Page 45 of The Devil We Crave
I was just…curious. Hyper,hypercurious, to the point of needing to dissect things that caught my interest down to a cellular level before I could tell myself “yes, I now understand this thing and can officially move on to the next one”.
It would appear I have a new interest.
This time, it’s not apex predators of the late Cretaceous period, or 1969 pickup trucks, or sports teams, or Chopin.
This time, my fascination stands a petite five-foot-three, with long dark hair and big, curious green eyes. She reads downrightfilthydark romance books, lusts over shirtless fuckfaces in dollar-store Halloween masks, and occasionally watches short snippets of delightfully unhinged porn. At the same time, she appears to live her life like a nun with anxiety issues.
My fascination likes to run, which is, you know,hugelyconvenient. She’s smart. She leaves underwear that isn’t hers for a man I’d love nothing more than to punch in the mouth. Her greedy, tight pussy has managed to completely invade my every waking and sleeping thought.
But most curious of all, my new obsession is awoman.
That’snotto say I’ve been playing for the other team. I have zero interest in fucking men.
Butpeople, living, breathing ones that don’t have history books written about them, haven’t ever become “fascinations” to me. Napoleon, Chopin and Mozart aside…okay, and my sixth-grade obsession with Kurt Cobain…noliving personhas ever caught my attention like that. Even when I was into sports, it was the stats that interested me, not the players.
And that means that no girl, be it crush, girlfriend, or hookup, has ever gotten into my head at a level approaching that of raptors, trucks and Chopin.
She, it would seem, has. Or at least is rapidly getting there.
Someone should warn her to quit while she’s ahead. But it might be too late.
By that I mean it’s three in the afternoon and Yelena hasn’t been out of my direct line of sight for more than eleven minutes since she woke up this morning.
Hello, little raptor. Talk Napoleon to me and play Nocturne in E Flat Major.
I see her coming from about fifty yards away, a tight, determined expression on her face, like she’s rehearsed what she’s about to say in the mirror. I mean, shehas: eighteen minutes ago,for three minutes and twenty-one seconds, in the mirror of the second-floor women’s room at Blackwood Hall.
“What are you doing?”
I eye Yelena curiously as she comes to tense stop right in front of the stone bench I’m sitting on at the edge of the campus green, made unexpectedly comfortable from two centuries' worth of students' asses rounding it to perfection. Some of Knightsblood's famous white roses surround me as I calmly look her up and down.
I’ve never had a schoolgirl fantasy, but Yelena looksdeliciousin her midnight-blue pleated skirt, light gray knee socks, white blouse, and smart, thinner version of the tie that I’m wearing.
It’s atypical for college, but Knightsblood requires students to wear the school uniform to class. Some people bitch about it, but I quite like the commitment to the place's history and pedigree. Besides, the whole reason for coming here is to prepare to lead empires. And nobody’s going to be negotiating alliances or declaring war in jeans and a hoodie.
We’re notnormalcollege students, so why pretend to be?
“Well?”
Her indignation at my slow response is…amusing. Cute, in a way.
“Watching you,” I say easily.
Yelena’s throat bobs, her full, pink lips pressing together in a line. She shifts on her feet, hiking the strap of her backpack higher on her shoulder as she clutches a few books to her chest.
“No, I mean, why are you meddling with my life?”
The corners of my mouth curl up. “Meddling?”
Her green eyes glint, and I decide right then and there that they’re the color of a serene forest.
“I’ve been trying to fight Halbertson on a paper grade I felt was unfair?—”
“Because he has a problem with your father.”
Her eyes snap to mine, her manicured brows lifting sharply.
“That’s not stalking, little prey,” I say, grinning. “Nero De Luca and Nico Barone’s…aggressiveprank war waged against the entire Knightsblood faculty is the stuff of campus legend.”
