Page 80 of The Devil's Trials

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.”

---