Darksoul Read Online Free PDF

continued. “You were merely an unfortunate blip on the page.”
    “Say what you will ,” I said, clenching my teeth. “They’re still very nice works of art.”
    His eyes were cool gray orbs. “You always say your opinion as if I asked for it. I didn’t fucking ask for it.”
    I’d had enough. “Okay, I don’t know who stuck a pole up your ass, Slade, but you need to lay off it. I’m trying to tell you that this—what you turned in—is fantastic, and you sit there and offend me and curse me out. Well, you know what—”
    When I cut off, he waited, tattooed arms crossed over his chest and scarred fingers drumming a lazy pattern on his forearm. Despite the feather-light marks, it was admittedly the hand of an artist. An infuriating artist. An infuriating artist who made me want to stab a cow.
    Suddenly, I stood. “These are very nice, Ms. S,” I called over everyone’s chatter, collecting the damned paintings. I slapped them inside his portfolio—which, I noticed, was thick with our past assignments—and closed it. “Now make them go away. Let’s get back to class. Nothing to see here, folks. Move along, now. Move along.”
    A girl with braids and full, rosy lips came over and tried to catch a glimpse of them. I whammed the cover shut before she could open it and leaned into her face.
    “Move,” I hissed, “ along. ”
    Looking terrified, she scampered away.
    “Hazel, honey,” said Ms. Sanchez, coming around to get Slade’s art. “Everything all right?”
    “I’m fine.” Not.
    Two soft, nondescript words. How funny.
    I stiffened, and then sat . For the rest of the class, I ignored Slade. He’d decided to stay in the seat beside me and had my tablemate nearly fainting into her sketchbook because of his supposed good-looks. Be strong! I wanted to yell at her. Don’t fall prey to his charms!
    More than once, the damn silver tuft winked in and out of sight. It would skitter across my neck, slip down my arm, kiss my shoulder and caress my fingertips. But when I looked, there would be nothing; my hand would be untouched, the sleeve of my sweater would be as it’d been before, and nothing would be out of place.
    It didn’t feel unpleasant—in fact, it was gentle and warm, and tickled when it touched my skin—but I was so not in the mood for this crap. However cute and fluttery it might be.
    Then I made the mistake of casting a hateful glance at Asshole Slade.
    He was drawing in his sketchbook, his usually unreadable lips tilted up at one corner, as if he were trying not to smile.
    For some reason, that incensed me. “What are you laugh ing at?”
    He didn’t look at me. Eyes not leaving the beginnings of his current masterpiece and voice as cool as it’d ever been, he said, “I’m not laughing at anything.”
    But then the softest wink of silver touched my nose, fluttered down and kissed my chin. Frowning, I reached up to slap it away. There was nothing there.
    The side of Slade’s lips twitched. When he felt me giving him a narrow-eyed stare, he spared me a sidelong glance. “May I help you?”
    I turned in my seat, tightened my mouth, and ignored him for the remainder of the period.
    When the bell rang, I yanked up my stuff, zipped my book bag shut, and was out the door before my classmates had the chance to say, Wut? I exploded into the hallway and undid the knots of my earphones, plugging myself into my cello awesomeness.
    At my locker, I stowed away my math textbook and reached into my bag to get my sketchpad, then stopped when a piece of paper crinkled against my hand. I yanked it out and hissed when I realized that it was the drawing that Slade had sketched the first day.
    Ugh. Just holding it made me want to hurl.
    But against my better judgment, I unfolded it, not surprised by what I saw. My face stared back at me, expertly drawn, my brows twin flawless arches and my eyelashes so long that they obscured my eyes. I hated to admit it, but the bastard had talent. Capturing my model