by V. F. Mason
“Indeed? That’s what he called himself? So much confidence. We should all take notes.” Students erupt in laughter at this, and he shares their amusement, which only adds to the fury boiling my blood. “And how does this information correlate with the myth? He sounds like he lived in delusions.”
“He didn’t call himself that. His victims, those who lived long enough to talk, called him that, and later, the police did too, because the nickname was fitting. He captured all those souls in his very own hell and then ended their reign.” I huff in exasperation. “He might be crazy for all I know. They never caught him, so it’s hard to judge his psychological state of mind, but he thrived in the darkness. I think on some level, he really deemed himself a Hades.”
I decide not to mention the countless newspaper spreads I’ve gathered over the years on him. I found his actions fascinating and somehow even excusable, considering he brought all those awful men to justice. Such thoughts usually scare me though, so I keep them locked deep down in my soul.
Murder is still murder, no matter the reason.
“What if he fell in love once and then decided to kidnap her? Because this is a myth. Myths are just that. Myths. I agree. But for some, it might be instructions on how to act. And in this case, the myth teaches that Persephone doesn’t matter.” I’m out of breath by the time I’m finished with that thought.
The entire class stares at me in shock, while Professor MacAlister cocks his head to the side, nodding as if agreeing, but then his words crush the illusion in my head. “Emotions have no place in critical thinking, Ms. Reed.” I frown in confusion. What? “Every person is responsible for their actions. And if someone uses myths as their guide to live this life, they need to see a psychiatrist.”
“And all the people who find his actions fascinating? Do they need to be locked up in a ward too?”
“Do you find his actions fascinating? Or do they horrify you? You said it yourself. The god might not have killed them, but he tortured them,” he fires back at me, and I still inside, despising how I can never lie worth a damn, but at the same time being grateful Professor MacAlister doesn’t know me well enough to know that.
“Of course they don’t fascinate me. I was just making a point how ancient myths might affect things in the modern world.”
He half listens to me, glancing at his wristwatch, and addresses us all. “The class has come to an end. Thanks to Ms. Reed, it was quite eventful.” A smile curves his mouth, and he winks at us. “Let’s hope it won’t happen again.” Everyone laughs, and he claps his hands together. “However, Estella brought up an interesting point, and I want to explore it by hearing all your thoughts, since we didn’t get a chance to have an ice-breaker discussion today. I think it will be a great introduction to all of you.”
My insides are already dreading what he might have come up with, because I’ll be on the receiving end of everyone’s hate should it be hard and time consuming. With midterms coming up, the last thing we need is more work.
“Instead of two more quizzes that are scheduled on the syllabus, I’ll give you a new assignment that will be worth ten percent of your final grade. Due in two weeks.” Collective groans fill the air, and more glares are sent my way. “You’ll write a paper on the following topic. How myths affect modern life, and what would you change in them if you could? Pick one myth and divide it in several blocks. I want original takes. Check your portals. I’ll write more details about it there. Class dismissed.”
Everyone jumps up, the conversational hums filling the room while I gather all my books and put the pencil inside my bag.
“Thanks for nothing, Estella,” Josephine says, passing me by. “Of all the days to finally speak, you had to choose today.” She pushes my shoulder slightly, making me drop my books on the floor, and to my astonishment, I snap back at her.
“Well, I’m a woman with a voice. It was bound to happen someday.” I lean down to get my books and dust them off.
She blinks, clearly not expecting me to reply, and then she grins slightly, taking me aback. “Well, you sure are.” She adjusts her bag on her shoulder. “Want to study in the library today for our midterm? We’re in the same philosophy class as well. Don’t we have a group project?”
Okay, did I wake up in some kind of different dimension, and no one told me about it?
Because this girl has ignored my entire existence since high school, although she has never been mean to me. Since our families did business together, we crossed paths from time to time at functions but never spoke.
And just now, she was flat-out rude to me… but still wants to do work together?
“Yeah. We do.”
“Did you choose your partner?”
“No.” No one I know goes to that class, so I wasn’t happy about pairing up with a stranger, while Josephine had guys lining up to be in her company.
“Cool. So it’s decided then. We can do it together.” Before I can even protest, she looks behind me and adds, “You can bring along your purple-haired friend as well.” With this, she walks down the stairs, not even bothering to stay to hear me agree, while Morgan blushes so hard as her eyes fill with wonder.
She’s had the biggest crush on Josephine since arriving, and the poor girl always stares at her longingly in the hallways, drawing her portraits in her notebooks.
“We’re going to go, right?” she asks, pressing her notebook to her chest, with hope shining brightly on her face and her blue eyes sparkling in happiness. “To study together?”
I hate studying anywhere but home; all the public places unnerve me too much to focus. However, how can I refuse now? Morgan would not get another chance to spend so much time in Josephine’s company—although I’m not sure if she even plays for my best friend’s team. Apparently, I have a group project to get to also. “Sure. Let’s meet there after our next class?”
“Sweet!” she exclaims and then hugs me, kissing me on the cheek, and I chuckle. “I even forgive you for this whole assignment the new professor pulled out of his ass.”
“This was hardly my….” My protest trails off, since she’s already rushed off to her other class, and I wince when everyone follows suit, blocking my exit, so I sit back on the chair, waiting for them all to leave.
I end up being the last to go down the stairs, and when the door closes behind the last student, I exhale in relief, taking in the silence falling upon me as thunder still echoes outside.
Tilting my head back as I stand there, I take several deep breaths, gathering the strength to attend one more class and hopefully keep my mouth shut there, or this newfound confidence would give me more work than it’s worth.
“Estella.” The husky voice close to me causes me to stiffen. Scorching heat wraps around me as every nerve in my body goes on high alert, and my eyes snap open to come face-to-face with Professor MacAlister, who hasn’t left the auditorium yet.
“I’m sorry, Professor. I thought I was alone.”
Fire blazes in his gaze at my words, and he steps closer to me, closer than a professor should, and a shudder rushes through me while a gasp escapes me.
He extends his hand, his fingers catching the strap of my dress, and he slowly, agonizingly slowly, slides it back in place. An onslaught of goose bumps pops on my skin, adding to the chaos with his name written all over it that’s burning inside me. “What are you doing?” I whisper, afraid of his action, but also afraid to add volume to my voice for fear of his ending it. This has no explanation but sets my soul on fire. “You shouldn’t have done that,” I say, placing my hand on my strap, stepping back, and he follows me.
For each step I take back, he takes one forward, until my back hits the wall. Hundreds of different thoughts and sensations confuse my mind, heart, and body alike, although one is the most prominent of them all.
What we are doing is wrong, and he shouldn’t corner a student like this.
I’m not running away though, right?
Instead, I’m standing still, watching him
rest his arm above my head while he glues his eyes on me. His whole attention is focused on me in this moment. The air hitches in my throat, his warmth sending signals to my body in ways that make it long to lean toward him.
The auditorium could be considered massive for how many people it can hold, but in this moment, nothing but his energy fills it, minimizing the space around us and blocking the outside world away, leaving only us.
“Shouldn’t have done what?” he asks, his finger trailing from my neck to my collarbone, earning himself another gasp as my stomach dips at the touch. “Touch you?”
“Yes.”
“I intend to do far more than that, darling.”
I close my eyes and shake my head; it must be a dream and not my reality in which my professor allows himself such inappropriate liberties right here in this auditorium.
Or rather that Ryder MacAlister finds me beautiful enough to utter such words.
“Look at me,” he orders, and I obey his command instantly. By the grin on his mouth, I know it pleases him, which thrills me in ways I can’t explain or describe.
He settles his open palm on my heart, which beats wildly as it welcomes his touch, and then he slips it up until it wraps around my throat. Arching my head back as he leans closer, his hot breath fans my cheek while his lips graze my chin, filling every cell in my body with pleasure from this small caress alone.
His fingers dig into my skin, not hard enough to bring me pain but firm enough to feel them with every breath I take. I’m filled with the knowledge that with just a little pressure he can cut off my oxygen all together.
He skims his lips over my cheek, leaving burning imprints on his way until he reaches my ear. Then he bites my earlobe, drawing a moan from me, and I put my hand above his, needing to rip it away from me.
However, deep down, I want to keep it here and see what he does next. Will it envelop me in even more heady sensations that promise me things I’ve heard about but have never experienced?
Finally, he whispers in my ear, each word holding a dangerous warning that urges me to break his command and see what he does if I do. “Do you know what happens to good girls who can’t lie worth a damn?”
He knows.
He knows I lied about my fascination and how dark thoughts cloud my mind sometimes to the point I want to run away and hide from them because they aren’t normal.
All thoughts fly from my mind though when he repeats the journey, this time in reverse, and his mouth hovers above mine. I open my lips, expecting the kiss, only to groan in frustration when he bites my lower lip, pulling at it, and biting it again but painfully this time. “Don’t ever lie to me again, Estella.”
And then his warmth is gone as he lets me go and steps away as we stare at one another. My chest rises and falls from the onslaught of emotions. Confusion sinks into my bones as I try to make sense of all this.
Slowly though, reality crashes into me along with the things I almost did—like begging him to continue, and I probably would have let him do whatever he wanted—while serving as his amusement.
Without uttering a single word, I race outside as a conversation with my brother from a few months ago pops in my head.
“Now that you’re going to college, we need new dating rules.”
My brows furrow at this, and I gape at my brother in shock.
New dating rules?
I never knew we had any to begin with, considering he just assumed I’m not interested in dating at all.
I laugh at Octavius’s words, but his eyes stay cold, and his expression holds a very familiar indifference, signaling to me he is dead-serious.
Digging my fork back into the steak, I calmly reply, even though I want to scream in frustration. Maybe I’m not interested in socializing after that awful date, but for him to dictate to me right now rubs me the wrong way.
“I turned nineteen last week, and I lived abroad on my own. Why do we need rules?” There is a bite to my words, and his brows rise; clearly, he didn’t expect me to challenge him on it. But then why would he, right? I’ve been nothing but compliant my whole life. Might as well put a neon sign on my forehead that says Doormat. “And besides, you can’t have a say in my private life.”
He leans back from the table, swirling the whiskey glass in his hand. The ice cubes bump against each other and echo in the stretched silence, alerting me to an upcoming storm. “Can’t I?” he asks, and I shake my head, which only earns me a twitch of his scarred cheek.
My heart squeezes painfully, reminding me of the horrible incident in my childhood where he had to save me from a vicious monster and instead got hurt himself, which resulted in a lifelong, angry, red slash that makes a lot of people shy away from him.
Especially women who love to whisper behind his back how no sane woman would ever willingly stay with him, despite all the money we have, because it means waking up to his face every single day.
Horrible, horrible women who make me so angry I sometimes barely resist slapping them all for saying this about my brother.
They’d be lucky to have him, those bitches.
The guilt sneaks inside me, wrapping tight ropes around me, and some of the bravado vanishes, because my brother might be a hard man to understand with all the rules he’s imposed on us both, but he’s been the only one who’s loved me.
The only one who cared about my well-being and ensured I had a good life. If it wasn’t for his resolve and control, butting into every aspect of my life, who knows where we would be right now?
His character saved us, and I can never forget it.
Shouldn’t I be more understanding and make it all easier on us both?
Besides, none of the boys my age seem that mature anyway or inspire any emotion in me, so a relationship doesn’t hold much appeal. Ryder dropping from the sky and appearing in my life does not seem like an option in the near future either.
Swallowing back the bitter taste in my mouth and washing it away with the glass of water, I say, “Trust me, Octavius, dating is really not on my radar right now.” This should sound reasonable enough for him to drop the issue and relax on the matter.
He gives me a hard stare and then changes the subject to something else, although he probably doesn’t miss the fact that for the first time I didn’t flat-out agree or promise him something.
Promise or not, it doesn’t change anything.
I might crush on my professor until I turn blue.
However, I’ll act as if this encounter never happened, no matter how much I wish to explore my reactions to him or crave for this man to teach me how to forget about anything else but him. I long for him to silence the world around us in ways I’ve never managed before but covet so badly that tears form in eyes.
Our relationship, or even a fling, would be too forbidden to survive, and my brother would destroy him.
The Four Dark Horsemen are ruthless, and my brother might be the cruelest of them all.
My professor wouldn’t have a chance against them, and I could never live with myself if anything happened to him.
So I’ll stay away and withdraw from this class all together, hoping that next semester everything will go back to normal, where nothing disturbs my boring and bland existence, and he’ll find another object of fascination.
And maybe… just maybe, this will serve as an antidote to the crush burning in my heart, so it can vanish into thin air, never to bother me again.
But even to my own ears, this sounds like a lie.
Don’t ever lie to me again, Estella.
To withstand it all though, I have to.
Although the truth might set me free, in my experience, truth never led to anything good.
And I can’t have one more life on my conscience, suffering because of me.
* * *
Ryder
The auditorium door closes after her, hiding her from my view, and even though the beast inside me roars its displeasure, I appease it by promising to hunt her down soon.
&n
bsp; Instead of following her to catch one more glimpse, I take out my phone and dial my brother’s number. “Yeah,” he says as he picks up, his voice groggy and disoriented.
He’s never been a morning person.
“You have to prepare for war.”
“What?” he says, this time stronger, and I know all traces of sleep are gone. I have Jaxon’s full attention. “What did you do, Ryder?” he asks in resignation.
“As of now, nothing.” As I slide my finger over the various books spread in front of me, containing the most ancient myths, I wonder how Estella sees them all in her own unique way. “Soon though, I will corrupt that innocent and sheltered little thing and then keep her as my own. So next time you see Octavius Reed, you can inform him about that.”
“Ryder, are you serious right now?” Since silence greets his question, I hear him mutter, “Fuck me.” And then he exhales heavily. “They are insane, brother. The things they do… it’s nothing like us.”
My amused chuckle reverberates throughout the room as I pick up my tablet and head to the door. “Trust me, Jaxon, whatever they do can’t be more insane than my past or present.”
And oh, how it pleases me that my very own Persephone knows about my deeds and has a deep fascination for them, even though part of her believes it’s wrong.
The desire must run in their family’s veins, considering what her brother does.
“Ryder….”
“You’re either with me on this or not, Jaxon. But I’ll pursue her no matter what.” I know he can read between the lines; he’s been preaching the value of family to me for so many years, and now he has the opportunity to back it up.
Can I take Octavius Reed on my own, and all his other friends?
Absolutely.
Can it be done without collateral damage involved?