Shadowland (The Immortals #3)(9)

“You could what?” He smiles, face looming so close his breath chills my cheek. “Slug me in my sacral center, perhaps?”

I gape, wondering where he could’ve possibly learned that.

But he just laughs, shaking his head as he says, “Don’t forget, luv, Damen was under my spell, which means he told me everything, answered every question I asked—including a good bit about you.”

I stand there, refusing to react, determined to appear composed, unruffled—but it’s too late. He got me. Right where it counts. And don’t think he doesn’t know it.

“No worries, luv. I’ve no plans to go after you. Even though your glaring lack of discernment and tragic misuse of knowledge tells me that a quick jab to the throat chakra is all it would take to destroy you for good—” He smiles, tongue snaking around his lips. “I’m having far too much fun watching you squirm to attempt something like that. Besides, it won’t be long ’til you’re squirming beneath me. Or even on top of me. Either will do.” He laughs, blue eyes on mine, gazing at me in a way so knowing, so intimate, so deep, my stomach can’t help but heave. “I’ll leave the details to you. But no matter how much you may want to, you won’t go after me either. Mostly because I do have what you want. The antidote to the antidote. I assure you of that. You’re just gonna have to find a way to earn it. You’re just gonna have to pay the right price.”

I gape, dry mouthed and slack jawed, remembering last Friday when he claimed the very same thing. So distracted by Damen awakening I forgot all about it ’til now.

I press my lips together as my gaze meets his, my hope rising for the first time in days, knowing it’s just a matter of time until the antidote is mine. I just need to find a way to get it from him.

“Oh, look at that.” He smirks. “Seems you forgot all about our date with destiny.”

He lifts his arm and I start to plow through, then he lowers it just as quickly, laughing as he locks me in place.

“Deep breaths,” he coos, lips grazing the edge of my ear, fingers sliding over my shoulder, leaving an icy cold wake in their path. “No need to panic. No need to get all spazzed out again. I’m sure that between us, we can come to some sort of mutual agreement, find a way to work something out.”

I narrow my gaze, disgusted by the price that he’s set, words slow and deliberate when I say, “Nothing you could ever say or do could convince me to sleep with you!” just as Mr. Munoz opens the door, allowing the entire class to overhear.

“Whoa—” Roman smiles, hands raised in mock surrender as he backs into the room. “Who said anything about bumpin’ uglies, mate?” He throws his head back and laughs, allowing his creepy Ouroboros tattoo to flash in and out of view. “I mean, not to disappoint you, darlin’, but if it’s a good shag I’m after, a virgin’s about the last place I’d look!”

I storm toward my desk, cheeks burning, gaze fixed on the floor, spending the next forty minutes cringing as my classmates burst into hysterics every time Roman directs a disgusting wet smoochy sound my way, despite Munoz’s numerous attempts to quiet them down. And the moment the bell rings, I make a run for the door. Desperate to get to Damen before Roman can, convinced Roman will push him too far and he’ll snap—an act neither of us can afford now that Roman holds the key.

But just as I turn the knob I hear, “Ever? Got a minute?”

I pause, classmates piling up behind me, eager to get to the hall where they can follow Roman’s lead and taunt me some more. His mocking laughter trailing behind as I turn toward Munoz to see what he wants.

“I did it.” He smiles, posture stiff, voice anxious, but still eager for me to know.

I shift uncomfortably, moving my bag from one shoulder to the next, wishing I’d taken the time to learn remote viewing so I could keep an eye on the lunch tables and ensure Damen sticks to the plan.

“I approached her. Just like you told me to.” He nods.

I squint, returning my focus to him, gut churning as I begin to understand.

“The woman from Starbucks? Sabine? I saw her this morning. We even talked for a while, and—” He shrugs, gaze drifting away, obviously still very taken by the event.

I stand before him, breathless, knowing I have to stop it, whatever it takes, before it gets out of hand.

“And you were right. She is really nice. In fact, I probably shouldn’t tell you but we’re having dinner this Friday night.”

I nod, numb, shell-shocked, the words glancing over me as I peer into his energy and watch it unfold in his head:

Sabine standing in line, minding her own business until Munoz approaches—causing her to turn and grant him a smile that’s—that’s—shamefully flirtatious!

Except that there’s no shame at all. At least not on Sabine’s part. Nor Munoz for that matter. No, the shame is all mine. Those two couldn’t be happier.

This cannot happen. For too many reasons to mention this dinner can never take place. One of them being that Sabine is not just my aunt, but my guardian, my caretaker, my only living relative in the whole entire world! And another, possibly even more urgent reason, is the fact that, thanks to my pathetic, maudlin, overly sentimental, ill-advised moment of weakness last Friday, Munoz knows I’m psychic while Sabine does not!

I’ve gone to great lengths to keep my secret from her, and there’s no way I’m going to be outed by my love-struck history teacher.