Troublemaker

P rofessor Viscounte is literally the worst. He runs his Kitchen Lab as if he’s that screaming human from their cooking channel, and when I didn’t submit to his suggestions on my dishes, he locked me in the fucking freezer for an hour. When I got out, he’d taken over my station and completely ruined the shit I was planning on serving for the caliphate’s dinner. I wouldn’t serve a hellhound the trash he left simmering on my stove, so it all had to be tossed at the end of the session.

Unfortunately, that means whatever Kit did in our room will dictate how late dinner is—something Jasper will blame him for despite my protests.

I’m muttering under my breath angrily when I use the runes to open our door, but it stops when I see what’s happening inside. I shake my head to clear it quickly, then shut the door behind me, leaning against it as I watch. Kit’s standing on a chair with his back facing me, wearing a dark baggy shirt tied at the spine, baggy shorts, and one of my aprons as he peers down into the pot to stir carefully.

Nothing about that image should be attractive—I can barely see a stripe of pale skin at the knot—but the way he’s humming under his breath with the headphones in his ears, oblivious to everything, is cute as fuck. It helps that the scents wafting from my kitchen smell as if he’s completing his work to the letter, which means we have some of dinner salvaged.

That’s surprising given the ingredients, but Kit isn’t phased by shit like that, it seems.

I watch for another moment or two, grinning to myself as he shimmies on the chair. That’s when the kinkajou spots me, chittering and waving her tiny paws at my roommate and blowing my cover. I wait until he pulls off the headphones and whirls around, looking at me with narrowed eyes. “Hey, dude. Having fun?”

“Sort of,” he mutters with a shrug. “I did little cooking at the last house; my foster mom, Allison, was a control freak. At some prior foster homes, I did a shit ton of work, but nothing fancier than burgers or whatever. This is oddly soothing—I follow the instructions, I watch the food, and I get results.”

Nodding at his assessment, I drop my bag near the door and head over. “You seem to be doing okay for the first time alone. Mind if I go change?”

Kit shakes his head. “Nope. I’ll hold down the fort with my stuff and when you get back, you can see if I fucked it up. It’s possible, you know.”

It is, but my nose says it’s not the case.

I head into my room, closing the door as I strip off the sweaty clothes from the hot lab. After Gastronomy this morning, I used the break to change and set up all these lists for Kit. I knew the guys would be hangry as fuck after the long day and when I heard through the group chat he stormed out of Arms class, I figured he might hide rather than come here or the cafeteria. Jasper’s bullshit and that idiot stinky cheese kid probably pushed the kid’s boundaries well beyond his limits.

At least Slash found him and set him up with the Doc. I couldn’t decide if I was surprised or not when I found that out during the lectures, but I’m glad about it. Kit looks like he’s recovering well; if he hadn’t, I would have held our Prince to account myself. His behavior is getting increasingly erratic and illogical with our new initiate; I’m tiring of it.

“Enough brooding, Salem. You’ll turn into Oriel,” I tell myself as I rummage through my drawers to find a pair of university sweats and a vee neck tee. Leaving my feet bare, I tousle my hair a little and apply some much needed deodorant, then head back to the kitchen.

Kit looks up, smiling as his hair flops in his eyes. “Took you long enough. I was going to send Dottie in to check on you soon.”

I chuckle as I walk up to the counter and his familiar rushes over to offer one of her grapes. The guy next to me doesn’t know it, but that’s one of the best things that a bonded animal can do to show trust—present you with some of their food willingly. It means his little beast likes me and wouldn’t make a fuss if I get any closer to her person than I do now.

Shoving the grape up Jasper’s nose doesn’t count; it was a deliberate snub, and he knows it.

“Thanks, shorty,” I say to the small rodent as I pop the fruit in my mouth. “You’re the bomb.”

“I made everything you said in the notes—which really helped, so thanks—but you didn’t come in with trays from your class.” Kit tilts his head curiously. “What happened?”

My rueful expression makes him groan and I throw my hands up. “I know; I know. But the fuckface little weasel running my lab ruined all my shit while I was being punished by freezing my nuts off.”

He frowns, thinking about it for a moment, but then he does something I couldn’t have predicted. Kit jumps off of the stool, rushing over to me before he runs his hands up and down my arms. His expression is full of concentration as he nudges me until I spin, lifting my shirt up to look at my inked back, then turns me again to grab my hands. I stand there, letting him inspect my fingers, my toes, the tips of my ears, and everywhere he wants until he finally steps back.

Then I see the panic and fear in his eyes and I know; he’s known someone who got punished that way before.

“I, uh, I’m sorry,” he says, flushing bright red as his pulse slows from the hammering thrum it was as he examined me. “I didn’t mean to overstep; I just…”

“You were worried about me,” I say in a low voice, moving closer as he backs away. I’m not sure what I’m doing, but the primal parts of me have plans. Kit swallows hard, continuing to back up until he’s trapped against the counter with nowhere to go. “Because you know what happens when someone’s locked in a freezer.”

“I…I…” He blinks up at me and I can feel the fear rising from him, but the scent that comes with it doesn’t match. Our new floor mate smells like pheromones, which the demon and the panda both like. “Yes. I know. But… um. It wasn’t… me.”

At least I don’t have to hunt anyone down now. That’s comforting.

“Was your… friend… hurt afterward? Is that why you learned where to check?” I lean, whispering my question in his ear as I inhale the scent of food and desire with a rumble of happiness.

Kit’s hands land on my chest, provoking another growl that makes him squirm a bit. “Yes. I… He got hurt because they didn’t take him to a hospital when… But, um, they removed him not long after. I just… I had to know what to check afterward.”

Pulling back, I smile softly at him. He acts like he has a stick up his ass, but it’s a front. Kit Camponella cares a lot about people, but he’s learned they aren’t permanent.

Being one of us is, and I’m going to help him realize that if it kills me.

“You’re an odd duck, Kit Kat. Yes, I know Annie and X use that, but I like it.” I smile as he looks up at me with wide eyes full of uncertainty. My hand comes up to push the hair out of his face, tucking the longer part behind his ear. “Am I making you nervous?”

His head shakes, then he nods, then he shakes it again. Finally, Kit croaks, “I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” I reply, humming a little of the song he was singing when I came in. “Good to know. I’d prefer it if you didn’t get scared when I touch you, but trauma is a funny master. It pops up even when you don’t want it to, huh?”

Kit’s lashes flutter as he looks down and I’m slightly entranced by how thick they are. I’m certainly pan, so this attraction isn’t weird, but I rarely get distracted from cooking by… anything. I watch as he swallows, then licks his lips slowly. When he lifts his gaze to mine, I almost push forward. But the slight tinge of confusion on his delicate features gives me pause.

No. it’s definitely not the time to rush and make him panic.

“I think we should get to prepping the meat, don’t you?”

The disappointment that flitters over his expression before he nods makes the demon inside of me purr with happiness. Whether he knows how to deal with it or even wants to admit it, my new roomie is interested in exploring with me. I’m not sure he has a damn clue about what we’d explore—other than a clinical knowledge because he’s not an idiot—but he wants to find out.

“Y-Yes. Yes. We should, uh, check the sides, and um… what we’ll be… making now?” he almost squeaks as I pull back to give him room to collect himself.

A low chuckle escapes my lips and I wink at him, turning to walk over to the fridge. My tail is doing its thing behind me, sleek and duotone in demon form because I’m aroused. I know it will intrigue him because of how he acted in class earlier in the week, so I don’t hide it. Curiosity is a good thing when he’s going to find out a hell of a lot more than how big my cock is if we go any further in the future.

Demon hybrids come with a lot of surprises in the bedroom.

“Salem?”

I look over my shoulder at him before answering. “Yes, Kit Kat?”

“Did you think the ingredients were going to make me freak out?”

His lopsided, knowing grin hits me in the gut, and I have to swivel back to the fridge before he sees the flashing of my eyes. Kit is ridiculously adorable when he’s frumpy and mussed like this—something I have a hard time resisting, no matter who evokes the feeling. The guys say it’s part of the panda thing, but I’m not so sure. Non-shifter pandas in Kit’s previous world aren’t super bright, despite being very good at looking cute.

“I did, but I wasn’t being mean. I hoped that you’d get over it so we could cook together. It’s nice having someone in my space to talk to.” I look at him again, my cheeks flushing this time. “I didn’t actually know I felt that way until you were here, by the way. The guys have always given me a private room because I’m impossible to live with.”

Kit frowns, his face screwing up in confusion. “That’s weird, man. You’ve been cool to me the whole time. In fact, you were the first one to not be a super dick.”

Pulling out several types of meat, I walk over to the counter and spread them out on the cutting boards. As I work, I consider his words, glad he didn’t press for me to respond right off the bat. The various slabs of meat get sliced and ready within minutes, so I move to gather up some shit to make quick marinades.

“Well, I probably deserved the label the other times,” I admit. “I’m a tyrant in the kitchen, though I guess since you’ve been so easily taught and respectful, that didn’t come out. I snore like a buzz saw—they say—and I have trouble staying awake, so roomies in my classes get mad about alarm clock duty.”

Kit scratches something on his face, smearing some of the flour from his bread duty on it. He doesn’t notice, just keeps kneading the dough as he replies. “I don’t hear the snoring ‘cause I wear sleep headphones. I can’t sleep without the silence, though, sometimes I can’t sleep with it. You haven’t noticed my insomnia pacing, which is pretty cool, and I’m fine with you running your kitchen. Being a foster kid meant nothing was ever really mine in common rooms, so I’m used to following other people’s rules in that regard.”

This fucking guy… he’s like a giant of ball of contradictions and mysteries. I fucking love it.

“Then we make a good pair, Kit Camponella,” I say with a grin, and he ducks his head to study the dough intently. “But then, you do well with my friends Oriel and X as well.”

His head jerks up and he looks surprised, then the red color intensifies on his face, spreading to his neck. “They’re, um… They’re nice, too. Not like the fuck faced Prince, I mean.”

Laughing as I plop the meats in the various bowls to soak, I arch a brow. “No one in the history of Hell has ever called Oriel ‘nice.’ He’s even more reclusive than me, normally. X might be a different story—he and Anton are our social butterflies.”

Kit rounds the counter, then bends to get into the cabinet with the baking sheets. “They’re very welcoming, even when they’re trying not to look like it. I knew at the first meeting they wouldn’t be as bad as they tried to project.”

Huh. That’s unusual—Annie and X are fucking fantastic at shielding.

“Who did you worry about afterward?” I ask curiously as I watch him pop the breads into the ovens.

“Jasper, of course. Slash. I wasn’t sure about Zavida, but he’s shown his true colors.” That sentence is punctuated with a sniff of disdain as Kit moves back to his chair, standing on it to get a better view of the shit he’s working with. “Though maybe I was wrong about the big guy, too.”

I blink, my jaw dropping as I stare at the half-human methodically peeling and chopping fruit for the dessert. “What?”

“He’s been a decent being to me now three times, and statistically, seven times can change an opinion. I’m half-way to thinking he’s not a goddamn mindless toadie. Only time will tell.”

Slash only mother hens people he really likes… and it’s never dudes. Hearing he’s been secretly doing shit for Jasper’s least favorite floor resident is like giving the dude a fucking medal. I’m shocked as shit and I have no idea what to do with that information.

All I know is…Kit Camponella must really be something special.