29. Bram

My fists clenched at my sides, and chaos simmered in my veins.

How fucking dare she come over here and apologize to me after her father ate a piece of my fucking soul? Who did she think she was? Did she want me to absolve her of guilt? Was she even guilty, or was it a show for my brother?

Surely, she recognized him. He was a fucking Havoc, after all. One of the last pure-blooded chaos demon families left.

I didn’t know what game she was playing, but I wasn’t buying it.

Fury ticked at my jaw as the sun beat down mercilessly, searing the sand beneath my feet. I think I lost a shoe at some point during class, but I wasn’t even fucking sure when. So, one was covered, and the other was covered in the hot grains. It didn’t matter anyway, though; the heat was nothing but a mere annoyance compared to the inferno of my anger—especially since I was fucking sober now. At least, as close to sober as I’d been in years.

The scent of dry earth mingled with the cloying perfume of daisies that covered Slater—another reminder of his nobility that seemed to cling to the air, a stench that revolted me.

A group of nobles, and Gravesend’s damn roommate, meandered around us, their laughter and oblivious nature grating on my nerves. I could taste the dust kicked up by their carefree steps.

“Damned nobles,” I muttered with a venomous hiss.

“Bram, that’s enough!” Slater’s tone cut through the air, and he ran both hands through his short red hair as if he were exasperated by me. His noble birth was evident in his stature, his demeanor, everything that I detested. “You’re just abrasive and mean, Bram, especially toward that woman, Pandora,” Slater chided. “She”s done nothing to warrant your anger like that.”

“Nothing except exist,” I snapped, stepping toe-to-toe with him. “But then, I guess you two have that shit in common—you damn fucking nobles.”

Slater tossed his head back and groaned. “This has nothing to do with nobility, Bram. It”s about being a decent fucking soul. Can”t you see that?”

“Fuck, dude, you have everything to do with nobility. And guess what? I”ve lived without nobility for this long,” I growled, turning away from Slater”s penetrating gaze. “I don”t need it now, and I certainly don’t need you.”

Fates, what was his fucking deal?

I’d had it beaten into me that I wouldn’t amount to anything, and my father was right—all I was good for was drinking.

Then, out of nowhere, Melinda Havoc, my father’s ex-partner, tells her son that I fucking exist and he…what? Wants to be the doting big brother? He wants to make me into something I’m not? No. Fuck that, and fuck them.

I didn’t need anyone telling me how to live my life, especially not the Havocs.

Slater might not have known about me, but I sure as hell knew about him. My father compared me to the asshole constantly, telling me how much better Slater was and how it was useless for me to compete with a fucking noble.

Iwas the reason he was cast out of nobility, after all. But then, he was the one who got my mother pregnant.

Whatever. I didn’t even fucking care anymore.

As I stormed away from him, a familiar, maddeningly sweet scent teased my nose – caramel. The same scent that clung to Pandora.

I loathed that I loved it, hated that it reminded me of caramel candies, a childish indulgence I’d never admit to anyone.

Caramel candies reminded me of my grandpa, the only noble I could ever stand. Mainly because he was the only demon that took any sort of interest in me as a kid, and he always offered me caramel candies. He told me stories about fated mates and the pure love that was unconditional within a matebond. I was fascinated, and I prayed to the Fates to give me one, but clearly, they didn’t think I was worth anything, either. At one time, I thought nobility couldn’t be that bad since Grandpa was a noble…but I was sorely mistaken. He died when I was seven, and then I was pretty much alone in this world.

The rest of my father’s noble family acted like we didn’t exist. Not that I could blame them after what he did…

I was thinking too much, and I needed to numb my brain with fae-level alcohol.

But the scent of caramel drew me in, leading me into the Demonic Archives. I pushed through the heavy doors, the mouth-watering scent growing stronger as I climbed the spiral staircase to the upper level. A musty smell of old books became a sharp contrast to the lingering scent of caramel that beckoned me forward. I moved swiftly, my footsteps echoing awkwardly in the near-silence since I lost one of my shoes, but I didn’t give a shit.

Sunlight filtered through high windows on this floor, casting an orange glow across the rows of books. Not many other students were around here, but I didn’t blame them. Who even went to a library anymore? I was only here to give that noble brat a piece of my mind.

Anger simmered along with my chaos magic, a bubbling mess ready to spill over.

But then, I found her.

My steps faltered, and my breath caught in my throat.

She was right there, standing between two bookshelves, cradling a book in her arms. The light bounced over her long, glossy black hair that fell like a silk curtain down to her waist. Her long lashes cast feathery shadows on her pink cheeks as she read, engrossed in whatever the book’s text said. But it was her eyes, when she momentarily glanced up at the rest of the spines in front of her, that ensnared me in a way they never had before—bright red, vibrant, and alive, like two blazing flames that burned but didn’t destroy.

As if she sensed someone watching her, her gaze lifted from the pages, locking onto mine. For a moment—just a split moment—the anger that had been my constant for years melted away. I was caught in her spell, just like I had mocked Skel and Dex for doing, bewitched by the sheer beauty of her presence. There was something about the way she existed, like her soul called out to mine.

Those fiery eyes of hers narrowed slightly, a flicker of irritation at being disturbed, but there was a flicker of recognition, too.

I took a sharp inhale and caught my bearings, reminding myself why I had chased her down. The heat of my anger reignited by the intensity of her stare. But, even as I stepped forward, ready to chew her out, there was a part of me that whispered a reluctant admiration for the noble demoness.

Chaos erupted around us as I moved forward.

The books trembled on their shelves. With a roar of my magic, volumes cascaded around me in a whirlwind of paper and leather.

Panic seized her; I could feel the chaos stemming off her as her eyes widened with shock. She turned to flee, only to find Chaos, my manifested magic wolf, blocking her path. The creature snarled, a spectral guardian that answered only to my fury.

“Mind your business,” I spat as I approached her.

“You sought me out to tell me that?” She gaped at me, her lips pouted out.

“Don’t be a smartass.” I glared down at her, noticing how far she had to lean her head back to meet my gaze.

“I was minding my business,” she retorted, closing the book with a snap before it flew right out of her hands and into the air. She groaned. “I just wanted…to apologize for Daryl, which I did. You were the one having family drama in the middle of campus.”

“Shut your mouth,” I hissed.

She squared her shoulders, and malice shimmered in her gaze. “I’ve survived in more chaos than you could throw at me, but you, Bram Hemlock, you seem to thrive in it.”

She said my name.

In a move as swift as it was rough, I grabbed her shoulders, pulling her chest against my stomach from the height difference. “You have no idea how wrong you are about that, brat.”

“I don”t care if I’m wrong. I don’t care about you,” she seethed.

A chuckle vibrated in the base of my throat, a bitter, harsh sound. “Of course, you don”t. To you, I”m just a drunk bastard. Too low for the likes of a perfect noblewoman. But guess what, brat? I’m not drunk right now.”

The tension between us crackled like static, my magic buzzing all around us both, but hers was nowhere to be found. We were a collision of two worlds, nobility and low-class.

“No. You might not be drunk, but you’re still a bastard.” Her words were like a knife in the fucking gut. “Now, take your hands off me.”

I released her abruptly, a sarcastic apology tumbling from my lips with the bitter taste of my pride being wounded by her again. “I’m so fucking sorry for tainting you with my low-class, bastard demon germs.”

With that, I turned on my heel and stormed away, leaving the chaos of swirling books and a stunned Gravesend in my wake.