Eva
I stare up at Oak; brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you force him to go to Luigi?”
His bright aquamarine eyes meet mine, and there’s a mix of guilt and confusion in them. “Don’t question me, Eva.” I watch as his fists clench by his side. “Get to class. You’re going to be late.” His tone is cold.
I lick my bottom lip. “Is it because what Alexander said is true?”
He growls, hands moving to my hips as he pushes me up against a nearby locker. “What exactly do you believe he said that is true?”
My stomach flutters anxiously as I stare into his beautiful eyes, wondering what demons haunt him. Oakley Byrne is deeply tormented. The rage that often works itself to the surface is proof of that.
“That you have a crush on me,” I say, my voice sounding more confident than I expected.
His lips curl into a wicked smirk, one that makes dread sink like a lead weight in my stomach. “Is that what you hope, Eva?” His nostrils flaring. “That I want to fuck you?”
I shake my head. “You were hard when you”
His fingers wrap around my throat and squeeze, cutting the words off mid-sentence. “Don’t,” he growls.
I try to claw at his fingers, but he doesn’t let go.
“You are my pupil. That is all. Now get to class before I send you to Luigi.” He winces at the threat before releasing a hold on my throat.
I draw in a deep gasp of oxygen before scurrying away from him. For the first time since we met, I’m scared of him.
There’s always been this darkness surrounding him, but this was the first time I’ve seen it in action. I don’t speak again, rushing toward Professor Jameson’s classroom as rapid as I can without a glance backward.
I reach for my throat, the ghost of Oak’s fingers lingering. His touch differed from Alexander’, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying.
Someone has already shut the door to the classroom as I round the corner.
Great.
I walk up to the door and turn the handle, which draws everyone’s attention to me. “I’m sorry I’m late, professor.”
Professor Jameson scowls slightly. “Don’t let it happen again, Eva.” She nods to my seat at the front next to Azira, and I take it.
Azira frowns at me. “What happened to your neck?” She whispers.
I reach for it and wince slightly, finding it sore. “Alexander,” I say.
“Shit,” she mutters. “You’re lucky you aren’t in the infirmary. What happened?”
Heat coils through my veins as I meet her questioning gaze. “Byrne came along and stopped him.”
Professor Jameson claps her hands. “Girls, you are supposed to be reading The Tiger in the Smoke, not chatting.”
“Sorry, professor,” I mutter, grabbing the book out of my rucksack and placing it on the table.
I quickly flip to the page I was up to in the book and focus my attention on it. My heart is still frantically beating in my chest, not because of my run-in with Alexander Morales. I run my fingers over the place where Oak wrapped his palm around my throat, remembering the heat that surged inside of me.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
All I should have felt when Oak touched me so aggressively was fear, and yet my gut tightened and desire flooded my veins. When Alexander did the same thing, I was scared, yet I was scared when Oak did it but turned on too. It’s so confusing. It made me hot and bothered and unbelievably needy for him.
I try to focus on the words on the page, but they all blend into one. My mind is scrambled by what happened in that corridor. Not to mention what happened in the chapel.
Azira nudges me slightly. “What happened to your hands?” She whispers.
I glance down and see that she’s noticed the bloodstains. “Discipline class with Byrne involved me scrubbing blood off the chapel floor,” I respond quietly, making sure Professor Jameson doesn’t glance back up while I speak.
“Ew, gross,” Azira says, shaking her head. “I guess he didn’t let you leave with enough time to scrub the blood off you.” She leans closer to me. “Did he say who was involved?”
I shake my head. “No, just that two boys fought.”
She nods and flips her page in the book before glancing back at me. “I heard it was two kids in seventh grade.”
I raise a brow. “Where did you hear that?”
A slam of a hand against wood makes us both jump as we glance up at Professor Jameson. “What did I tell you, girls?” Her eyes narrow. “Do I have to seat you two separately?”
We both shake our heads in unison. “No, sorry, Professor,” Azira says before focusing her attention on the book.
“It won’t happen again,” I assure her.
She looks unconvinced, but waves her hand dismissively.
I glance down at the book’s page, but again, all I can think about is Oak. The way he acted in the corridor was both horrifying and exciting. Two things that shouldn’t go hand in hand, yet I’m quickly learning that with Oak, everything he does seems to get me hot and bothered.
I can’t work out if it’s because he’s forbidden or because, for some strange reason, I’m drawn to him, connected to him in a way I’ve never been with anyone.