Page 24 of Architecti
If he thinks I’m dating a human there would be severe consequences.That is one thing he has always been clear about.We Corvines do not sully ourselves with humankind, at least not relationship-wise.
His glare burrows into my ribs, infesting me.My cheeks flame under his penetrating glare.
“Her name is Midnight,” he growls.
“How… how do you know her name?”
“I asked you a question, Lucy.”My name spills from his lips all gnarled like a winter twig.
I breathe slow, trying to calm my thoughts, to work this through.Realisation dawns on me.“You know her…”
His adjusts his jacket, refusing to look at me.Oh, shit, he doesn’tjustknow her.My mind flits back to last night, to the scythe on her hip.
“She’s one of your reapers?”
His mouth turns into a nasty sneer.He rounds on me, gripping me by the shoulders, squeezing.
“You stay the fuck away from her.”
I frown and slap at his hand, only to receive a blinding pain behind my eye.
“Father, wh—” But the last words are strangled as he grabs my throat.
“I don’t know what you did or how you did it.But Midnight ismyreaper.Do you understand?”
I nod, my cheeks heating and swelling under the pressure of his grip.
“I know her type.All charm and ego.I’ve no doubt she’ll have eyes for you.Do not go there, Lucy.Do you understand?”
“Go wh—” I stutter, but his grip tightens.
What the fuck is going on?
“I do not need more controversy in my department.I had enough to deal with Professor Jorsin.Not only is it forbidden to fuck your students, you are a demon.And.She.Is.A.Mortal.”
I shouldn’t fight back, not when the consequences are so severe.
But my survival instincts kick in, and I claw at his wrist, my nails splitting and bleeding the harder I scratch and pull at him.I pull my knee back and shove it hard into his groin.
He yelps and stumbles back as my kneecap shatters.I scream and buckle as searing pain radiates through my leg.My nose joins in the fun and pisses blood, spraying the floor and splattering my white shirt with red polka dots.
“I don’t know why you insist on fighting back, you know it doesn’t end well for you,” my father says.
“And I don’t understand why you insist on treating me the way you do.I won’t be single forever.”
He hauls himself up off the floor and bends to offer me a hand, helping me upright.
“I am sorry.I didn’t mean to use my anger against you.That was awful of me.And you’re right, you deserve a demoness worthy of you, someone to take care of you.”
He pulls a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and dabs under my nose, then holds it there, squeezing the bridge of my nose until the bleeding stops.This is what I hate about him.The constant flip-flop.The emotional whiplash is exhausting.Sometimes I feel like he hates me and others, the remorse trickles through his tender touch.
“What aren’t you telling me about her?”I ask, sounding extra nasally from all the blood lodged in my nose.
He sighs, examines the hanky and resumes the pressure when my nose decides it’s not done haemorrhaging.My knee has stopped screaming at least.It tingles where the bones are matting back together beneath my skin.Though I suspect I’ll be walking with a limp for the rest of the day.
“The student invitation list was complete.Then late last night, shortly after you returned to campus, another name appeared.A Mercedes Midnight.”
“It wasn’t me,” I say.
