Bad Blood: An Academy Romance Series (Reverse Harem) (The F My Life Series Book 1)

gallant way. The way of gentility.
He glows in the firelight. If I were to describe Riven, I would use the word beautiful, but in the way a statue is beautiful… cold. Untouchable.
He snaps the book in his hand closed, places it back on its shelf and gives me a friendly smile. Or what passes as friendly.
“Jean-Claude, my old friend.”
“What do you want?” I grouse.
His smile grows wider and his eyes crinkle. That intense, non-blinking stare gives me the feeling of being a bug under his microscope, only I know he can’t actually see my face. My long, black hair hides me well, but even if it didn’t, my features are masked in shadow, making certain no one can see my face.
“Thank you for coming. I am most humbled.”
Humbled my canine teeth.
But as always, Riven is a stickler for custom, protocol and all the trappings of higher society. He bows his head and motions in a polite gesture to the chairs in front of the fire.
I let out a sigh. “If this meeting is going to take that long, then warm up some ‘O’ neg.” And may my own grace see me through the visit. Riven’s code of decorum is longer than a vampire’s list of prey. A visit with him takes hours just to get to the heart of things.
We sit. Riven moves slowly and smoothly. Thank a heartbeat for small mercies. He’s versed in every type of creature that has ever graced the Academy of Necromancy, which is quite possibly all of them. But it also means I don’t have to reign in my vampire instincts with an iron fist. He understands the nuances of the vampire quite well—knows what we need to feel safe, in control and keep from setting off our inherent bloodlust.
Firelight cascades off the walls, highlighting the fleur-de-lis pattern in soothing arrangements, and my eyelids grow heavy. It’s no surprise I can hardly keep awake. The middle of the day is an un-godly hour for a vampire to be conscious.
Riven waits in silence, but I feel the weight of his intense stare. And I know what it means.
“Don’t, Riven,” I mumble.
“You have new hurts.” His voice is melodic and kind. I feel the beginnings of him siphoning off my pain—something to which I put a curt end.
“Hurts which are my own. Stop trying to save the world.”
Our old discussion lulls me into a pattern we weave during each visit.
Riven might be a shadow demon, but even he needs to release his collection of gathered pain, and he doesn’t need mine on top of those he already soaks in. Imagine having to absorb teenage angst as each student tries to find out who they are, what they mean to each other and how to stay alive among raging hormones. No wonder shadow demons are often ticking time bombs. It isn’t their fault really. They are born in such a way. When they are in human form, they suck in all the world’s hurts deep inside themselves. They take, and take, and take, until the agony is too great.
When the pain becomes too much for Riven, he walks the great expanse of Dread to the wastelands where nothing grows, where no one resides, and expels his collection of un-ease. Far from everyone, none get hurt. If he overextends himself, he’s like a boiling pot of malaise. Doesn’t matter if he’s in human skin or not, school is cancelled because everyone naturally avoids the academy if he’s overflowing with lassitude.
But today Riven isn’t spewing malady. In fact, his skin glows with renewed energy, like a recharged battery ready for work.
“Jean-Claude?”
I open my eyes. A goblet is offered under my nose, and I take it. Damn. How long was I out? The proffered cup has the blood type I asked for, but I am uneasy about being exposed. Sleep is the only time a vampire is vulnerable.
“Out with it. What do you want?”
His head is bowed, hands loosely clasped together, but his posture is proper, and those inquisitive, intimidating eyes never blink. “Do you recall the time when you asked me to take over this academy for you?”
Riven’s question is soft, but his words hold power. I wait for dramatic pause, then chuckle deep within my throat. “So, I’m finally going to be able to repay my debt?”
We don’t have a running tally, but important favors always start with him saying something along the lines of remember the time I took over before you ate all the students in your school?
Riven doesn’t move, but restless energy infuses the air, all the same. “Do this favor for me and I will never bring the subject up again.”
That gives me real pause. I examine my friend for a long beat. The stiff formality I took as his usual polite custom now registers as anxiety. This is important.
“So you haven’t just brought me out into the day for your convenience?”
His laugh is a sigh and a tremble in his shoulders. “No, Jean-Claude. The matter at hand is of utmost importance… though I do apologize for the hour.”
“Please, Riven.” I hold my hand out in supplication. “Do not tie me to our usual waltz. I am much too tired for it. Tell me what you want.”
A new type of disquiet ripples the emotions in the air. His stare laces with concern, and his tone is now a forced lightness. I can see his words forming on the tip of his tongue before he speaks. “Are you well?”
No mercy for me. He’s going to draw this out for propriety’s sake. Fuck. “Fine,” I snarl. “I can sleep in this chair. I’ll wake when the sun is down. Then we can talk.” I lay my head back on the high-backed wing and close my eyes. I leave the cup in my hand, knowing