Page 50 of Satan's Spawn
Crayton stops abruptly, once again looking disgusted with my response to him.
As if there’s any other sensible way for a five foot three female to react to a predatory giant.
I’m pretty sure an hour passes as we watch each other, my heart beating wildly in my chest and the silence becomes deafening, scarier than any words he’s spoken yet.
Sure enough, I've proven just how wrong I am once he begins talking. “This is your one and only warning to leave this school”—he pauses, to correct himself—“as a matter of fact, this fuckingstate.”
I blink at him, and when he doesn’t add a damn punchline, I say, “You can’t seriously believe I will be going anywhere for the simple fact thatyou said so.”
The incredulousness in my tone brings a scowl to his face. “Are you not paying attention? Hard of seeing or hearing or some shit?”
When my only response is teeth clenching Crayton takes it as an invitation to continue another ridiculous show of force.
“Let me offer you a little crash course in Riverside prep, then, yeah?” His question is very little genuine and every bit mocking.
Asshole.
I should tell this guy he needs a crash course in human decency, but decide even a sarcastic version of advice is more than he deserves.
“Pretty sure I got the actual one at orientation, so no thanks.” I take off toward the door, hearing enough of his sanctimonious bullshit.
I don’t get far before Crayton’s in front of me again, blocking my escape. “All you need to know is that my family runs this school. And within the walls of it: I am judge. Jury. Executioner.”
I can’t stop the eyeroll that ensues even if I tried. “Are you done?”
“Not even fucking close. So don’t test me. As you’ve witnessed this week, I’m not known to fight fair.”
Those sapphire eyes are piercing into mine, almost maniacal. I should be scared, but I have my dad to thank for the reason I’m not.
I feel just as protected by him now as I did then, when I was the little girl he’d scoop up into his arms to avoid a large wave hitting the shore.
Crayton is just another large wave.
But I’m no longer that little girl.
“I don’t give a shit how you fight!” I say through a derisive laugh. “I don’t even know you. Other than being a bully, a jerk, and a liar because I met the man who runs this school, and I’m pretty sure he shares the last name as my friend Archer.”
My smile is petty, and I know it. But I can’t stop myself. It feels too good to stand my ground and not yield.
“Ah, yes, the headmaster’s puritanical grandson.” He peers down at my gold cross. “Figures you would surround yourself with the exact type.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll take a puritan overSatan's spawnany day.” My chest heaves like I just completed a five mile dash.
It’s as if all the blood in Crayton’s body rushes to his face with that statement: because it’s red, and hard, as if seconds from exploding.
Except, his words, they’re the eeriest form of calm.
“What the fuck did you just call me?”
“Did I stutter?” I retort, loving that somehow I struck a nerve.
This time when Crayton advances on me, he doesn’t give me the opportunity to try and escape as my back hits the wall. Two his hands slap against it on either side of my head.
“Oh, I can show you the devil.” He mutters. “I can have you screaming his fucking name.”
I don’t know why my stare trails down to that tattoo on his neck, but it does. That’s also when it starts to make more sense.
The horns. The goat.
