Page 27 of Quiet Burn

Imagine that. He’s still hungry. I’m a lucky fucking Prince, indeed.

The Room Where It Happens

Kit/Kat

Salem is humming under his breath as we put the final touches on the dinner. I’ve been watching him while I carefully follow his instructions on each task I’m given, and it’s adorable. He’s got more energy than I would have expected for this time of night, but he did snack while he worked, so that might have helped. I grab the dish full of veggies I just finished and climb down from the stool he made appear in our kitchen earlier in the week. Walking over slowly so I don’t drop my cargo, I step into his field of vision so I don’t startle him.

The panda shifter gives me a big grin, pausing his rendition of ‘Shake It Off’ to take the platter. “You’re a natural in the kitchen, Kit Kat. I swear, every single one of these is the same fucking size. I don’t know how you do it.”

My face heats and I shrug when the praise makes my body tingle with happiness. “Hell if I know. I’ve always had pretty good spatial awareness. It helps you figure out where to hide and how to squeeze your shit into small areas.”

“Fuck, man,” he says as he dumps the plate into the boiling pot then turns to face me fully. “Itkillsme when you say stufflike that. I want to… smash shit, and that’s Slash and Jasper’s departments.”

What do I say to that?

“Um, I’ll try not to?—”

His hand waves at me and he shakes his head quickly. “No, no. I don’t want you tostopsharing with me, man. I just hate that you’ve had to make yourself so small for this long. It makes my bear pissy and he’s normally a prettylaissez-fairedude. I don’t know how to handle it.”

Flexing my hands at my sides, I feel my anxiety surge as I try to figure out what to do so I'm not upsetting him. My gut is clenching as he runs his hand through his hair in frustration and all I want at this moment is to make him feel better. “What can I do?”

“Aw, Kit Kat. You don’t have to do anything; I promise.”

Sure, he says that now, but I’ve heard things like that before.

I chew my lower lip for a second, then back up, deciding a little distance might calm my frayed nerves. “I’m… I’m going to change out of my uniform so I’m comfortable for the meeting. Are we good here?”

Salem looks at the counters and the place settings, then nods. “It’s good to go. Thanks for helping me get everything done. I never get this much done so fast, especially at night. You’re good company.”

Now I’m pinging between happy flutters and guilt, so I give him a weak smile before I head to my room. The sound of tiny paws on the floor tells me Dottie is following along, so I wait for her to scramble inside before I shut the door. Once I’m in, I lean backagainst the wood and close my eyes. Calm doesn’t rush through me like I expect it to, and I frown.

Why am I not calming down now that I’m alone?

It might be anticipation of the meeting we've been preparing for; that’s definitely been on my mind the entire time we cooked. Jasper’s mood is never predictable, and I have no idea what he’ll do. The rest of the guys have been fairly supportive since my attack, so I’m not worried about them. I assume he’s going to fill us in on whatever the staff has been told that students aren’t privy to. That, I want to hear because the low hum of fear thrumming through me every time the Games are mentioned is driving me up the wall.

“They were supposed to be telling us what’s expected of us, but all I’ve had so far are normal lectures and shit. It’s ridiculous,” I grumble as I push off the door and head over to my dresser. Opening it, I pull out a set of the sweats I was given and walk over to the bed. “I get that they’re demons, but this feels evil even for them.”

Dottie climbs up the bedpost, sitting next to me and looking up at me sympathetically. She makes soft sounds that I think are meant to be soothing and I smile as I run my fingers over her head. For a little rodent, she’s surprisingly supportive of my condition.

“Yeah, I know, girl. This entire place is a death trap and I’m surrounded by beings I shouldn’t trust as far as you could throw them.”

Sighing, I tug off my clothes, tossing them into the hamper before I reach for deodorant and body spray. I need a refresher after the day and you can bet Prince Assface would be the firstperson to tell me I stink if I don’t make sure I’m good. I pull on the sweats and rise to my feet, putting my laundry in the small hamper. I’ll need to find the damn facilities for that this weekend without a doubt.

Fuck knows the spoiled brats coming to our room won’t have a clue where it is, so I’m on my own with that.

I take my tablet out of the bag, my compulsive nature demanding I have the ability to take notes for later. Walking over to the mirror on the wall, I use one of my towels to wipe off the eyeliner, then brush my short hair so I don’t look like a frumpy mess. My eyes focus on my reflection, so different from a couple weeks ago when I didn’t know any of this even existed.

“You can do this, Kat,” I whisper. “You are a survivor in every sense of the word, and these rich kids aren’t going to take away this opportunity. Everything you’ve done so far proves that determination and stubbornness trump everything else in the end.”

I just have to keep telling myself that until I believe it—fake it ‘till you make it, Kat Camponella.

When I gatheredmyself enough to leave my room, I discovered everyone but Anton and Slash lounging on our couches. Jasper is sitting in the big armchair I like and every time I look at him, my lip curls into a sneer of annoyance. Of course he’d choose the place I want to sink into to feel safe andsurrounded without the slightest compunction. I’d be mad at Salem for letting him, but he doesn’t seem surprised by the choice. That might mean I’ve been sitting in Prince Twatwaffle’s seat when he’s not here, but I seriously don’t give a fuck about that.

This is my room, too, and I’ll sit wherever the hell I want.

Oriel tilts his head, studying me for a moment. “You okay, Kit Kat? Your aura is… wavy.”

The crow shifter doesn’t see auras, so whatever vibes I’m putting out that alerted him to my discontent aren’t that. “Super awesome, thanks for asking.”

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