Page 115 of A Taste of Torment
I shove more of the delicious meal into my mouth. He does the same.
I still have half a plate when my stomach begins to feel really full. “You’re trying to make me gain weight so no one else wants me.”
His eyebrows rise. “Does weight determine desirability to humans?”
I pause, surprised by his question. “Yes,” I answer. “Our society tells us our value is in our physical appearance and the preferred shape is thin. A lot of boys make fun of bigger girls. That’s not the same in your culture?”
“No. Desirability is usually determined by ability and brightness. Body shape is not a factor.”
“Brightness?” I ask.
“Hmm, yes. For most supernaturals, the brighter the eyes the stronger the magic. For demons, that shows in our true form. We have dull-colored skin, but we have another sense that allows us to see a person’s—well, the only translation I’m aware of is brightness. Some call it an aura. In our human form, it’s more of a feeling.”
That’s interesting. I’ve heard of that idea before—people have like a glowing color around them or something.
“So I have an aura? What’s is like?”
He gives me a half-smile. “Gloriously bright, like sunlight.”
“Hmm,” I say, unsure what to think about that.
I somehow finish my massive plate of eggs and then lie in bed like a stuffed pig for the next hour. Jarron finally prods me out, only to realize I have no clothes to wear. It’s his T-shirt or my dress from last night.
So, we waste another hour waiting for one of the invisible helpers to bring me clothes. Somehow, they bring brand new jeans and a black T-shirt that fit perfectly. It’s almost eerie. Did they take my measurements while I slept?
They also brought socks and boots and toiletries.
A few minutes later, I’m dressed and ready to face the scrutiny of Elite Hall. Well, as ready as I’ll ever be.
39
That Was Not Something I Wanted to Know
Sharp gazes followJarron and me as we walk through the halls toward the sunroom. There is a small layer of snow over everything in the courtyard, making the world so much brighter today.
“There he is!” someone calls.
Stassi rushes over and gives Jarron an excited fist bump. Then, he chuckles and runs back. What the hell is that about?
Laithe, Manuela, Lucille, Bea, and Trevor are sitting in Jarron’s usual spot beneath the glass windows beside the courtyard. Bea claps once, twice. Trevor joins in, clapping faster. Then, the rest join in until it’s a full applause.
I freeze. A slow clap? Are they serious?
I turn on my heel, ready to hide from the attention, but Jarron pulls me by the arm. “Nope, not getting away that easy,” he mutters.
The group laughs at my blush, and then Laithe stands to offer us the seat. Jarron takes it without question and tugs me onto his lap, an arm wrapped around my waist. I settle into his warm chest and cross my arms stubbornly.
“It’s about time,” Trevor says with a wink.
Bea leans in, looking at my neck. I shrink back. “Still no marks, though.”
“One step at a time,” Jarron says with a fierce smile.
“But did you see that kiss,” Stassi says, followed by a high-pitched squeal. “I honestly thought they might start humping right in the middle of the banquet.”
A warning rumble reverberates from Jarron’s chest.
“Oh, whatever,” Bea says boldly. “It’s true.Anda good thing.”
