Page 58 of Architecti
Simple.
The campus will have my back, it wants me to do this, after all.I slip out of our apartment, glaring at Aurelia’s bedroom door as I go.
Am I being childish and petty?Yes.Do I give a shit?No.Lucy had to know who I was.She’s Ignatius’s daughter, for fuck’s sake.Gods.She knew that and let me fuck her anyway.She continued to let me flirt with her, for what reason?Some sick joke she and her father have?Use and abuse mortals.Laugh at them while they flounder and pander to the demons.
Fuck her.And fuck him too.
I do need a walk.
I head around the building’s perimeter first, marching the energy off.I’m halfway around the mansion when Ignatius storms out the front door.
Interesting.
I reach the rear of the mansion and look up.There’s a window cracked with a light on in the penthouse.She’s in there.
Good.That’s good.I can just go and take her soul and be done with this whole Finis and Ignatius thing.
By the time I slip back inside the front door, Vetch is snoring loudly, and security guards are stationed in front of him.
Do all campus houses have security?I don’t remember seeing any when we passed House Mortis and House Vitalis earlier this evening.
The foyer is empty.I climb the stairs and head to the back of the mansion, using the secondary set of stairs to make my way up to the penthouse.
I press my ear to the door.The hissing rush of a shower drifts through the wooden panel.
I reach for the handle, but the door swings open by itself.I should be thankful.The campus is helping me fulfil my end of the bargain.
But I can’t summon the gratitude.Instead, my skin is on edge, the incessant tickle of an insect you can’t find.
It’s just one soul.
So what if I fucked her.It’s not like I care about her.I don’t even know her.
My feet carry me inside, slipping into her apartment and through the kitchen into an open living space.
I frown.There are several upturned boxes and items spread across the floor.
It almost looks like someone trashed the place and then did a half-arsed job of tidying.
A ghostly white cat pads across the hallway.I frown.It’s way too familiar.
“Hey you,” I whisper, and kneel to call it over, hoping it doesn’t make any noise.
It nudges my hand just like the cat in the city.I swear it’s the same one.It purrs, my hand slips through its body as it drifts in and out of its corporeal state.
It looks up at me and I swear it smirks.Then it sinks its teeth into me.
I have to bite down a scream.
“You little fucking b?—”
My hand washes through it as I swat it, but it bounds out of sight before I can catch him.
A moan escapes the bathroom.
And another.And I promptly forget all about the cat.
Sumptuous and deep, it’s a moan borne from a body close to orgasm.
