by Katie May
“He never comes to games!” A hushed whisper rips my attention away from Cassian and towards a group of cheerleaders huddled in a makeshift circle, Mariabella front and center. Her brows are scrunched together as she stares at something over my shoulder.
“He’s looking right at us,” another girl exclaims with a nervous giggle. I think she introduced herself as Brianna.
Are they talking about Cassian? Or Lucas?
I pivot on my heel, following Mariabella’s line of sight, until I see Elias Briggs leaning languidly against the waist-high fence separating the field from the bleachers. He leans forward on bent elbows, and the cheerleaders are right. His eyes are fixed intently on our group. Or more specifically, on me.
“He’s so cute,” someone giggles, and I have the irrational urge to remind them that Elias is not cute but a predator in seductive clothing. The steadily setting sun is still bright enough for me to see the streaks of purple in his brown hair, flying around his chiseled face. Thick, curled lashes frame those violet-tinted brown eyes and give him an almost innocent appearance. But Lucifer was beautiful, even when he fell, wasn’t he?
He’s close enough that if I were to take five steps, I would be able to reach up and run the tips of my fingers over his hands.
But instead of giving in to that horrific desire, I ball my hands into fists and focus on Helen, who, as if hearing my mental plea, calls for the girls to circle her.
“Mariabella, I want you to take the lead this game,” she begins, and my friend positively beams as if she’s been offered an award constructed of pure gold. “Girls, Mariabella will start all the cheers and will be in the center of the formation. If you forget any of the movements, follow her.”
Everyone nods in understanding before Helen turns towards me.
“And, Peony, since you don’t know all the cheers yet, I’m going to have you sitting out the first half of the game. Just to watch and get an idea of what to expect. I’ll consider putting you in the second half if you feel up to it.”
I nod once to show her I’m not offended or upset. Despite working with the team for about a week, I still struggle with remembering a lot of the cheer moves. And besides, I’m not sure I brought enough flexibility potion to last the entire game.
I move to sit on the sidelines, resting my back against the wall that houses the raised bleachers. From this angle, I can’t see anyone in the stands, and hopefully, they can’t see me. I can, however, see the football team race out of the locker room, to the whoops and cheers of the adoring fans. They proceed to do pre-game warmups while the cheerleaders talk amongst themselves and work on some tosses and lifts. When seven rolls around, I’m actually excited for the game to begin. I’m not the biggest fan of football, but there’s something infectious about the screams from both sides of the stadium.
And of course, there’s Karsyn.
I try not to admire the way his broad muscles fill out the tight jersey and knee-high pants. I know that football players wear tighter than normal clothing to keep their opponents from pulling at it, but damn. Karsyn looks like a Greek god plucked straight from history. With his helmet off and blond hair askew, he’s breathtaking.
Emmett materializes next to Karsyn and flashes me a cheeky wink. He then sticks out his tongue and pantomimes licking an…ice cream cone. Let’s go with that. The crude gesture causes goosebumps to pebble on my skin as I roll my eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of it. Karsyn whips his head in Emmett’s direction, face scrunched in confusion, before he follows the other man’s eyes to me. Then his gaze darkens considerably, and he offers me a menacing scowl before slamming his helmet over his head.
Emmett rolls his eyes at his teammate’s antics, tossing me another wink, before he shoves his own helmet on and jogs towards the coach and the rest of his teammates.
And then the game begins.
When I say Karsyn is good, that would be the understatement of the damn century. He’s not just good. He’s fucking phenomenal. He plays football the way I play the violin—like each play is a separate note that has to be plucked. The anger from his eyes diminishes as he gets sucked into the void of the game, losing himself to each play.
By only the second quarter, our team is up thirty-five to zero.
They call Karsyn and Emmett back to the sidelines when the other team is set to receive the ball.
At this point, I’m standing at the edge of the field, slightly away from the cheerleaders to get a better view of the game. I don’t think I could sit even if I wanted to.
Maybe I actually like football. I know. The horror.
Uriel would piss himself laughing if he ever heard.
The running back from the Hawks begins to return the ball, running down the edge of the field near where I’m standing. The visitor’s side of the stadium cheers raucously, still hopeful that their team can win, even when they’re behind by five touchdowns. I can see our defensive players racing forward as well, hoping to tackle the dude before he can score. I’m bouncing on my toes, a wide grin on my face, when the Hawks’ player veers in my direction, hoping to get out of bounds before he can be tackled.
I squeal, attempting to run to the side, but I’m not quick enough.
The next thing I know, a two-hundred-pound man barrels into me, knocking the air from my lungs and forcing me to the ground. My head careens against the grass as stars dance in my vision, pain reverberating through my scalp from the impact. I’m dimly aware of the ref blowing his whistle and Mariabella’s startled scream. I can see Helen’s shoes in my peripheral vision as she jogs towards me, but I can barely breathe.
“Get the fuck off of her!” I hear Karsyn shout, and a moment later, the heavy body is all but ripped away from me. The ref once more begins blowing his whistle, but Karsyn ignores it as he kneels beside me, panic etched onto his handsome face. “Are you okay? Peony, are you okay?”
I try to manage a weak, feeble nod, but my body feels as if it’s been run over by a semi-truck. Or just a very big and muscular dude.
“I’m sorry,” the football player begins, but Karsyn throws him a look so frosty and full of loathing, that the guy immediately turns and jogs back towards his team.
The athletic trainer races forward and very gently begins prodding my body for injuries.
“I don’t think anything is broken,” she murmurs to my coach.
“Karsyn!” someone shouts, yanking at the quarterback’s shoulder. Karsyn quite literally growls at the man who I now recognize as the head football coach. “Get your ass away from them, and let them work.”
Face contorted in pain, as if leaving me is the last thing he wants to do, Karsyn allows his coach to steer him back towards his team, though his eyes refuse to leave mine.
“Can you sit up?” the athletic trainer asks, pulling my attention away from Karsyn. I nod once, feeling like a giant, nasty bruise, and both she and Helen help me into a sitting position. I twist my neck from side to side, attempting to alleviate some of the pain that radiates there, as tears prick my eyes. Fuck. I hate crying.
Helen slings one of my arms over her shoulder and helps me limp away from the field. As we turn, facing the bleachers, I see that almost everyone is now sitting, except for three people. It’s almost as if they jumped to their feet when I first got hit and haven’t been able to move a muscle since.
Lucas’s jaw clenches tight as he stares from me, to the Hawks’ football player who tackled me, and then back to me. Dozens of emotions dance across his face, like he can’t decide which one he wants to settle on. Cassian is standing as well, hands balled into fists and teeth clenched as he watches me like a hawk. Mrs. Town is staring at him with a tiny crease between her red brows, jealousy distorting her features. But he doesn’t pay any attention to her, focused on me.
And then there’s Elias. He’s still standing at the fence, still leaning lazily over the top of it, but his hands are extended as if he wishes to reach for me. His eyes are wide with fear, and I swear his chest doesn’t move, as
if he’s not even breathing. When we make eye contact, he releases a noticeable exhale, muscles slumping with relief.
Why is he staring at me like that? Like I’m the only person he sees?
Confusion swirls in my gut, causing bile to rise up my throat, before I force myself to look away. Isn’t that my go-to answer? Look away.
I just don’t know if I want to anymore.
“Peony!” Nana bypasses two security guards with a wave of her hand, racing towards me. “Are you okay, darling? We saw what happened in the stands…”
“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth as another stab of pain shoots through me. I don’t think my ribs are broken, but I do believe they’re bruised.
“I’m going to take her home,” Nana says to Helen, and my coach nods once.
“Take it easy, okay?” Helen tells me with a soft look.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her. “I just need to rest.”
And perform a few healing spells.
I accept Nana’s arm gratefully and allow her to lead me off the field to the polite claps of the audience. I can hear the game resume before we’ve even left the stadium. Isn’t that the way things always go? Someone gets injured and life goes on as normal.
But something changed in those last few minutes. Something that I can’t put into words. Something that will make it so life can never go back to normal.
Because beneath the hate, the anger, the burning fury I feel towards the Devils…
I feel the embers of something else, too.
Chapter 20
“How do you feel?” Nana demands, fussing over me. She attempts to fluff the throw pillow propping me up on the settee in the living room, her muddy brown eyes even darker with worry, but I shoo her hands away.
“Like someone plowed into me,” I respond dryly, my eyes flicking to the three triplets kneeling in front of the coffee table. Christian stirs a cauldron of a pink, bubbling liquid, while Polo tosses in a teardrop preserved inside a crystal tube. Gabriel watches the proceedings with a scowl marring his handsome face. Unlike the others, he chose not to attend the football game, so he’s shirtless instead and wearing a pair of loose pajama bottoms, the broad planes of his bronze chest on display.
“I think we’re just about done…” Christian murmurs, for once, his jovial smile nowhere to be found. He blows out the candle currently resting beneath the cauldron and then pours the liquid into a coffee mug for me to drink. Immediately, the pungent stench of sulfur combined with vomit contaminates the air, causing me to gag. I wrinkle my nose in disgust as I stare at the potion in distaste. Most potions taste like shit. Some witches, like my mother, place flavorful additives into their potions. Strawberry, raspberries, bananas, and even chocolate.
But we don’t have time for such frivolous things, not when it feels as if my body has been through the meat-grinder. Pain explodes throughout my body like errant fireworks as I bring the disgusting liquid to my lips, the sour scent barraging my senses.
“Drink it all,” Nana instructs sternly, and despite my grimace, I do as she says, chugging the liquid in one go. The taste makes me gag, and wanting to vomit, I bring my hand to my lips to quell the almost painful urge to do so. But when the nausea fades, I can feel the potion traveling through my body like the rapids in a river. It cascades all the way from my head to my toes, branching out to my fingers and shoulders, my stomach and my back. It’s almost as if my body is made up of thousands of train tracks, each one traveling to a new location. Warmth explodes in my stomach like bottled sunshine, and I squeeze my eyelids shut against the almost euphoric feeling.
“Fuck…” I curse as the aches and pains flare once, then begin to ebb as if they never existed in the first place. If anything, it feels as if I fell asleep in an uncomfortable position and am only now able to stretch out my taut limbs. Thousands of pinpricks dance on my skin as I flex first one foot and then the next. I bring my hand to my stomach, tentatively pressing on my once bruised ribs, but I feel no pain.
I have made and used healing potions before in my life, but never one like this. Never one that almost instantaneously healed something that should’ve taken hours with a normal potion and weeks without one.
“Christian here is a skilled potion-maker,” Nana explains when I stare at the three triplets in wide-eyed wonder. Christian blushes from the roots of his hair down to his neck.
“Sorry I couldn’t make it taste better,” he says before once more flashing me his easy-going grin. “I usually add a dash of caramel.”
“I’ll show you where you can put your caramel,” I hear Nana mutter, and his eyes turn heated when he stares at her.
Ohmygawd.
Stop.
Please.
“Well, now that I’m feeling better…” I say, voice laden with disgust. That vomit I mentioned earlier? It wants to make another appearance.
Before I can make my stealthy exit, the doorbell rings. I exchange a confused glance with Nana, even as Gabriel pushes off the wall, stalking into the foyer.
“I’ll get it,” he murmurs in his growly, raspy voice.
I hear the door opening, followed by a familiar voice. “How’s Peony doing?”
Karsyn.
What the hell is he doing here?
On silent feet—and ignoring Nana’s amused expression—I patter to the foyer, placing my back flush against the wall to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“Who are you?” Gabriel asks coldly, crossing his muscular arms over his chest and staring down his nose at Karsyn. From this angle, I’m able to see both of them, but they still have yet to glimpse me. I watch as Karsyn’s eyes survey Gabriel from head to toe, noting his young age, his bare chest, and his mussed hair. If I’m not mistaken, jealousy flares to life in his hazel eyes, and he stands even straighter, puffing out his chest.
“Karsyn Alder,” he says, as if he thinks that name will mean something to a frowning Gabriel.
I can see the cogs and wheels turning rapidly inside Gabriel’s head as he tries to recall where he’s heard that name before. And I can also see the moment he pieces it together, when he remembers the numerous stories Nana must have told him about Karsyn Alder and the rest of the Devils.
I’m unable to see his eyes, but his entire body stiffens, and he stands taller, almost vibrating with animosity and tension.
“I think you should leave,” Gabriel says tersely, and I choose that moment to make my appearance.
Immediately, Karsyn’s eyes flicker over Gabriel’s shoulder and focus on me, roaming the length of my body and inspecting me for injuries.
“Simone.” His tone is unreadable.
“Alder.”
An awkward silence ensues as Gabriel volleys his gaze between the two of us. After a moment, he takes a step towards me, giving Karsyn his back, and places a large hand on my shoulder. I watch Karsyn’s gaze zero in on the menial touch, hatred and jealousy emanating from his eyes.
“Will you be okay?” Gabriel queries, soft enough to not be overheard. Of course, that only pisses Karsyn off further, if his clenched hands are any indication. For all he knows, we’re whispering sweet nothings to each other. The thought of him being upset, of him being jealous, causes a wicked grin to curve up my lips as glee sparks inside of me.
“If I’m not, I’ll just zap his ass,” I assure him, and I swear the corners of his lips twitch. But before it can blossom into a full-blown smile, he gives my shoulder another squeeze before stalking off to join Nana and his brothers. I have no doubt that all four of them will eavesdrop from around the corner. After all, it’s what I would do.
I take a moment to study Karsyn as he does the same to me. His blond hair is freshly washed, as if he’s just come out of the showers, but it hasn’t been combed. Clumpy strands stick up in all directions. He’s wearing a faded T-shirt and low-slung blue jeans, and I can’t help but think how great they make his thighs look. I’m sure if he turned around, his ass would look even better.
“I thought you had
a party tonight,” I blurt out, attempting to sound nonchalant.
“Canceled,” Karsyn says through gritted teeth, his gaze almost unnerving with its intensity. Finally, his eyelids flutter shut and he releases a heavy exhale, shoulders drooping. “Peony, how are you feeling? When I saw you get hit, I thought I—” He cuts himself off abruptly, reopening his eyes to meet my own.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “Don’t feel a thing. He must not have hit me that hard.” I shrug my shoulders, trying to act casual, but confusion and suspicion causes Karsyn’s eyes to narrow.
“You were tackled by a guy three times as large as you.”
“But I’m fine. See?” I punctuate the last word with a tiny shimmy of my hips, ending with a high kick. Instantly, my cheeks burn when I realize that I looked like a complete and utter dork.
Karsyn’s lips twitch before straightening into a thin line.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Almost as if someone put a match to his ass, he turns on his heel and practically sprints outside.
But I’m not having that.
For some reason, Karsyn decided to cancel his homecoming party, show up at my house to check on me, and then leave only a few seconds later? Not having that.
“Karsyn Alder!” I race outside, ignoring the slight tug at my midsection, and hurry down the steep staircase until my bare feet touch gravel. He freezes only a few feet in front of me, every muscle in his body locked tight. “Why did you come?”
He continues to stare stubbornly ahead, but I see his hands ball into fists.
When he doesn’t respond, I take another step closer, ignoring the pain in my feet from the tiny rocks and pebbles. My voice sounds desperate even to me, almost a plea, when I say, “I need to know why you came.”
Finally, he turns around, and I’m struck speechless by the expression on his face. For a brief moment, Karsyn lets his walls down, his expression unguarded. My breath catches at the tender vulnerability reflected in his gaze. But like theater curtains being drawn closed, he tenses up, eyes flickering to something over my shoulder.