Page 7 of The Devil's Waltz

“Yeah,” I say, peeling open the banana and taking a bite. Swallowing, I add, “I’ll be home this afternoon.”

She pauses buttering her toast and looks at me over her shoulder. “I have training this morning and then class at two. We’ll catch up tonight.”

I nod, momentarily considering asking her to see if she can find out anything about last night’s attack—about the hunter who saved me. I open my mouth, but her phone rings before I can get the words out.

She grabs it off the counter. “Shit, sorry. I have to take this.” Hurrying toward her bedroom, Harper throws a quick “Have a good day!” at me before closing her door.

Leaving our apartment, I head toward campus, electing to walk so I can enjoy one of the last warm days before the temperature drops.

Halfway there, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and my stomach swoops as I read the new message

Good morning. I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.

The butterflies in my stomach flutter to life, and I press my lips together at a sensation I have very little experience with. I chalk it up to the fact this guy saved my life and is undeniably attractive. But that’s it.

I keep walking, glancing up every few seconds as I type a response.

Well, I’m alive thanks to you, so I guess that falls under “okay.”

How convincing.

Have you talked to anyone about what happened? Your parents?

I haven’t told them anything, but I talked to my friend Harper. She’s in hunter training, and if I had to bet, she’ll probably tell my mom.

Through no fault of her own, my friend has an inherent need to impress her superiors in the organization. It likely has to do with losing both her parents to demons and dedicating her life to hunting them, but that’s really not my thing to explore.

Are you okay with that?

At this point, it doesn’t really matter.

Even if they didn’t orchestrate the attack, there’s a good possibility they’ll still use it to put pressure on me to enroll again.

I can tell you’re super into this line of conversation.

My lips curl into a faint grin at the underlying sarcasm, but before I can type out a reply, another message comes through.

Can I see you today?

Cutting across the student parking lot, I approach the double doors to the university building, chewing my bottom lip as I go back and forth on how to respond. Do I want to see Xander again? The rational part ofme says it’s a bad idea. He’s a demon hunter, and I’ve stayed as far away from that world as possible. Living with Harper is the only exception. She’s my best friend and has been there for me for as long as I can remember. I can’t imagine my life without her. But Xander…I don’t know. The thrum of my pulse is making it difficult to deny wanting to see him again. Can I separate his job from the urge to spend more time with him? I’m not entirely sure why I even want to consider it, but there’s something in my gut nudging me toward giving it a shot.

I’m heading into class now. Busy until this afternoon.

It’s not an answer to his question, which I’m still figuring out how to address. There’s a voice in the back of my head, wondering why he wants to see me again. I’m sure I’m not the first person he’s saved during a demon attack. Still, the notion that he wants to spend more time with me makes the swarm of butterflies in my stomach flutter wildly.

Okay, no problem.

I tap my finger against the side of my phone as I linger in the quiet hallway outside the lecture hall. Harper’s always encouraging me to put myself out there. Maybe Xander waltzing into my life last night—regardless of how it happened—was exactly what I needed.

I type another message and hit send before I can talk myself out of it.

I’m done around 3 p.m. We could meet then?

Sounds good. Meet me at Storyville?

The name is vaguely familiar. I don’t recall ever going, but I’ve heard it mentioned more than once. I think it’s located inside Pike Place Market, but I check with him to be sure.

That’s the one in the market, right?

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