Page 1

Chapter 1

Scarlett

“Someone’s dancing on my grave.”

Pausing from digging into my backpack, I frown at the curly-haired girl sitting next to me. “ Huh? ”

“Someone’s dancing—”

“I heard what you said, Tabs,” I reply, retrieving a fresh hair band from the bottom of the bag. Tabitha has said some crazy stuff since we started doing coursework assignments a year ago, but this is the most bizarre thing I’ve ever heard from her mouth. “Why would you even…”

My voice trails as someone clears their throat behind me. Professor Green has just entered our lecture hall and doesn’t take kindly to chatter while physiology class is in session. I direct my attention to the front of the class while sweeping my blonde hair back into a ponytail.

“It’s just this heavy feeling,” she whispers as I contemplate whether to wrap my hair in a bun. The likelihood of someone yanking my ponytail is quite slim these days, but I’m not sure I want to take that chance. “You know, like something’s about to go wrong.”

“No, it’s hunger. I told you to stop fasting.”

“Nah, that’s not it. Probably just the demon that followed me from the old mansion last night.” Tabitha glances around her. “It’s in here somewhere.”

“Damn it, Tabs,” I whisper back, glancing around me, too. “Loosen up.” She thinks it’s cool to dabble with the occult, but it scares the shit out of me.

Tabitha chews on her gum, amusement dancing in her gray eyes, a long bony finger twirling her wild brown hair as she watches my reaction. She gets off on creeping me out and I hate that she gets me every time.

“You’re awful,” I say, trying to sound firm, but a chuckle escapes. It quickly fades when I catch Professor Green’s hard stare. I grab my pen and start scribbling notes from the slide, bracing for him to throw me out.

Professor Green has had it out for me since I contested a B+ grade he gave on my first mock test. My answer regarding the integrated functions of the body was spot on, yet he gave me half a mark, which was unacceptable. As Hempton College’s next valedictorian, I need a perfect GPA.

Well, it’s not yet official, but I can’t imagine anything that would stand in my way. I have my speech written, edited and ready for the ceremony next year.

Tabitha suddenly sucks in a harsh breath, snagging my attention. Her blank stare is locked on the front of the room, where Professor Green moves back and forth, his dark, oily-looking hair bouncing on his slim shoulders.

“Tabs, you okay—?”

I gasp as she snatches my wrist, gripping tightly.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, pulling at her hold.

Her grip remains tight, that eerie-looking stare now trained on me. “Oh no…”

I certainly don’t appreciate how she’s looking at me. “Oh no, what?”

“Someone wants to dance on your grave, Scarlett. They’re getting ready to destroy you .”

For a moment, I try to look away, but can’t. A weird sensation bubbles in my stomach and I pull my arm, getting it back this time. “Quit trying to creep me out, Tabs. It’s getting old.”

“This is not a joke,” she replies somberly.

Of all the people in my senior year to partner with me, it’s a girl who thinks she possesses the gift of prophecy. “Do you see me laughing?” I ask.

“Miss Pierce, I’m humble enough to admit you might know the material as well as I do, but do you mind giving the others a chance to catch up?” Professor Green drawls, his expression just as bored-looking.

All eyes turn in my direction and a few hostile stares are among them. I can almost read the thoughts behind those hateful glares: that fucking know-it-all traitor; why can’t she just disappear?

Is one of them getting ready to dance on my grave?

Tabitha shoots me an apologetic glance as I sink down in my seat, hot-faced. After making an enemy of our school’s hockey team and their fans last year, I’ve been doing my best to stay out of trouble. I’d like to keep it that way.

For the next hour, I shut everything out and focus on the lecture. A month and a half left in this class and I expect more of this behavior from Professor Green. After all, I did report him to faculty when he refused to reassess my answer and he’s still mad the dean ruled in my favor. It didn’t help when another professor gave me full marks for that same question.

“Sorry for getting you called out earlier,” Tabitha mutters at the end of class. “Don’t let Professor get to you.”

“As if,” I reply. After all I’ve been through—and what I’m still going through— it’s going to take more than Professor Green’s subtle bullying to break me. “I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

“Yes, my sixth sense has already detected that,” she replies, a tad mysteriously. “I can also tell you don’t want to be strong sometimes.”

I pause jamming my notebook in the tattered backpack I’ve had since high school. There are times when I think Tabitha’s oddness is simply a personality trait, but moments like these make me suspect otherwise. In the year that I’ve been working with her on various course projects, Tabitha and I have never gotten deep. She doesn’t even know where I live.

Then again, my appearance tells her everything she needs to know. Despite losing thirty pounds after an appendectomy two years ago, I still wear my old clothes because I can’t afford new ones. I’m dressed in denim pants that are folded at the waist to keep them from falling off, and a baggy T-shirt that once fit me like a glove. My blonde hair is always worn up because it’s expensive to maintain. I don’t know what it’s like to get my hair styled by a professional, and I won’t find out until I break the generational curse by graduating from college.

So yeah, it’s no sixth sense. One look at me will tell that I’m struggling financially, but my grades are a sign that I’m tougher than I appear.

It takes me a moment to realize Tabitha is still talking. I swing the backpack over my shoulder as she stares at me with concern. “Please, be careful.”

“Huh?”

“I said, be careful. This foreboding is no joke.”

“What foreboding?”

Tabitha presses her stomach with the palm of her hand. “This sensation inside me. All this negative energy that is trained in your direction. There’s something headed your way and it’s wildly unpleasant.”

I smile wryly. “Well, I hope it comes prepared to handle someone even more unpleasant.”

Tabitha doesn’t smile back. My own smile fades as I inch past her, getting chills as I go. God, her weirdness is already rubbing off on me.

“See you tomorrow,” I say, referring to our weekly project meeting, then I hurry off as quickly as my legs can take me. A brown-haired guy scoffs at me as I pass him, but thankfully, he says nothing. It wasn’t always like this. Seven months ago, he would probably try to trip me, or say something derogatory about my appearance. Seven months ago, I was public enemy number one among the hockey fans at Hempton College.

Seven months ago, I got crucified for something I didn’t do.

Brushing the awful memories aside, I take the final step to the front of the class. Professor Green is sifting through some papers and as I walk past his desk, he signals to me. Bracing myself, I turn to face him.

“Sir?”

He keeps sifting through the papers for a moment before directing his focus to me. “We have a problem, Miss Pierce,” he announces.

Of course, we do.

Folding my lips, I wait patiently for him to continue. He pulls out a paper, then hands it to me. My stomach falls as I read the first two lines. “Holy crap.”

“My sentiments exactly, Miss Pierce. And to be brutally honest, I’m quite surprised. For a student of your caliber, I didn’t expect this oversight.”

My eyes are already skimming over the rest of the letter and my stomach bottoms out when I get to the end of the page. “It was not an oversight, Professor. I thought I was exempt, considering I’m on the honor roll.”

A soft smirk brightens his leathery skin. “That exemption is given on a discretionary basis,” he informs me. “In my class, all students are required to complete a sixty-hour internship by the first semester of their final year, even those with a 3.9 GPA score. Without it, you can’t graduate.”

Which means I have a month and a half to not only apply and get accepted in an internship program on campus, but to complete sixty hours. As a double science major involved in several clubs, it’s going to be a hard feat.

I take a deep breath while thinking of what I’m working to achieve. I can’t rescue my family from poverty without my college degree. I have no gift beside my passion for orthopedic surgery. I already have my sights set on medical school in Seattle.

“It’s near impossible to secure an internship this time of year, but lucky for you, I know of an available spot,” he’s going on. “It’s yours if you want it. Once you accept, I’ll put a good word in for you.” He shrugs. “Well, you have no choice, really.”

“You’d do that for me?” I ask, flabbergasted. After our face-off last month, I’d expect he’d want me to fail.

He shrugs again. “Was I upset at how you handled the issue with your grade? Yes. Are you an exemplary student who deserves to graduate? Also yes. Considering I’m the grownup and your professor, it’s quite easy to put my feelings on the back burner and focus on what’s best for you.”

And here I thought he hated my guts. I smile. “Thank you. And yes, without a doubt, I’ll take that internship.”

“Great.” He reaches for a pen on his desk and scribbles on a card, then offers it to me. “Tomorrow morning, I want you to take this to the sports department. I’ll call the head to let her know you’re coming.”

“The sports department?” I glance down at the card, then gape.

No. No, no, no.

“Yes. The Wolves need some help in their equipment section,” he replies, now packing up his things.

My heart is pounding so loudly, I swear he’s hearing every beat from his side of the desk. “But I don’t know anything about hockey or the equipment or anything .” The closest I’d come to anything sports-related is taking a sports medicine elective in my second year.

“You don’t need to know anything about hockey. It’s an internship, not a full-time job,” he throws back quickly.

“But Professor—”

His stern expression lashes me. “Miss Pierce, I fail to understand your resistance. What part of mandatory don’t you understand?”

“I do understand, but…” I inch closer to the desk, lowering my voice. “Remember what happened last March.”

His features settle as awareness takes over. With a sigh, he rests the bag down. “I’m sure things have blown over by now. Either way, an hour or two with the team won’t make a difference. They see you every day around campus, don’t they?”

Not they. He .

And no, he doesn’t see me, because I hide whenever I spot that maroon jacket coming.

Which is quite easy, since I’m nowhere close to eye-catching in my worn-out clothes. But there’s no avoiding him when I’m working in his territory for an entire hour or two. It’s been a while since the incident, but I doubt he has forgiven me for what happened.

It’s weird that I’m expecting forgiveness for something I didn’t do.

“It’s your choice. Do the internship or lose those credits. Whatever’s more important, I guess.” Professor shrugs casually, like he didn’t just turn my world upside down. Frozen in place, I gape at his departing form.

“Be careful.” Tabitha’s sudden warning unfreezes me, making me jump. Again, I’m left staring at her back as she goes out. Goosebumps cover my arms and I rub them while exiting the lecture hall. This is all coincidence, nothing more. Tabitha’s crazy ‘premonition’ and my sudden internship with the Wolves aren’t connected. They can’t be.

Then, why are you shaking like this?

Dark clouds form overhead, a stark contrast to the sunshiny weather we’ve been having for weeks now. I hug myself, keep my head down and walk briskly to the bike stand, telling myself there’s nothing ominous about rain clouds. I’m not going to let Tabitha’s words get to me.

Almost at the bike stand, a figure suddenly steps onto the path ahead of me and my heart skips a beat at the sight of that maroon jacket.

Of all the goddamn days.

I glance around me, looking for somewhere to duck and hide, but there’s only the wide lawn on either side of the pathway. I could turn back, but with the clouds getting even darker, any delay might have me soaking wet by the time I ride home.

He’s walking briskly, broad shoulders swinging, firm-looking legs taking long strides away from me. I slow down, waiting for him to get to the crossroad, hoping he takes the right so I can run the other way.

A sudden shrilling brings him to an abrupt halt, just as I feel the first raindrop on my nose. Shit. Another hits my face, much harder this time. He pulls a cell phone from his pocket, glances at it, then puts it right back.

Okay, go on. Go!

He starts jogging, prompted by the incoming rain and I hurry behind him, running close enough to hear his gentle panting—

Too late, I realize I’m breathing hard as a quarter mile runner, probably loud enough to wake the dead. Mid-run, he twists and looks behind him, the sudden action making us collide.

By some miracle, I don’t fall. Until I realize it’s not a miracle at all. His tight grip on my arm keeps me from toppling on the wet concrete and this feels horribly like déjà vu.

Well… I wouldn’t quite say horribly .

We stand frozen for a moment as the heavy rainfall pelts us. In this moment, he’s not the Wolves’ captain. He’s not the leader of the team that hates my guts. He’s not my number one enemy, the adversary I didn’t ask for.

He’s just a head-to-toe gorgeous hunk of a man, the guy who gave me butterflies that first day in Calculus III.

Thick, dark hair, some plastered to his forehead by the pounding rain. Peridot-green eyes that are swimming with concern, for some reason. A strong jawline coated with a six o’clock shadow that strangely makes me want to see a full beard on him. A beautiful asshole. Such a pity.

Thunder suddenly peals overhead, breaking the trance. He backs off, swiping the hair from his face, his eyes now filled with an anger that brings me back to that awful night.

“What’s your strategy this time, traitor? Jump me from behind and what, break an ankle? Take me out of the next game… is that your plan?”

Droplets fall on my face, cold and stinging. He must be joking. Aiden is a foot taller than I am and I don’t know… fifty pounds heavier? “Get out of my way, please.”

Instead, he moves closer, still with that menacing glare. “Whoever sent you, tell them this: the next time you cross my path, I’m not letting you off this easy. When I’m done with you, I’m going to find them and they’re going to wish they were never born. Do I make my fucking self clear?”

I swallow hard, trying to keep a brave face, but failing miserably. My voice quivers as I reply, “Please, let me go.”

For a moment, I fear he won’t comply. The pressure on my chest quickly fades, replaced by an overwhelming relief as he steps aside, still with that murderous glare. I take off immediately, not daring to look behind me, my entire body soaked by the time I get to the bike stand. I back up under the shelter, relief giving way to a body-racking sob when reality hits me like a blow to the face.

There’s no hiding from Aiden Hunter anymore.