Page 3 of Broken by my Bully (Lessons in Cruelty Dark Academia #1)

Haven

I’ve never been inside a lecture hall before. It’s not huge, but it still feels intimidating as hell to be shoved into.

The professor’s chalk screeches over the enormous blackboard as he turns to look at me. There’s a soft chuckle somewhere in the crowd of students, then a giggle. Probably because I look like a loser.

My shaking body switches to autopilot, sending me back to the floor. Literally seconds after Kai’s hissed threat, I’m already on my knees.

But only to collect my things off the floor.

I tug the two halves of my cardigan closed and hurry to the closest seat, my cheeks burning from the millions of eyes on me, and my notepad held to my chest like a shield.

“More interruptions?” The professor lifts his chin like I’m a baby animal that just wandered obliviously into his den.

Kai was right. This professor does not seem impressed with me at all.

He taps his chalk against the board, addressing the rest of the class who showed up on time. “See how easy it is to summon the devil? ”

An outright laugh, some giggles, and another few chuckles break out, which I’m sincerely hoping aren’t aimed in my direction.

I plop down on the seat as the teacher drags his chalk under the word written on the board. As soon as I read what it says, my eyes want to bug out of my skull.

LUCIFER

Um…what?

Did I fall down a rabbit hole? Or did Kai bang my head so hard against the wall that I got a concussion? I swore this was supposed to be a social studies lesson.

Oh shit.

The help desk lady said the second door on the right, right?

What if I’ve just joined some random theology lesson?

If so, I should add it to my electives

Are all college professors so devastatingly handsome and mouth-dryingly stern? He’s tall, like six-foot-something tall, with a runner’s build, a dark crew cut, and a touch of silver at his temples and sprinkled through his thick eyebrows.

I never thought I’d think this way about someone in a dark tweed jacket with patches on the elbows, but…damn. Why wasn’t I born ten years earlier when even the thought of dating someone like him wouldn’t have been wildly inappropriate?

He studies me for a beat before turning to add another word to the board.

EFFECT

He draws another line under that and keeps scrawling.

Prof Rooke - Lessons in Cruelt y

I breathe out a slow breath through pursed lips.

Thank Lucifer.

“For the lady who’s so fashionably late, she even missed yesterday’s class—” Professor Rooke taps his chalk against his name, staring straight at me. “I do not enjoy repeating myself. Which you would know if you had bothered to show up yesterday.”

“Sorry,” I call out. “My phone died, so I only got the text?—”

He cuts me off with a deadpan, “I doubt a first year can come up with an excuse I haven’t heard before.”

He sweeps his hand to the cluster of students sitting in front of the lectern, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t shout. Move closer.”

I scramble up and pick my way through the empty seats to where he pointed. A girl around my age with a sleek red bob glances at me, but she must keep her flawless face in the freezer overnight because not a muscle moves, even after I give her a timid smile.

My eyes dart back to the lecture room door. I can still feel Kai’s hand between my shoulders, shoving me inside.

…you’re gonna regret coming home…

What the actual fuck just happened? I’ve seen Kai on a bad day. Like a really, really bad day. That came nowhere close to what I just witnessed outside.

What the hell’s happened to him? Is he on crack?

“What is cruelty?” Professor Rooke’s voice demands my attention return to him, and I do my best to keep it on him.

His eyebrows shift up when the class remains silent.

“What, no one’s going to pass off a Merriam-Webster definition they’ve Googled on their phones? Color me shocked,” he says dryly, as he picks up a paper coffee cup from the corner of the desk near the lectern.

There’s a satchel thrown haphazardly over the table, a neat stack of A5 spiral-bound notebooks, and a laptop neatly positioned in front of a chair behind the desk.

He takes a slow sip from his coffee cup, languidly scanning the class before his gaze reaches me. This close, I can see dark irises, specks of silver in his closely cropped beard, veins standing proud from the back of his pale hands.

“Is it cruel of me to enjoy this cup of warm, rich coffee in front of all you woefully un-caffeinated students?” He addresses everyone in class but those eyes remain fixed on me.

I swallow hard. “Um…I guess not. We could have had coffee if we’d wanted?”

“Pity you weren’t here yesterday when I told my students that I don’t allow any eating or drinking in my class,” he says, taking another slow sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

There’s a snicker somewhere in the back of the class, sending a flush of heat up my neck.

“Then yeah, that’s pretty fucking cruel,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. When I hear myself swearing, I squeeze my eyes closed and murmur, “Shit.”

If my professor is upset by my language, he doesn’t show it. Makes me wonder how often his students swear at him.

“Nietzsche said, ‘When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.’” Rooke drums his fingers against the side of his cup. “Provocative thought, isn’t it? This idea that we’re changed by what we study, no matter our intention.”

His lips flick into a melancholy smile that fades as quickly as it appears.

“That by examining cruelty, we risk becoming the very cruelty we’re trying to understand.” He pauses, scanning the classroom with intense eyes that quickly find their way back to me. “But isn’t that precisely why we’re here?”

The way he looks at me, it’s like everyone else has ceased to exist. He steps closer, voice dropping, a hardness to his tone that’s more than just being stern. Like he’s demanding I scrounge up whatever meager IQ I have and give him a satisfactory answer…or else.

“So I ask again. What. Is. Cruelty? ”

I drop my gaze and force a shrug, refusing to be drawn into another trick question, but I can still feel his eyes on me. I lick my lips, trying to force my brain to figure out an answer, but thankfully the door swinging open diverts Professor Rooke’s attention.

My heart sinks into my chest.

Kai is walking back inside the lecture hall.

I quickly pat my face, making sure I wiped all his spit off. What the hell is he doing in this class, anyway? He must be a senior by now, unless he got held back a few years.

Shit, is that why he’s so upset to see me? Is he embarrassed because we’re at the same level, when we’re nowhere near the same age?

Kai is so busy staring at his phone that he doesn’t see me looking at him. I expect him to come and sit beside me, and my entire body tenses as I’m hit with dread anticipation.

Professor Rooke glances over at Kai, then dismisses him with an unreadable expression in his brown eyes.

But instead of sitting with me and the rest of the students, Kai climbs onto the podium and flops down into the chair behind the desk, eyes still glued to his phone screen. So I stare at him, confused, until he shoves his phone in the pocket of his joggers and looks up.

Straight at me.

And God, does he send a smug fucking smirk my way.

An electric shock jolts through my body.

Shit. He’s the teacher’s assistant, isn’t he?

I quickly turn back to the professor, who’s still looking for a student to answer his question.

Someone really brave says, “Hurting someone on purpose is cruel.”

Professor Rooke focuses on him with laser precision. “Is it? Tell me, is a surgeon being cruel when he slices into his patient to perform life-saving open-heart surgery?”

The student stammers, “N-no, but?— ”

Professor Rooke points at him with one of the fingers holding his coffee cup. “Precisely. Intent plays a crucial role. What other factors should you consider when defining cruelty?”

I stick the end of my pen in my mouth, obliterating the cap as I keep my eyes intentionally fixed on the professor as he ambles up and down the raised platform, one hand wrapped around his cup, the other tucked behind his back.

I swear I can feel Kai’s eyes burning a hole in me.

Fuck him. I won’t give him the satisfaction of looking his way.

Also, I’m kinda too scared to even consider it.

I can still feel his fingers around my throat. The hand between my shoulders.

“Power?” a student in a red rock-band t-shirt ventures uneasily.

“Power…as in authority?” Rooke’s thumb caresses the side of his coffee cup, his pinkie finger keeping it balanced in his grip.

“Yeah, like…if you have power over someone else, they don’t always have a choice about stuff, and that’s cruel.”

I’m getting a crick in my neck looking back and forth between them, so I keep my eyes on Rooke and try to keep my mind on college work.

Not Kai.

Not if Professor Rooke is this passionate about other things in life. Like eating, drinking…

Sex.

Because, damn, this guy knows how to work a room.

Kai stretches out his legs, bumping the desk, and it makes me glance over at him.

Shit. He is staring.

Heat blooms on my cheeks, and I quickly flip open my pink STFU notepad so I don’t have to look at my teacher or Kai anymore.

CRUELTY =

INTENT + POWER ? +

My pen hovers, because I’ve only known Professor Rooke for a few minutes, but I can tell there’s more. This is all leading up to something big.

Something…mindfucking.

“So a parent disciplining a child is being cruel?”

I frown, risking a peek at the other students. A few of them are frowning too.

The guy in the band tee looks confused for a moment. “Well, no, that’s different?—“

“Because we’ve normalized certain forms of cruelty to the point of acceptance,” Rooke says. “Thus perception plays a role in defining true cruelty, doesn’t it?”

There’s an uneasy murmur from the class. I tap my pen against my chin, pursing my lips for a moment.