Tarnished Vow: A Student Teacher Forbidden Dark Romance (Boys of St. Augustine Book 2)

by R Holmes

  "I've gotta go, gonna be late for detention and this shit is a one-time thing."

  Alec snorts, "Yeah we know why you've got detention Bash, she's lucky I’m crippled right now…” He trails off, grinning.

  "Shut the fuck up before your other shoulder becomes useless."

  "Promises, promises. Have fun, boy."

  Assholes.

  When I make it to the library that’s housing this evening’s detention, I see there's only two other students. I don’t know either of them, but I nod and take a seat at the table in the back and pull out my calculus book. I run my hands through my hair then down my face when I think about how bad my grades are suffering this year. This isn't like me. Yeah, we party… The Abbey's like a second home, and I practice and workout, but time management isn't the issue. It's like there's so much shit floating around in my head I can't focus; I can't concentrate worth a shit.

  We thought we'd walk into senior year and it would be the best year of our lives, yet here we are stuck in this perpetual hell of Ezra being in jail for a crime we all committed and we were absolutely helpless in getting him out. We're barely legal adults ourselves, and I don't have the cash at hand to post his bail without my father getting wind. Then, he'd snatch the shit away before I could blink. He uses my mother and my trust fund to control me, always has.

  "Sebastian?"

  I look up to see Presley standing over me with a frown.

  "Yeah?"

  "Can we speak… in private? I'd like to discuss your last paper with you."

  I already know what is coming. I failed that shit.

  Just like I failed the one before and ultimately would probably fail the one after this. Something about this class literature shit wasn't clicking in my head. When I went to put it down on paper, my words became a mess of jumbled thoughts and incomplete sentences that ran on for paragraphs. I knew it was shit, but admitting that to her wasn't going to help anything. I get up and follow her.

  "Have a seat." She gestures to the empty chair in front of the lone desk at the very back of the massive building. Her throat clears and I can tell she's nervous. I can read her body, probably better than she can which should scare the fuck out of me, but it just makes me annoyed instead. I didn’t want this attraction to her. I want to pass this class and stay in my lane, so I can graduate and get the fuck out of St. Augustine.

  "Is there a point to this… Ms. Ambrose?" The name rolls off my tongue like the taste of something rotten. I couldn’t prove her lies yet, but I would.

  "This is the third assignment you've failed, Sebastian." She pulls the paper from her folder and places it in front of me. The same scene that just transpired in her office not even two weeks ago, except this time I knew Presley Ambrose was a liar.

  "Sebastian, why are you not trying? You're bright and capable. I'm sure you are aware that you're at risk of academic probation if you continue on this path."

  I avert my gaze to any fucking where but hers, trying to combat the annoyance that is welling inside of me.

  "I'm trying to help you. I don't want to see you lose your spot on the hockey team, but you have to at least try."

  "You think I'm not fucking trying, Presley?" I hiss, leaning closer to her. Her pupils dilate and her breath quickens when I invade her space. A reaction from her body that she can’t control.

  She swallows thickly and whispers, "It's Ms. Ambrose. I'm not your friend. I'm your teacher."

  Her words lack conviction, and unlucky for us both I see straight through her bullshit. I could lay her back on this desk in front right now and have her coming on my face in less than five minutes. She'd never admit it, but the way that she sucks in a sharp breath when I lean into her, the way her pulse pounds wildly in the delicate hollow base of her throat, I see it all.

  I read her body like the same classic romantic books she preaches about, only I do it better.

  "Whatever."

  Her throat clears and her chin raises, "I'm not asking for anything you are incapable of doing, Mr. Pierce. You're more worried about your extracurricular activities than you are studying and assignments which are worth large portions of your grade."

  "You know what they say about assuming? It makes an ass out of you. Very unbecoming, Presley." A grin forms on my lips, one meant to taunt her, provoke her as she seems to be doing to me at this very moment.

  My eyes rake down her body in slow perusal, drinking in every inch of pale, milky skin and stopping on her ample tits. The shirt fits her like a glove showcasing each and every dip of her curves.

  "You could always tutor me. I mean… I'm a struggling student and I need a real personal touch to make sure I'm understanding the material. That is, unless you feel like you'd be unable to handle me."

  Another grin.

  Her face blooms red once more, clearly embarrassed by my heavily laced innuendos, and it makes me wonder... does she turn red everywhere when she's on fire?

  "I—" she starts, stuttering over her words and then stops and grits her teeth together, crossing her arms over her chest to block my view. "You are inappropriate. You cross lines like they don't exist." She laughs sardonically. "I guess for you they don't, do they?"

  My eyes scan the front of the room for the other two people who occupy the room, having forgotten they were even here while talking to her, and see they both have headphones in and are working on homework. Which I should also be doing, but this is way more fun than staring blankly at a calculus book for the next hour.

  I lean down, placing my hand on each side of her rickety desk chair bending down further and further until I have her full attention judging by the sharp breath she's sucked in. I take notice of it all. The way her chest jerks up and down with the small pants she takes, the way she goes rigid from me invading her space, the flash of desire in her eyes. The discreet way she presses her thighs together under her skirt. I see it all.

  "What the fuck's that supposed to mean, Presley?"

  She swallows visibly before speaking, "That you don't take life seriously, Sebastian, and why would you? It's obvious you get everything handed to you on a platter made of gold. The rich boy thinks he can skate by just because of who he is."

  I scoff. "Pretty bold fucking assumption, don't you think? You don't know me. You think you know me how? By what you think you see?" I drag my finger along the skin of her bare thigh, her breath hitching as my touch ghosts across the skin. Higher, lighter, a tease of what I'd really like to do. "Not everything as it seems, Presley. People have a way of pretending so the world can't see who they really are."

  Her eyes widen at my words and who knows if it's because of her secret she's so desperate to hold on to or if she's shocked that I'm not afraid to call her on her shit. Her face crumples in frustration and I want to run my thumb along the furrow between her brows.

  "You don't know shit so don't pretend for a second you know anything about me."

  With that, I jerk back upright and straighten my blazer, glancing to make sure we're still unnoticed.

  She clears her throat quietly, adjusts her and whispers, "That was rude of me, I'm sorry."

  I nod, but don’t respond to her half ass apology.

  "You have potential, I can see it in these words, Sebastian, I just don't understand why you don't apply that potential into something your future rides on."

  I let her words sink in, trying to decide if honesty is the best answer or if I should continue holding my truths inside. I don't fucking want anyone to know I'm struggling. Pierce men don't do anything half ass. My pride means more to me than anything, except the loyalty of my brothers.

  Neither of which concern her. I don't need anyone worrying about me. I’ve always been the only person to worry about me and I wasn't going to change because of a liar.

  "Thanks for the pep talk, Teach. Are we finished, or is there something else I can be of assistance with...." I trail off.

  Her eyes darken, the same fire and disgust returning after her moment of pity.

/>   "You're dismissed," she says then stands and hobbles off to the front of the room.

  Fucking dismissed.

  After the shit with Presley, the last place I want to be is in the general vicinity of my father. I would much rather he stay in his high rise in the city, with me miles a-fucking-way in St. Augustine but life likes to fuck me without lube, so I'm parking in the "reserved" parking spot at his downtown office. I sit in my car for a moment, debating on if it's worth it to leave and deal with it later, but ultimately decide to get it over with now instead of prolonging it until later.

  The building in itself is exactly what you'd expect from my father. Top of the line architecture, sleek, dripping of money in every facet. What better way to show off having more money than sense, if not on the building that everyone sees the second they drive into the city. I hated him more and more every day and that shit wasn't healthy, yet here we are.

  "Evening, Sebastian," Amelia, the building's receptionist greets me when I stride through front revolving doors. The lobby is quiet and as always, everyone seems to be in a hurry to go absolutely nowhere. I shiver when I think about my future that my father has planned for me in this place.

  I take the elevator to the top floor, where my father's office is, and shoot Amelia a wink before the door closes. When the elevator dings, signaling I've reached the top, the doors open, revealing my father's floor.

  The entire floor is his office. Tell me what the fuck one person needs an entire floor for, when he doesn't use half of it. Except to cheat on my mother that is. Asshole.

  "Sebastian, nice of you to stop by." My father walks out from the back office, then glances at his watch. "I see we're on Sebastian time today, glad your schedule would allow you this meeting."

  And here we go.

  "Sorry, had class. You know… at the boarding school you send me to."

  His lips pucker in a scowl. Daddy dearest doesn't like when I talk back, which makes me want to do it even more in spite.

  "Let's get right to it then. I have a dinner commitment within the hour." He opens the glass door to his office, gesturing me inside before him. "Oh, Grace please hold calls for the next thirty minutes."

  His receptionist was barely out of high school herself and was about as bimbo as they came. She giggled in response.

  Fucking giggled.

  But we all know she wasn't here to actually work, she was here for completely different reasons.

  I stroll into his office and walk over to the bookshelf where he keeps various awards and trophies, running my finger along the bronzed metal as he takes his seat behind the desk.

  "You're interning in the New York office during break."

  "Nope." I let the p pop, not even offering a glance his way. My patience and willingness to pleasure my father lessened each time I was subjected to this bullshit. Coupled with the fact he continues to hurt my mother and what I really wanted to tell him was to go fuck himself, but I know my trust fund hangs in the balance.

  I had to be somewhat amicable if I was ever going to get the money and get my mother out of this shit.

  "It's not up for discussion, Sebastian, you will. I've already begun to set it up with Will, and he's working on the paperwork and various meetings that will need to take place.”

  "No can do. I have too much schoolwork, you know, homework and shit."

  He scoffs. "Right, just like the English class you're miserably failing, right son?"

  Fuck, how does he know about that?

  He must see the surprised look on my face because he answers the question I asked myself. "Grades are posted online, and rightly so since I know you'd never update your mother or I on anything. You spend too much time partying, Sebastian, and it stops today."

  My eyebrows raise. I abandon my exploration of his shelf and walk over to the desk, flopping down into the chair across from him.

  "I haven't been partying, I've just been busy."

  I lock my jaw, grinding my teeth together to stop myself from saying what I really would like to. That he's a piece of shit asshole and if he ever puts his hands on my mother again… well, then he'd better fucking hit me. I don't want to make the situation worse for her, and I know that it would.

  "Bullshit. You're partying, drinking, sleeping with half the town. People talk, and the Pierce name is not going to suffer for your transgressions."

  "Oh, my transgressions? That's funny seeing as how the entire fucking town knows that you have a mistress that's my age."

  He stands abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor. His face is beet red, and it looks like he might pop a fucking blood vessel. "Shut your mouth, Sebastian and remember your place. Next up, I'm taking your credit card and the keys to your beloved Range Rover. How about that?"

  I want to scoff in his face and tell him he can have the fucking thing as much as he holds it over my head.

  "Get your shit together. Bring the grade up, because if you fail this class and jeopardize your admission into Yale, I assure you, you will see just how bad I can make things for you. You're spoiled and entitled."

  I laugh. "Do you even know me at all? Do you even know who the fuck your son is?" I stand and face off with him across his desk. "You don't. You couldn't be further from the fucking truth. But, in the effort to protect my mother, I'll handle it. Don't touch her again or I assure you, my grades and ability to embarrass the Pierce name will be the least of your problems."

  Without another word, I turn on my heel and leave, slamming the glass door so hard it echoes throughout the office. Grace stares at me from behind her desk, mouth agape, eyes wide.

  "Do me a favor, next time you wanna fuck guys your father's age, you choose someone that isn't mine."

  Fuck him, and fuck this place.

  7

  Presley

  "Stop!"

  I shoot upright in bed, clutching my chest, gasping for air as the familiar wave of fear and panic seize my entire body. My eyes still full of sleep, I can hardly make sense of my surroundings. Only when I realize I'm still at home, tucked into my own bed safely do I sag against the headboard, desperate to catch my breath.

  It was just a dream. Only a dream.

  It didn't feel like a dream. The erratic beat of my heart doesn't slow. The shallow breaths my lungs plead to take paired with the heaving of my chest, makes it feel that much more real. Every nerve ending is alive. I feel the hands around my throat, cutting off my ability to breathe. I can smell the old leather and oil, see the bookcase adorning the wall.

  It reminded me that no matter where I go, no matter where I run, I'll never be completely safe. I'll never truly be able to lay my head down at night and not fear the devil who haunts my dreams. I can run across the world and I'll never escape him.

  My eyes dart to the glowing clock on the bedside table, showing it's only three-thirty. There's no way sleep will ever come now, so I might as well start the day. I throw the covers back shakily, and place my feet onto cold hardwood, careful of my still sore ankle. Slowly, I make my way to the bathroom, stepping inside to turn on the water and wait for it to warm up. I catch my reflection in the small, semi rusted mirror of the bathroom and take notice of the dark purple, blue bags under my eyes that resemble bruises.

  Ironic after the dream that shook me to my core, the same dream I have had every single night for months. Stopping only after months of therapy and coming to terms, truly accepting the part of my past that was never going to go away. I know that even ten years from now I might still jump at the slam of a car door, or feel like someone's watching me as I walk through the vacant aisles of the grocery store. But now I know it's learning to live with my past and knowing it doesn't define my future.

  The steam from the now scalding shower billows around me, partially starting to fog the mirror and obstructing my reflection. A reflection that reminds me of the person I used to be. Lately I feel like it. Like I'm running on an endless loop, never able to stop and rest for a moment.

  I'd be lying to m
yself if I didn't acknowledge the fact that Sebastian probably has a lot to do with the reason I'm dreaming it again. He's invaded my quiet, peaceful space and shaken it, provoking the dormant part of me. I wouldn't admit out loud the feelings that have laid dormant in me for so long, the fact that he's awakened a side of me that I thought had been lost forever. I'm forced to face the fact that there is this undeniable attraction to my student, and I don't know how to stop.

  While part of me feels dirty for being tempted, the other part feels dizzy with the lust blooming inside of me little by little until I’m full of a feeling that is completely foreign. Imagine two magnets dancing around each other in a way that only force fields could procure, so close but never enough to fully grasp on to one another.

  My mind drifts back to our last conversation in the library where detention was being held. I should've known better than to find myself alone, in a position to be tempted, but he was disrespectful and inappropriate and he deserved it after the way he embarrassed me purposefully in front of the class. Gripping the sink, I suck in a deep breath and try to push the thoughts of how his arms, full of thick corded muscles caged me into my seat, his breath mingling with my own.

  I can still feel the furious pounding of my racing heart as he leaned closer, his full, sensual lips just a breath away from brushing with my own. Even as he spoke to me in a way that was completely unacceptable, my thighs pressed together of their own accord to suppress the ache in my core.

  The same ache that I'd suffer through before I ever acted upon my feelings. There was too much at stake, my life was at risk from a temptation I can’t afford to gamble with.

  My hands still shake as I pull the T-shirt over my head and toss it into the basket by the door.

  Only now, it's for an entirely different reason.