Sherrilyn Kenyon - Infamous

“The mother beast sank her fangs into my hide for everything from forgetting to take out the trash last night to not brushing my hair enough this morning.” He didn’t bother mentioning the toilet-seat-was-left-up-again and pick-your-underwear-up-off-the-floor lecture. No need to horrify his girlfriend with anything that personal. “I’m still smarting from it.”

Her smile made his stomach jump. “Gotcha.” She tugged at the lapels of his hideously orange Hawaiian shirt that had oversized bottles of Tabasco sauce all over it. Another thing his mother insisted he wear because she had this mistaken belief it looked respectable and … brace yourself … “rich.” “New shirt, huh?”

He growled in response.

Laughing, Kody rose up on her tiptoes to lay a quick kiss on his cheek, in spite of the “no public displays of affection” laws that governed St. Richards. “Consider this a nag-free zone, and you rock the tacky shirt look in a way no one else can. Trust me. Only you could be that hot in something that foul. But you better hurry or you’ll be late for homeroom again.”

The bell rang a heartbeat later.

Nick cursed his luck as he dashed down the hall with Kody leading the way to their classroom. Just inside the door of their drab tan early morning prison cell, Kody pulled up short, causing him to skid to a halt.

Ms. Richardson, the meanest troll this side of the Nether Realm, clucked her shrewish tongue at them. With a sneer on her ugly face, she tapped at the cheap watch on her wrist. “I see you’re both late again. This is what? Your third tardy, Mr. Gautier? You know what that means.”

Oh yeah. After-school detention. And even better, more quality time spent with Richardson. Just the thing he wanted to add to his Christmas list—right after a vicious attack of intestinal misery.

Why couldn’t a demon come for him now and gut him? Suck him into some grisly hellmouth … That he’d actually welcome. Heck, after the morning he’d had, he might not even fight it.

Closing his eyes, he summoned his silkspeech powers for a solo try. “But the bell hasn’t rung yet.”

Richardson froze for a full second. Then she blinked. “I’ll see you at three o’clock.”

Crap. It hadn’t worked. Big surprise there. And it offered further proof that Richardson wasn’t human.

Irritated, he took the slip of paper from her hand while she glared at Nekoda.

“And you, Ms. Kennedy. One more and you’ll be joining Mr. Gautier’s after-school detention.”

“It’s pronounced ‘Go-shay,’” Nick said, correcting her “Gah-tee-aaa.” He hated whenever people mispronounced his name.

“Of course it is.” Could her tone be any more snide? “How could I forget that backwoods Cajun is a corruption and affront to the beautiful French language.”

And she despised Cajuns with a passion. Something she let everyone know, which begged the question of why the woman lived in New Orleans, home of the Cajuns. One of his ancestors must have run over her cat or something when she was a kid … nine hundred years ago by the looks of her.

At least that was probably the last time that thing she wore for a dress was in fashion.

In spite of the fact he knew he’d pay for it later, Nick gave her his most charming grin. “ Quoi d’autre?, cher.” What else, dear? “Laissez les bons temps rouler! ” Let the good times roll. The motto of New Orleans and his own personal credo.

He winked at her. Richardson was now fuming at him as he went to his seat behind Caleb, who was rolling his eyes at Nick.

Nick set his heavy backpack down on the floor, and couldn’t resist one last taunt. “Ain’t no Bouki here, cher . Me and my bele gonna pass a good time at lunch. It don madda to moi . I done brought me a boucanée gator po’ boy and some fraîche beignets for eats. Yum!”

The hideous grimace on her face was something she must have copied from a gargoyle. “That’ll be enough, Mr. Go-chay. Or I’ll add another day to your detention.”

Don’t do it. Sit down and shut up, Caleb said in his head.

But Nick couldn’t stop himself. “Go-shay,” he corrected her pronunciation again.

“What was that?” Richardson asked haughtily. “Oh, I know.” She narrowed her mousy eyes on him through her dark-tinted glasses. “The sound of another detention day added. I’m so glad I’ll have someone to clean my room for me tomorrow afternoon, too.”

Oh, he wanted to shove that smug smile down her throat.

Grinding his teeth, he sat down.

I told you. Didn’t I tell you?

He glared at Caleb.

Kody patted his shoulder before she went to her seat on the opposite side of the room. Stone turned around in his desk to mock Nick with silent laughter.

One day, you crotch-sniffing freak, I’m going to have the powers to send a shock bolt at you and watch as you lose control of your form. Yeah, that would be hilarious. Stone lying naked in the hallway, flashing back and forth from human to wolf form. And with any luck it’d make Richardson have a coronary.

Talk about a twofer …

Nick returned Stone’s glare. Though he physically appeared to be fifteen, Stone was a werewolf who, in actuality, was in his late twenties. Since Stone’s people didn’t age the way humans did, they were kept at home a lot longer before being sent to school, which was supposed to teach them how to interact with humans. But even with those extra years of home training, Stone wasn’t any more mature than a human teen.

Wait. What was he saying? Stone functioned on the level of a socially stunted five-year-old.

And Stone, because of his father’s money and the fact that he played on the football, basketball, and baseball teams, thought he was above everyone, and that all should bow down to him. In particular, he and the other animals he ran with had singled out Nick as the omega wolf to be picked on and belittled. In part because Nick, until he’d started working for Kyrian, had been a poor scholarship student. However lately, Stone’s animosity stemmed from the fact that his on-again off-again girlfriend, Casey Woods, had been making advances at Nick.

But Nick had never been Stone’s willing victim, and it was not in his genetic code to back down from anyone or anything. As a result, their fights were the stuff of legends among the student body and faculty.

As Richardson started calling roll, the door opened to admit two unfamiliar students with their principal, Mr. Head. Taking them to Richardson’s desk, the principal spoke in a low tone to her while the boy and girl swept nervous glances over the room.

“Must be new meat,” Stone whispered loudly to his friend Mason.

Mason nodded. “He don’t look like much, but the girl’s edible.”

“Mason!” Casey snapped as she turned around in her seat to grimace at him. “Stop it! You’re so gross. Both of you.” She paused to pass a hot look at Nick, who did his best to not react to it or let Kody see it.

Too late. He got that what-are-you-doing-Nick stare from Kody right before she shot a girl-I’m-going-to-pull-you-bald-headed-if-you-don’t-leave-my-boy-alone sneer to Casey.

Casey rolled her eyes at Kody before she flounced around in her seat and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

Oooo, not something he’d advise her doing, since he’d seen Nekoda handle a sword. His girl had no qualms about beheading things she saw as a threat.

Too bad Casey didn’t know that.

He still didn’t know what game Casey was playing with him. As the head cheerleader, she’d been Stone’s girl off and on for the last three years. But for the last year, every time Nick turned around, she was in his face, making passes at him.