Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,144

food drive program. It’s already got a plan and everything. It’s not the best, but it’ll get you by until you can get another one.”

My face curdles. “You’re giving me a charity phone?”

“Yeah.” He props a fist on his cocked hip, looking haughty. “Got a problem with that?”

I look down at the phone, which is nowhere near as new or nice as my last one. On the other hand, it’s better than nothing. “No,” I decide, kicking back as I tear into the box.

Micha lingers annoyingly as I unbox it, straightening out the charging cord and powering it on for the first time. He’s fidgeting with the zipper to his bookbag, and I don’t miss the brief glances he sends me. “So,” he starts, sounding tentative and quiet and weirdly hopeful. “Did you see Lakevale?”

I look up at him, nose flaring with my sigh. This little shit really pushed me too far. But watching him watch me back, eyes shrewd and bracing, like he’s expecting me to strike out, all I feel is begrudgingly impressed. Micha Adams takes care of his own shit, and I respect the hell out of that, apparently even when that shit is me.

Shaking my head, I thumb my name into the phone’s start-up screen. “Vivian, right?”

He exhales loudly, but then instantly bursts, “She never learns!”

“At least Mortimer and Nancy finally hooked up. Was getting sick of that whole plot line.”

“Isn’t it the best!” He pours himself into the chair, elbows resting on my desk. “Who do you think killed Mina?”

We lob theories back and forth until Georgia arrives, looking between us warily. “Everything cool?”

“Yup,” Micha says, grabbing his bag and standing. “I’m going to get dressed out. See you in five.”

She watches him go and then looks back at me, raising an eyebrow. “The two of you worked it out?”

I don’t answer, because it’s the first time I’ve seen her since last night, and it’s this disturbing, violent clash of images that crosses my mind. Her, spread out on my bed, taking my dick. The wetness of her eyes as she told the Devils about the video. The soft part of her mouth as she sank down on my dick, teeth digging into her lip, against her feet swaying as she hangs, lips blue, eyes wide and lifeless.

I try to shake out of it, standing up to move to the door. I close it with my foot at the same moment I grab her by the arm, pushing her up against the wall and taking her lips in a hard, burning kiss. She makes a soft sound of surprise, but melts against me, arms winding around my neck as I lick into her mouth.

It’s a dirty kiss, full of hard breaths and an urgency that I can’t exactly explain, probably made all the weirder by the way I grab her chin, breaking away to look at her. Her eyes aren’t green this close up. They’re a whole palette of colors—browns, blues, hazels—all bleeding together to create this brilliant emerald that’s shining back at me. I want to tell her not to be stupid. I want to say I’m sorry, and that I’ll make this money count, and that what she admitted to in that video isn’t worth it. Nothing is worth that. Death is never anything but a loss.

But staring into her emerald eyes, all I can afford to say is, “You have to win. Got it?”

She gives me a confused look. “Is this another lecture on my stroke? Because I already told you, it feels weird to—”

I silence her with another kiss, not missing the scent of the perfume she’s wearing.

Lavender.

The next two days are blissfully free of bullshit. After Monday, most of the kids in my classes are so terrified of getting sent to Dewey that they behave particularly well. After getting the video, Gene chills out hard enough that he actually doesn’t bother coming to the club for a couple nights. Even my stomach seems to settle, giving me some respite from the usual background ache that’s always there.

Georgia and I have become pros at finding places to fuck. If it’s during school hours, there’s the utility closet, good for some quick, hard, dirty fucking against a shelf, or the Stairway to Hell, when weather permits. If it’s outside of school hours, she’ll come to my apartment, but since I need to get to the club every evening, we make it just as fast.

Either way, it’s always hot, frantic, quiet, and a