I need to loosen up and at least pretend to be comfortable here.
Don’t let anyone make you feel weak.
Jarron is hard for me to read. Or maybe it’s just that I don’t quite believe the vibes I’m picking up. All signs lead to: boy has legitimate feelings for me.
But that can’t be true, can it?
The demon royalty book has been in my head for these last few days too. The overall gist I’ve discovered is that most demon species are ruthless killers, with little morality—they are eager to destroy anything and anyone in their pursuit of power. But the demon royal line is a different story. They also used to be ruthless and animalistic, thousands of years ago, but when they connected to the human world, they began softening. Humanizing.
For a long while, this change was regarded as the royal line weakening, but in truth, the world has flourished under the new leadership style. At the end of the day, it means, yes, some species of demons are heartless bastards, but demons like Jarron have a strong level of humanity in their blood. It’s very possible for them to have affection for humans or other lesser creatures.
Jarron may be exactly what he appears to be.
But even a human could wear a mask to hide the darkness deep inside, so it’s not impossible for my first theory to hold true. It’s just a lot more complicated than that now.
I find a small glass filled with a dark red liquid right in front of me in the hand of a dark-skinned witch. I consider accepting the offering because it’s clear to me that what’s holding me back from getting the secrets I need is myself.
But before my fingers can grasp the glass, a rumble escapes Jarron’s chest.
The witch stumbles back with an apology.
“What the hell was that?” I ask.
“You do not accept drinks from anyone,” he tells me.
“Oh, come on, Jarron,” a deep voice says. We spin to see Trevor scowling at his brother. “You don’t really think I’d let anyone spell the drinks in my own room, do you?”
Jarron quirks a brow. “Like that black out night didn’t happen last summer?”
“That was different.”
“Jeremy laced our drinks, and you know it.”
Trevor rolls his eyes. “All my canisters have protection spells on them.”
“Good, then we will pour our own drinks.”
The crowd parts as Jarron pulls me over to the drink cabinet. Twin witches squeal and flee the area.
“Okay, Mr. Growly. I thought today was about fitting in.”
“You don’t have to drink.”
“I want to.”
He quirks a brow, then after a beat, he slides two glass bottles forward. One is red, one is blue.
“Red is a mollifier, basically a relaxing potion with similar effects as alcohol. Blue has a mild hallucinogen. It usually takes four or more drinks to feel anything, but I don’t know how quickly your body would metabolize it. It may feel stronger to you. So, blue just to loosen up a bit. Red to party hard.”
“Red,” I answer easily.
Without hesitation, he pours a few ounces of the red potion into a glass cup, drops a sugar cube into it, then hands it to me.
“Thanks,” I say and take a tiny sip. It’s sweet and sour and oh so smooth.
Jarron pours himself a glass of something black and oozing.
“What the hell is that?”
