Page 56 of A Taste of Torment
Auren is standing stick straight, her face contorted into a grimace of terror. More ice crackles against the windowpanes, and the room dims. Black swirling shadows creep through the air toward Auren—like a monster’s claws, slowly stalking its victim.
I press my hand over my mouth and then slide it away quickly to cover my panic.
For the first time, fear strikes me. I don’t know why I care, but somehow, I really don’t want her harmed. But when I look into his black eyes, I don’t see Jarron. I see the monster.
Pitch black eyes, no whites at all. His cheeks seem more sallow somehow. His expression is emotionless.
This is the demon prince I expected when I walked into these halls.
The demon that hurt my sister.
With trembling fingers, I place my hand on Jarron’s forearm. He blinks and looks down at it. I swear, the room brightens slightly when he meets my stare. His eyes are still pitch black, but his expression is softer, filled with curious concern.
I shake my head ever so slightly.
His shoulders relax, and Auren collapses into her chair, panting.Three fae rush to her the moment the black magic recedes. They fuss over her, whispering frantically. The rest wait, several feet from the table, watching Jarron and I closely.
Jarron’s attention doesn’t leave me. “She deserves it and more.” He tells me, but the demonic rage is gone. My Jarron is back.
“Maybe. But I think you made your point for now.”
“Is that true?” he asks, turning back to Aurie, whose usually bright eyes are dim and red rimmed.
Her gaze darts between me and Jarron. Her hand is spread over her chest. She nods quickly, fear and embarrassment still clear on her face.
“I didn’t hear you,” Jarron says.
“Yes,” she pants. “I’m sorry.”
I grab Jarron’s hand and pull him the rest of the way to our table. We sit right across from Auren as usual. Jarron’s intense stare doesn’t leave her, but she never looks up from the table.
One by one, the rest of the Elite retake their place at the table silently.
I don’t know if she was behind my fall, but I do know she’s been against me from the beginning. I know she’s behind several of the rumors about me.
She is the opposite of a friend, so maybe I should have let it play out.
Maybe it’s because Janet told me she’s been nice to her. Or maybe it’s simply because one harsh comment isn’t enough to condemn someone.
Either way, it felt right to stop Jarron.
The table is quiet for the first few minutes. Then, finally, Jarron suggests we go get food. For the first time, I grab a chicken breast and pasta. A real lunch.Look at me go.
Jarron doesn’t comment. He grabs one small red steak, and we head back to the table without comment.
At the fully awkward table, I eat happily. Why do I feel so much more comfortable when someone else is miserable?
“That was so hot,” Stassi blurts out eventually. I flinch, but Jarron just snorts. I shake my head, not willing to dwell very long on Stassi’s random compliments, and continue eating my chicken pasta.
“I’m not yours, by the way,” I say between bites, side eyeing the demon prince beside me. Those words sounded good in the moment, but I do want to get my two cents in. He stops mid-bite.
Trevor snorts.
“If it keeps you safe, you are,” Jarron says, his voice low and serious, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“I don’t belong to anyone.”
His fork clinks against the table. My body responds to the predator’s attention with a shiver. “Do what you want; I won’t stop you,” he says seriously. “Our dating arrangement doesn’t have to be monogamous. But me claiming you may keep you alive here. And I will never stand by while someone hurts you.”
