by Katie May
His deep, raspy chuckle pulsates through me, conjuring up images of long, hot nights between the sheets. With his strong body hovering over mine, his lips descending on my own, his hands in my silver hair.
Karsyn’s inhuman growl clues me in to the fact that I’m giving Emmett blatant fuck-me eyes. Oh well.
“Peony, please,” Karsyn begs again, but Emmett talks over him.
“You’ll never let me live the Husky thing down, will you?” He drops an arm onto the table and rests his head on his open palm. It’s only then that I realize he doesn’t have any food in front of him. Unlike me, he must actually eat the atrocious cafeteria food. I feel bad that I’m keeping him from eating, but when his mischievous grin grows, I know that stale pizza is the last thing on his mind. “Maybe the Husky is my spirit animal because I’m actually a hussy. Something got lost in translation.”
I snort before I can contain the hideous sound. Mortified, I place a hand over my mouth as my core temperature ratchets up one thousand degrees.
Emmett throws his head back in laughter as Karsyn’s scowl deepens.
“That was fucking adorable!” Emmett roars, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.
“Why the fuck are you here?” Karsyn breaks in, but once more, we ignore him.
With a huff, Karsyn throws his large body on the plastic bench opposite me and crosses his arms over his chest, scowling.
Emmett and I exchange a droll look that basically says, “Can you believe this guy?”
Of course, Karsyn makes note of it and begins to mutter something under his breath. The euphoric joy I had seen on his face only an hour earlier, when he was with Mariabella, is nowhere to be seen. It’s almost as if I’m staring into the face of a completely different man. And while that one was sunshine and rainbows and glitter bombs, this one is storm clouds and lightning and actual bombs. I’m genuinely afraid he’s going to explode at any second, decimating the entire cafeteria in the process.
“You can get food if you want,” I say to Emmett as I pull out my own lunch. A simple sandwich with turkey, cheese, tomato, and lettuce, an apple, and a bottle of water. I once would’ve been super self-conscious to eat this in front of Karsyn. With every bite, I would’ve waited for his smartass quip about my body or weight. I would’ve wilted under his attention like a flower starved for sunlight.
But now? Fuck him. Fuck all of them. I’ll eat what I want, when I want, and if they have a problem with it, they can kiss my slender ass.
Karsyn appears to be in almost physical pain as he watches me lick my lips.
“Nah. I’m not really hungry.” Emmett kicks out his feet until they’re touching mine, and with a giggle, I press the toes of my foot against his own.
“Here.” I offer him the other half of my sandwich, which he accepts with a grateful smile. Those gorgeous dimples make an impromptu appearance as his green eyes sparkle.
“Yum,” he moans around a mouthful of sandwich. “This is delicious. Though…I’m sure it’s not the most delicious thing you can offer me.” His eyes very purposefully roam over my body, and another snort escapes me unbidden. I have no idea if his flirting is genuine or if he’s merely attempting to get a rise out of Karsyn, but I don’t care either way. Especially when Karsyn’s nostrils flare and his muscles tense.
Huh. Apparently even after all these years, Karsyn is still determined to make me a social pariah. I’ll never get laid again if he has his say. Maybe I’m just too hideous for his teammate.
“Peony, I really think we need—”
“Karsyn! Peony!” Mariabella’s familiar, elfin voice floats to me as she races towards the table like a tornado obliterating everything in her path. She really is a breath of fresh air, this girl, with her warm smile and cognac brown eyes glimmering with jovial mirth and excitement. She throws her arms around my shoulders, squeezing my neck in an iron vise, and I awkwardly pat at her hands.
“Mari,” I say, the shortened version of her name slipping out instinctively. Her eyes gleam once more as she giggles, sliding onto the bench opposite me and beside Karsyn. The man in question only grunts, narrowing his gorgeous hazel eyes at me as if it’s my fault Mariabella decided to join the group. Yeah, no. If he has a problem with our budding friendship, he should talk to his pretty girlfriend about it, not glare at me as if my mere existence acts as a personal slight against him.
“How has your first day been so far?” she asks with a decidedly nervous giggle.
“I’ve been hearing rumors that you’re some sort of musical prodigy,” Emmett adds. “You play the cello?”
“The violin,” I correct, acutely aware of Karsyn’s gaze boring a hole in my head. And now that I’m thinking about it, Lucas and Cassian haven’t looked away either. Oh, they’re trying to be subtle about it—a flick of the eyes here, a swivel of the head there, a suspicious glance here—but I can tell that I have their complete and undivided attention. Both of them have females hanging off their every word, but they act as if they don’t exist, as if nothing in this world exists except for me. And though they attempt to appear impassive, I can see panic radiating in Cassian’s gaze and bemusement intermixed with loathing in Lucas’s.
Yeah, right back at you, man.
“How long have you been playing?” Mariabella bats her eyelashes at me, and I swear, if it’s even possible, Karsyn appears even more annoyed. His eyes practically roll into the back of his head as he spreads out his long, toned legs and steeples his hands together on his chest. How he’s able to do this without a backrest remains a mystery. I’d fall on my ass.
“For years now,” I admit. “I got…bullied pretty badly when I was younger. Music was my escape from reality.” An escape from my pain. From the monotony of my existence. From the dissonant chaos of my life.
I find immense satisfaction in the rapid paling of Karsyn’s face. He looks as if he’s going to be sick, and I pray that if he vomits, he misses my shoes.
“Really?” Her face scrunches with confusion and sympathy, and I have the urge to snap at her, to remind her that she was around when her precious, perfect boyfriend made my life a living hell. But instead of saying any of that, instead of allowing Karsyn to see how much I actually care, I adopt a nonchalant frown.
“Life happens.” I shrug my shoulders. “But it’s kind of funny, if you think about it.” Glancing in both directions, like I’m about to tell them a secret, I add, “Years from now, they’re going to be the ones who suffer. Karma will come back to bite them all in the ass.”
Now, Karsyn’s face has taken on a green hue, while Emmett throws his head back in laughter. And Mariabella, sweet, innocent Mariabella, appears even more upset, her delicate brows cinched together.
“I’m so sorry, Peony. I had no idea.”
I wonder if that’s true—if her younger self truly lived a life of blissful obliviousness. But how could she not see the constant torture those boys put me through? How could she not notice that I was falling apart at the seams? That I was the one girl who never joined the cafeteria, in fear of what the guys would do to me?
Maybe she’s lived her life in a perfect, little bubble, surrounded by perfect, little people, but that doesn’t excuse her ignorance. If you see what’s happening and choose not to say or do anything, you’re just as bad as those who actually act on their twisted desires.
“Oh, shit.” I glance down at my phone, arranging my expression into one of abject horror. They don’t have to know that my phone is still currently off. “I need to get to my next class.”
“What do you have?” Mariabella asks eagerly.
“AP Literature with Mrs. Town,” I reply, and her face falls instantly.
“Oh. I have that sixth hour. But don’t you have that class, Karsyn?” She turns towards her boyfriend, who looks as if he wishes to be anywhere else. I bet he regrets coming to talk to me in the first place.
Asshole.
At Karsyn’s stilted nod, Mariabella’s smile returns, illuminating her elfin face. She�
�s pretty all of the time, but when she smiles, she transforms into something radiant and ethereal. She sort of reminds me of an angel you would see depicted on a stained glass window in church. There’s an otherworldliness about her golden hair haloing her cherubic face and her light brown eyes, brimming with an inner purity that’s absent in most teenagers.
I really, really don’t want to hurt this girl.
But aren’t there always casualties in war?
I just need to decide if I’m depraved enough to make her one.
“I have Calculus next period,” Emmett grumbles, effectively pulling me out of my inner musings.
Smirking, I rise from my seat and sling my backpack over my shoulder. “Ha. Loser. I tested out of that.”
“Oh, you bitch.” Emmett sticks his tongue out to show me that he’s teasing.
Mariabella’s smile curls downwards as she glances suspiciously between the two of us. After a moment, she shakes out her blonde curls and offers another tentative smile, almost like a peace offering.
“Maybe Kars can walk you to class?” Though she words it as a suggestion, her tone brooks no room for argument.
“Maybe,” I reply evasively. Before she can press the issue, I wave goodbye and head in the direction of my next class.
Chapter 7
Karsyn is a fucking bee.
You know the type—it flits around your head aimlessly, occasionally emanating a buzzing noise, but you’re too afraid to swat at it in case it’ll sting you.
As I walk to my fourth hour, I’m keenly aware of Karsyn nipping at my heels, but instead of a besotted puppy, I get an enraged, feral, ferocious mutt. More than once, he says my name, but I ignore him.
What can he possibly have to say to me?
Sorry?
It’s a few years too late for that, though I doubt the thought of apologizing ever crossed his mind. More than likely, he wants to reprimand me for returning to school after he explicitly told me I could never, not fucking ever, come back. They thought they got rid of the trash once and for all.
By the time I enter the AP Literature classroom, located opposite the cafeteria, Karsyn has resorted to disgruntled huffs and hisses, his scowl firmly etched into place.
Surprisingly, Cassian beat me to class and currently sits near the front of the classroom. That surprises me. He seems more like the back-of-the-class-to-nap type of dude. His eyes narrow when he catches sight of me, and his lips protrude into something that resembles a pout. Oh. My. God. The great Cassian Jereome is pouting like a petulant child.
I can feel his eyes on me like the caress of a spring breeze as I purposely sit in the seat directly behind him. This way, I can keep my eyes on him the entire class period, but he can only stare at me if he goes out of his way to. From the tendon bulging in his neck, I know he’s aware of my malevolent plan…and he’s not happy about it.
Karsyn sits in the seat beside mine, and I find myself boxed between two sexy as sin, and equally as wicked, men. They don’t bother to even acknowledge each other as they pull out their copies of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.
Cas is fucking fuming, but that only makes my smile broaden. Why is it so hilarious to see them uncomfortable? What does it say about me that I like watching them squirm?
When the tension becomes almost unbearable, stretching between us like the slime you can purchase in toy stores, Cassian finally spins around and levels me with an inscrutable stare. He always was the easiest to break.
“Why are you here?” he demands, scowling. This close, I can see the minuscule changes that have transpired over the years. Like Karsyn, he’s bulked up significantly, filling his long-sleeved white button-down and blue jeans impeccably. His black hair, a shade darker than his onyx skin, is buzzed short, accentuating the harsh planes of his masculine face. It’s no wonder women flock to him—he’s gorgeous. Even with the hatred I feel for him, I can admit that easily enough. There’s something about him that draws you in like a trap hidden beneath leaves. It captures your ankle, propelling you dozens of feet into the air, and you’re forced to dangle above the forest ground as you contemplate your own stupidity. And Cassian? He’s the definition of “contemplating your own stupidity.” He’s the type of man you could get lost in.
“Why, I’m here to study classic literature,” I taunt as I pull out my own copy of the current assignment. I emailed most of my teachers when I discovered I’d be showing up to the semester a month later than normal. Mrs. Town immediately sent a reading list for me to complete, as well as some sample essay questions.
“That’s not what I meant,” he growls through clenched teeth. He throws an irritated look in Karsyn’s direction, one I can’t read, before sitting ramrod straight in his chair. From this angle, I can see every rigid line of his back as anger cascades through him.
It’s really fucking funny.
“Do you mean why I’m here, at this school?” I lean forward until my chin rests on his shoulder. He tenses, the action almost imperceptible, and the tempo of his heart increases significantly.
“Yes.” He doesn’t bother to move his head to look at me, but we’re so close, I can discern the smell of his peppermint toothpaste.
Instead of answering, I simply pat his cheek before sliding back into my seat, kicking my legs out far enough to touch his. Keeping my eyes trained on the back of his head, I slowly run the toes of my shoes up and down his ankle. He freezes, hands tightening around his pencil, but doesn’t move away.
“Good afternoon,” a sultry voice proclaims as the classroom door opens and closes. I can’t help but notice that all of the guys—sans Karsyn and Cassian, who are still sitting as if they have poles up their asses—lean forward in anticipation, practically salivating, as the gorgeous teacher enters the classroom.
The gorgeous, redheaded teacher.
The gorgeous, redheaded, cock-sucking teacher.
Oh. My. Fuck.
Mrs. Town was the one I saw just this morning, her red lips wrapped around Cassian’s dick.
A laugh escapes before I can contain it, and Mrs. Town whips her head in my direction. She really is sexy, though it’s easy to see why I initially mistook her for a student. Her red hair hangs around her in shiny, voluminous curls. She’s also significantly shorter than a lot of women, coming in at barely five feet. With her clear skin, rosy red lips, and perfectly applied mascara, she could pass for just another one of Cassian’s groupies.
But she’s not.
She’s his fucking teacher, and she’s a Mrs.
She’s his married fucking teacher.
“Ms. Simone, do you find something funny?” Her voice carries a husky undercurrent to it that probably makes her irresistible to the male population. I see more than one guy grinning slyly in her direction.
“Nope, not at all.” I offer her my sweetest, most innocent smile. Her eyes narrow slightly, almost suspiciously, before she turns towards the whiteboard, stretching on her tiptoes to write in delicate scrawl across the board. The movement causes her blouse to rise up and gives the class a clear view of her perky ass in the pencil-skirt. I see one guy go as far as to adjust his boner.
I lean forward once more—noting from my peripheral how Karsyn’s gaze dips to my breasts brushing against the desktop—and place my lips against Cassian’s ear.
“Tell me, Cassian, are you hot for teacher?” I whisper breathily, and his head jerks to the side as if I slapped him.
“What?” he demands, voice nothing but a raspy brush of air.
“She must be pretty good at sucking cock… I mean, if she has a student lover and a husband, I would assume she is.” I shrug my shoulders and recline back in the seat before he can comment. But his eyes…they’re wide and wild with panic. He doesn’t even seem to notice Mrs. Town at the front of the room, eyes periodically flicking in his direction and expression growing more and more irate when it becomes apparent he’s not paying her an ounce of attention.
At this point, he’s not even bothering to hide th
e fact that he’s staring at me so intensely, I feel light-headed. He’s almost straddling the back of his chair.
“Peony…”
Before he can speak, before he can conjure up some lame excuse to explain why he would fuck a married, older woman, the door to the room opens and Elias Briggs steps inside. He exudes a nonchalant arrogance, as if attending a class like this is beneath him. His bored, honey brown eyes—a deep, earthy color that reminds me distinctly of autumn leaves—travel across the room almost absently before they pause on me. Then they widen into saucers as his mouth drops open.
Smiling softly, I lift my hand and wave my fingers at him.
Chapter 8
Elias looks exactly as I remember him—light brown hair, almost chestnut in color, hanging just beneath his jaw in shaggy waves. Only this time, purple streaks heighten the purple tint in his brown eyes. Of course, I know his eyes aren’t actually violet, despite what romance books will have you believe, but there’s a decidedly plum undertone to the rich brown. If I didn’t know he was completely and one hundred percent human, I would think he was some sort of witch. They’re the only species I know capable of having such a strange, enticing eye color. Combined with his leather jacket, black jeans, and combat boots, he’s a sight to behold. On anyone else, the different styles would make him look tacky, but it fits him so impeccably that no one would dare question his appearance.
He scrubs a hand across his whiskered chin before moving that same hand to his mane of hair—hair that I once ran my own hands through just the way he did.
His lips moved slowly across mine. Almost teasingly. With every swipe of his tongue against mine, I could taste the chocolate he had just eaten combined with his natural, pine scent.
I can feel his eyes on me—burning me, claiming me, possessing me—as he moves through the aisle and to the very back of the room. He didn’t bother to bring a backpack, unlike the rest of the class, so he merely throws his body into the plastic chair, gaze intent on my profile.