seasoned warriors balk. Still, he had the presence of mind to ask Oriel to whisk him away before he fully broke down. My admiration swells, mixed with a protective urge that has me clenching my fists.

I’ve never felt like I should help take care of someone before—only that I needed someone to take care of me.

“Rest now,” I tell Kit softly, standing guard by his side. “We’ve got you.”

In the quiet of the hidden room, I watch over him, feeling the echo of his anxiety like a chill in the air. If only I could do more for him…. But for now, this will have to be enough—this moment of respite, this silent vow of support. As Kit’s chest rises and falls with each slow breath, I silently promise to stand by him, just as he stood up for all of us.

Kit lies stillfor about fifteen minutes while the rest of us give him time to recuperate. I’m fairly amazed that all my brothers are staying quiet while we watch this guy bring himself off the edge of the cliff. Even Jasper is silent as he stares into the distance, looking contemplative.

“Seriously, Slash, how did you know about this place?” Oriel’s question breaks the tension that’s been coiling tighter with each of Kit’s shallow breaths.

Jasper’s response comes from a shadowed corner, his voice low but clear. “We’ve memorized every nook and cranny of Discordia. Knowledge is power—even more so with hidden alcoves.”

Slipping into the role of caretaker with a surprising ease, Slash gently settles at the end of the settee to watch the new demon carefully. The elaborate room, with its gilded edges and soft lighting, seems to fold around us, silencing the world beyond its secret walls. I’m actually more comfortable here than I was out there, so I will not complain in the slightest.

Maybe we all needed this break.

Kit sprawls out, limbs loose and askew, the picture of exhaustion and relief. X saunters closer, adjusting the supine guy’s attire with a flourish, their eyes twinkling mischievously as they catch Kit’s gaze.

“Mind your modesty, sir,” they tease, earning a strained half-smile from Kit.

“You know, I haven’t worried about flashing someone in ages.” Kit’s laugh is dry, almost a whisper. “Thanks, man.”

Laughter ripples through our tight-knit group—brief, but genuine, like the flicker of a candle fighting against the dark. For a moment, I consider what the act of completing the ritual had on our relationships with Kit. It didn’t change the way any of us look at one another in the past, though.

I glance over at Jasper, who stands apart from us, his jaw set, muscles tense beneath the fine threads of his formal wear. His eyes are distant, troubled even. What played out between him and Kit was far from simple rebellion; I can feel it deep in my bones.

He’s getting feelings he has no idea how to deal with—I know because I’ve seen it before.

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