The Kiss of Death (Demons' Muse Book 1)

by Auryn Hadley

I held up my hand to stop him before he could even start. "You'd better have one hell of a good story to explain why I should care after the shit y'all pulled in there tonight."

  "What are you talking about?" This close, I could smell the beer on his breath.

  I pointed back to Mac's, visible just behind me. "You already forgot that brunette with her hands down your pants? Don't play me for an idiot, Aaron. You see, that whole thing about being my boyfriend and not just some guy I'm seeing on the side? That kinda means you keep your dick to yourself. I'm not sure what part of that is confusing."

  "She was just joking," he said, trying to charm me with his smile.

  I wasn't falling for it. "I sure didn't see you trying to stop it!"

  "What did you want me to do?"

  "Tell her you had a girlfriend! That would have been a pretty good start. Removing her hands from your crotch was another option. Or, hell, you could have tried both – at the same time." I shook my head. "I don't need this shit."

  I started to leave but he grabbed my arm, tugging me around to face him again. "Don't you fucking walk off in a huff. I don't know what the big fucking deal is."

  Yanking hard, I pulled free of his grasp. "And that's the problem. You don't. I'm not looking for a piece of ass, Aaron." I waved my hands toward the campus. "There are about fifteen thousand men here, and most of them will put out, and half of them are better in bed than you. We're done."

  Maybe I went too far. Maybe I was a bit out of line, but his reaction to my anger was even worse. Before I could turn away, Aaron shoved.

  "Don't act like some high and mighty bitch," he snapped.

  "Fuck you," I shot back as I staggered, caught myself, then braced up before him.

  He hit my shoulders again. This time harder, knocking me to the ground. A sharp pain raced up my tailbone and pieces of glass and dirt chewed at my hand, burning. I gaped up at him in complete and total shock. Yeah, I was pretty sure he was drunk, but that was most certainly not an excuse.

  Before I could get back to my feet, a man somewhere to my right yelled, "Hey!"

  I shook my head, trying to make reality settle back into place so I could focus my attention enough to identify the new voice. Probably one of his friends. I should've been angry, and I knew I would be, but at that moment I was simply shocked. That douche had seriously just pushed me? Damn, I could really pick them.

  I also couldn't stop my mouth. "You fucking asshole! Go to hell, Aaron."

  The look on Aaron's face was intimidating as he moved to grab me, but the new guy was faster, catching his arm to yank him back as I flinched away. When long, dark hair swung over his shoulder, I recognized Nick. Part of me was thankful but mostly, I was embarrassed, and that fueled something deep inside that felt a lot like the anger I'd been missing. The fucker thought he could just push me around and I'd take it?

  Nick pulled Aaron away as he shifted his body between us. "You really want a fight that bad? I'm more than happy to give you one." His voice was cruel and cold, like nothing I'd ever heard before. It was the voice of a killer. "Trust me, I'll win."

  "I got this," I insisted.

  Nick nodded but didn't move. I slapped my hand on the ground, aware it still burned, and propelled myself to my feet. I wanted to rant and rave, but that was pointless. Right now, I just needed Aaron to leave so Nick didn't end up arrested because of my stupid choices in boyfriends. If that meant keeping this short and sweet, then I could do that.

  "Go home, Aaron. Don't talk to me again, don't call, don't text. The only thing I want you to do is go to hell."

  "Fuck you," he shot back. "You think I'm scared of this pussy? I'll fuckin' show you scared."

  Wallowing in his alcohol-induced anger, Aaron rushed toward me, trying to dodge past Nick. The look on his face was pure rage, pissed that he'd not only been rejected but also humiliated in front of some stranger. He never made it. Nick grabbed his shoulders and shoved, pushing him into the back of a car hard enough to crack the tail light. Aaron hit it and bounced off, but Nick grabbed him again. I saw the fist clenched at his side, the muscles of his arm bulging, and knew what was going to happen. If Nick swung, he'd end up the one in trouble, not Aaron.

  "Don't," I screamed.

  Nick froze – then pushed Aaron toward his truck. "Go home," he snapped. Every muscle was tensed, begging for an excuse to pound my ex into the dirt.

  Like a miracle, Aaron went. He didn't say another word, but he looked back before climbing into the driver's seat. I knew he'd been drinking, but at that moment, the only thing I cared about was that he was nowhere near me. Slamming the door, he pulled out of the parking lot, peeling out when he got to the street.

  I closed my eyes and sighed, leaning against the car that had taken a beating in my little domestic dispute. "Thanks, Nick. Your timing seems to be impeccable."

  He took a deep breath and moved beside me, his hip brushing mine. "Let me see your hand?"

  "It's fine." I held it up. The heel of my palm was raw, but it was only minor road rash.

  He took my wrist, his thumb tracing a line back and forth, careful not to touch the injury. "I didn't think he'd do that."

  "Me either." I chuckled. "Who knew he turned into a violent drunk? Damn, I suck at picking men." I patted the spoiler of the car with my good hand. "Wonder who gets to bill me for the damage?"

  Of course, it wasn't a junker. Nope, the car that had taken the abuse from my asshole of an ex was small, red, and foreign, all signs that it was very expensive. I thought about sticking a note under the wiper, but Nick chuckled.

  "Pretty sure I shoved the guy into it." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. "Also pretty sure the owner thinks it was worth it."

  "This is yours?"

  He shrugged. "Can I offer you a ride home?"

  "What is it?"

  "Alfa Romeo."

  "Can I drive?"

  Nick laughed. "Can you drive a standard?" He dangled the keys in front of me.

  I snatched them. "I'm a broke college student. Of course I can. I can't afford an automatic."

  "Black button unlocks," he said, walking around to the passenger side.

  I pressed the button twice since only the driver's door unlocked the first time. Grinning maniacally, I slipped behind the wheel, shocked to find that I could barely reach it. As I fumbled around for the controls to move the seat forward, Nick talked me through it until I could not only touch the pedals but had also mastered the push button start.

  I backed out carefully, overly aware that I was driving something that cost more than I could imagine. The car still smelled new, too, but Nick didn't seem tense. Nope, he seemed amused.

  "Guess this means I get to see where you live, huh?" he asked, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes. "Since you've already scouted out my place, it seems fair."

  "Or you can just stalk me a little more," I teased.

  He sighed and turned to look at me. "I was just making sure I was sober enough to drive home. You solved the problem for me."

  I nodded slowly, watching him from the corner of my eye. "It's ok, Nick. It's just that you seem to be in the right place at the right time today."

  "Yeah." He leaned his head back again. "Funny how that worked out."

  Chapter 4

  The next morning came way too soon. Art supplies in hand, I hauled my sore and tired body the couple of blocks to school, cradling my travel mug of coffee like a priceless treasure. Times like this, I was convinced that working the late shift would be the death of me. That, or getting knocked around by my ex in the parking lot. At least my class was on the first floor so I didn't have to brave stairs in this condition, but when I walked in? There had to be over a hundred people in here. This wasn't a classroom – it was a full sized auditorium! Wow, college was going to take a little getting used to.

  Nick beat me to class, which wasn't surprising at all. That I found him kinda was. And he looked perfect. Clean shaven and bright-eyed, he didn't give the impre
ssion of someone who'd been up until almost four in the morning. He looked like something that should be on the cover of a magazine: nothing but hard muscles and chiseled features.

  What confused me most was the empty chair beside him. As hot as he was, a few women should have moved in on him already. Then he lifted his head and waved. That's when I realized he'd saved the seat for me!

  I headed toward him, and he greeted me with a charming smile before grabbing his backpack out of my seat. With a groan, I dropped into it, then took a big gulp from my mug. Sealing the lid, I tucked it under my chair, trying to be casual about sitting next to Mr. Beautiful.

  "Morning," I said with a weak smile.

  "It's definitely one of those. How's your hand?"

  I lifted it, showing how quickly it'd healed. "Almost as good as new. Unfortunately, the rest of my body isn't as happy. Evidently, getting slung around like a rag doll uses muscles I didn't know I had."

  He ducked his head quickly, but I caught the devilish twitch at the edge of his mouth. "Maybe you just need a good massage?"

  "Is that an offer?" I pulled out my own notebook and folded down the piece of wood that made the chair into a desk.

  That twitch turned into a full-blown smile. "Did you want it to be?"

  "You are not allowed to answer a question with a question." I tried to sound stern, but the urge to giggle foolishly was too strong. The way he was looking at me? This was going better than I'd thought.

  He sat up and leaned closer, tilting his head toward my ear. "Then yes, it's an offer. I'll even include lunch if you promise to be nice."

  "Hey, I'm nice."

  He raised an eyebrow. "So far, but I heard what you told that dick last night. Remind me not to get on your bad side."

  I groaned and dropped my head to the desk. "Yeah. Breakups are always fun. Even better when the relationship can't get out of first gear."

  "Mind if I ask how long you two were dating?"

  "Ten days." I held up my hands, offering nothing. "Welcome to my love life."

  "Sounds like you've been dating the wrong guys."

  "Tell me about it."

  He chuckled, the sound rich and pleasant as he reclined into the chair. "Well, you should probably look for a different kind of man. Someone a bit more laid-back, with a good sense of humor. I'd recommend the kind of person who specializes in the sciences – it does compliment your flair for the artistic."

  My stomach flipped at least twice, but I struggled to play this cool. That had certainly sounded like an offer. Trying not to come across as desperate, I let my hand doodle in the corner of the blank page before me, but my teeth closed on my lower lip.

  "You don't happen to know anyone like that, do you?"

  "It's possible." His eyes flicked to the sketch I was making in my notebook.

  Barely paying attention to what I was drawing, I focused on him from the corner of my eye, adding tiny feet to the small bird gliding across what would-be my notes so I wouldn't look like I was hanging on his every word. Something about Nick had me feeling like an awkward teenager all over again.

  "Yeah? Like who?" I asked.

  He didn't answer, not at first. Instead, he reached over and placed his palm on my hasty doodle. Staring at the page, his dark eyes were intense. Not good. I felt my heart freeze in its tracks. After a moment, he looked up.

  "Someone that wouldn't try to make you fit into a mold." He lifted his hand. The bird beneath it looked nearly lifelike. "Someone who respects you and wants to get to know you better?"

  "Yeah?" My reply was distracted.

  We were both looking at the bird. I swore I could see every hair in its feathers, even though it had only been a rough sketch a few seconds ago. I couldn't remember drawing half the lines.

  Nick calmly turned the page to a blank one, but he was watching me closely. "Someone who understands about your art."

  The silly doodle was too good and finished too fast. People noticed those things. They might not admit it, but it always freaked them out. Always. Usually, it freaked them out enough they never wanted to talk to me again.

  "I've been told it's a little too realistic," I explained.

  "It's good." He didn't blink. "I'm almost surprised it didn't fly off the page."

  My mouth had gone dry, wondering if he knew. It hadn't happened in over a year, and I'd almost convinced myself it was just one of those side effects from the knock I'd taken back in that robbery, but I was no longer sure of that.

  "It's just a sketch," I insisted.

  "I understand." He sounded too calm, just like people did when talking to an idiot. "Just make sure it doesn't fly off the page."

  And there went the last of my hopes. He wasn't really flirting, just being a nice guy. Somehow, I managed to keep my face looking pleasant as I assured him, "I think we're safe."

  "So, lunch?"

  His question caught me off guard. Just when I was convinced my weirdness had scared him off, Nick threw me a curveball. "What?"

  "Can I buy you lunch? You know, like one of those almost dates that people usually do when getting to know each other. I figure I meet all the criteria. I've got a physics lab after this, but there's an amazing little Italian place just a couple of blocks over."

  Holy crap, he wasn't trying to ditch me? I couldn't seem to stop the silly smile from taking over my face, which was a big improvement on the pout I'd been trying not to give in to. "Yeah, I'd love that. I have Drawing next, but then I'm off for the rest of the day."

  The Professor finally entered the class at that moment, carrying a stack of papers. We both turned to look, but Nick leaned close to my ear as the chattering fell quiet. "Well, if that goes well, maybe I can convince you to come to my place."

  I nearly groaned. So he didn't really care if I was crazy, just easy. Unfortunately, I'd been hoping for a little more than just a hookup.

  "Nick..."

  He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Not like that, dove. Hanging out and studying, that's it. I just enjoy your company."

  Great, now I felt like a jerk for lumping him in with every other guy in my past. How did he manage to put me on such an emotional rollercoaster?

  "Sounds like a date," I assured him.

  "No, that's not a date. That's just getting to know you," he whispered as the professor started talking.

  This was the first class where we weren't just handed a syllabus and turned loose. Dr. Adams informed us that we'd be covering a lot of material and couldn't afford to waste a single day, then dove right into his lecture. He went over the major periods of art history, breaking it into categories, promising we would discuss each in detail.

  Nick took notes. A lot of notes. He wrote nearly every word that came from the man's mouth. Me? I turned back to the almost lifelike bird on the previous page of my notebook and added some shading to it. Most of the lecture was about stuff I knew by heart. Ancient art fascinated me and the Classical period was my inspiration. It wasn't until the more modern eras that I actually heard anything I should write down. I took the reprieve to look at the gorgeous man beside me, trying to wrap my mind around what he saw in me.

  He knew I was checking him out but politely ignored it. Only the upward twist of his lips hinted that he might even be enjoying the attention. Oddly, I didn't care if he knew. I wasn't exactly being subtle. Nope, I was acting like some high school girl with a crush – and not even ashamed of it. After all, I was single now.

  Class ended with the professor passing out our testing schedule and syllabus. He'd saved that until the end to keep students from walking out early. Brilliant, but most of the class was muttering about him being a hard-ass. I'd already been warned that Art History for majors would be tough, so I wasn't surprised. Sadly, I expected Nick to admit he was dropping the course, especially since he only needed to take the easy version. But when we put our things away, he surprised me again.

  "Ok, Art History might even be fun." He zipped his bag closed and stood, tossin
g it over his shoulder as his other hand pulled out his phone. "So, is there any way I can get your number? It'd make it a little easier to meet up with you in a couple of hours."

  "Sure." I recited it for him.

  He tapped a few keys and my phone buzzed in the front pocket of my backpack. "That's me. Just making sure it worked."

  I laughed and started shuffling out of the room, Nick following close behind. "Have a problem with getting the wrong number?"

  "Nope. I don't usually bother asking, so figured I'm ahead of the game already." He paused at the stairs. "Your next class is here, right?"

  "Yeah. Next floor up."

  He took a step closer, moving out of the line of traffic. "Yeah, I'm across campus." When I leaned against the wall, he took yet another step, holding me there. "You sure you're ok? I mean, after last night."

  "I'm fine, Nick. I bit the inside of my cheek and scraped my hand. Except for a few aching muscles, it wasn't a big deal."

  "Was to me. I shouldn't have let him do that."

  "You didn't let him do anything. Aaron was a jerk, and I kinda knew it from the start." I shrugged. "I just thought it was nice to meet someone so soon after moving here. Not exactly the best decision ever."

  "Yeah." He reached up and ran a finger along the line of my jaw, leaving my skin tingling in the wake of his touch. "Lunch. I'll text you if I get out of class early."

  I shifted my chin to keep the contact. "I'm betting they'll release us early, too."

  "Good."

  His voice was soft and deep as he quickly leaned in to brush his lips against my cheek. I sucked in a little breath, but before I could do anything about it, he turned away, leaving my mind spinning. Just before he passed out of sight, he looked back and smiled.

  He was gone, but my heart was beating way too fast. I lifted my hand to where the memory of his lips still burned on my skin, smiling stupidly as I made my way upstairs to my next class. Holy crap, how did he do this to me? This guy already had me wrapped around his little finger, and I was pretty sure he knew it.

  Up on the third floor, the rooms were studios. The floors were stained with years of splattered paint and the walls were covered in windows to let in the light. Easels were spread around the room with a stool behind each one. Most had already been claimed.