Demon Kissed - Katie May Page 0,32

the team (yes, it’s mostly guys whose testicles seem to have yet to drop). I sink into my seat and stare across the classroom.

And then I nearly start to cry.

Because I see who’s sitting in the teacher’s seat. It’s not Mr. Penn, the anorexic-looking teacher with the mail order bride from Thailand who has won my heart over the past three years with his lame dad jokes.

Nope.

No Mr. Penn.

It’s demon number five.

Kastros.

The hulking, brooding man sits behind the desk, his dark eyelashes framing eyes that look like they want to bore holes in my face. His cut jaw has a five o’clock shadow. And he’s not fooling anyone with that skinny black tie. He’s no nerd. His body is the epitome of meathead. He could give most bodybuilders a run for their money.

My team captain, Alanna, the only other girl on the team, approaches me with a huge smile. I notice she’s taken out her Invisalign retainers today. Guess she’s decided that the new teacher doesn’t need to accidentally get sprayed with spit every third word.

Wish she’d shown that kind of consideration to me last year when we’d gone to state and had to sit together constantly.

But I digress.

Alanna is all smiles as she introduces me, paying zero attention to the fact that she stands on my bad side and I can’t fucking hear her.

I have to turn my body in my seat to face her so I can figure out what she’s saying.

“Katrina, this is Mr. Kastros.” Then, like she’s some excited parakeet, she flaps her hands in front of her chest. “Mr. Kastros is deaf. Luckily, I have a cousin who’s deaf so I know sign language.”

From the back of the room, Wade, a guy whose mouth and asshole got swapped at birth, yells, “What the hell, dude? How the fuck is a deaf guy gonna teach us?”

Faster than I can blink, Kastros throws a textbook across the room, and it smacks Wade in the nose. He howls in pain as it starts bleeding.

The rest of the room goes as silent as a graveyard.

I swap a scared look with Tim, a Korean guy who’s been my decathlon study buddy for years.

Right, then.

Don’t insult the demon. Got it.

Though I am kinda ticked he’s pretending to be deaf. He can hear. And he has no fucking clue how much it sucks to have to constantly ask people to repeat things. Sometimes, I swear they look at me like I’m an idiot. Which I’m not. I took first place last year at state in the speech competition. People are just so self-absorbed, they can’t remember to talk to my good ear. Like Alanna.

Kastros stands, and with one last glare at me, as though I did something, he turns to the board and starts to write. I can read lips. You practice together. You compete. I watch. You fuck off, and there will be consequences.

Great. So he’s just gonna sit there?

Can he promise?

Can I get it in writing?

It’s better than the other demons, I suppose. If he keeps to his word. And stops throwing books at people. I’ll make an exception this time because Wade is Wade. “So Alanna will be in charge? And you’re not going to interfere?”

The question is out of my mouth before I can think the better of it.

Kastros nods, and I feel something tighten in my chest. It’s almost like I’m disappointed he’s not going to be more involved…which is crazy, because I’m not disappointed.

I want this promise. I like it.

But are demons known for keeping their promises?

That thought throws me for a second.

It’s not until Alanna yanks on my jacket and looks at me with wide, panicked eyes that I realize I spoke aloud.

I just called Kastros a demon in front of the other students.

Crap. Maybe I need to have my tongue removed like his.

My gaze flicks back to the desk, and I’m not thrilled to realize that there’s still a book on top of it.

I look up at Kastros, whose eyes growl at me.

But he doesn’t reach for the book. Instead, he lets the tension and anticipation build, which is almost worse.

Shit.

I glance around and see Tim and his friend, Darrel, staring at me.

Well fuck.

My normal reaction would be to book it and run and then just never show my face here again. But I think yesterday’s hijinks might have loosened a screw in my head or something, because I walk forward, through tension as thick as tar, until I stand right by Kastros’s desk.

Our