Page 5 of The Invite (The Massacre Ball #1)

Nessa

“Do you have any advice for me?” I ask Ace, who draws every single girl’s attention as we stroll down the hall.

He either doesn’t seem to notice them or he’s used to it.

I’m betting on the latter.

“Facing a class full of seniors can be daunting, but don’t forget you’re in charge,” he says low. “It’s your wish if you want to be friendly, but always be firm and don’t hesitate to put them in their place if they step out of line.”

“Do you think they will?” There is no hiding the nervousness in my tone.

We stop one door down my class. “You’re young and new, you can expect a few of the boys to test your boundaries. They’re rich and entitled so they believe they can get away with it. They’re wrong. It’s you who holds all the power.”

“Okay.”

His palm skims down to my wrist and squeezes it. “You’ll be fine, Nessa.”

Nodding, I straighten my shoulders, hold my head high, and march toward the classroom at the end of the high-ceiling hallway. Ace, still standing tall in the same spot, gives me an encouraging smile.

I enter the room. At the sound of my heels clicking on the shiny white-tiled floor, the loud and playful chatter dies down.

“You’re not Mrs. Perry,” a high-pitched female voice says just as I put the books and my purse down on the desk.

“Even with plastic surgery, she couldn’t get this hot.” A boy snickers from one of the back rows. Ruckus ensues as everyone laughs or hoots.

“I’m Miss Nessa Davenport,” I say loudly, my sharp voice cutting through the chatter. Easily finding the culprit who made the comment, I hold his smug eyes with my cold ones, and announce, “Your new English lit teacher.”

Want to know whose confidence I’m channeling?

Professor Annalise Keating from the show How to Get Away with Murder .

Rounding the table to the front, I lean against it and firmly speak. “I don’t know how Mrs. Perry conducted this class, but I will not tolerate any disrespectful comments or behavior. So, act accordingly unless you want to face the dire consequences. Is that understood?”

A chorus of yeses rings out from different corners of the room.

“Sorry, Miss Davenport,” murmurs a beautiful girl with exotic features, looking over to the boy who joked from her perch in the middle of the row. “Manners aren’t taught in the trailer parks. You know what they say, you can take a man out from the wrong tracks but his class will stay the same.”

Another boy, whose features must have been carved out from stone and is sitting beside the first, retorts in an impassive tone, “Just like you can dress a bitch in expensive shit, but she’ll still be a bitch.”

The girl’s face twists into an expression of wrath.

“Enough,” I sharply say, before it can escalate. Their gazes snap to mine, animosity waving between them. I snap my fingers at the girl. “Your name.”

“Scarlett Grayson,” she utters in a way that it’s supposed to mean something.

I, however, miss the hidden meaning.

“And you?” I ask the boy.

He answers through gritted teeth, “Kaid.”

“Well, Scarlett and Kaid, I don’t want any name-calling or bullying in my class. Everyone here is equal and will learn to push aside their differences and learn to coexist. I’m letting you both off with a warning today. Don’t let there be a next time.”

I pat my shoulder inwardly when they reluctantly nod. I don’t mind being dubbed as a strict teacher as long as they obey me. I know their rebellion is far from over and they will start again in the coming weeks. Nevertheless, I’m prepared to handle it when it comes.

“Now, if everyone would open—”

The door to the classroom slams against the wall, cutting me off mid-sentence. Annoyed, I turn to see who interrupted me after getting the students under control, when all the color drains from my face.

So does the confidence I had grown in the last few minutes.

It sheds like asnake’s skin.

The only thing holding me up is my fingers automatically curling around the edge of my desk, needing support as I stare into the eyes that I can never forget even if I have dementia.

“Sorry for running late, Mrs.…” The boy beside him trails off, realizing I’m not his old teacher. It’s the friend with blue eyes and a scary metal chain, who bound me to a tree for his friend’s pleasure.

But I don’t look at him for too long.

My entire being—head to toe—is stuck to the quiet and menacing figure beside him.

My sinister monster, who hasn’t stopped haunting my psyche since I ran from him last night.

He is pristinely dressed in the red-and-blue school uniform, filling it out in all the right places with his lean yet muscular frame.

Oh my god.

My attacker is my student.

A student whose hand I shameless rode, who knows what my pussy feels like, and how badly I’m terrified of him.

Those black eyes, though—made of moonlight and nightmares—crinkle in the corners with recognition.

Even scarier is the truth shining in them that he’s pleased he found me.

His little runaway.

His perfect prey.

He doesn’t hide that he knows who I am. Or that he tormented me in cruel and wicked ways. He is gloating in it.

Somehow, my freedom was fleeting, because I have circled my way back to him.

My throat isn’t working, my tongue feels heavy, and my vision is turning hazy as I find it difficult to breathe and function properly.

Stepping forward as if he owns the room and everyone in it—including me—he says in a deep baritone, “I didn’t know we were meeting a new teacher.”

In broad daylight, his voice is silkier and rumbling and frightening because no one but me senses the danger lurking underneath it.

“Meet Miss Nessa Davenport, Augustus and Maverick,” reveals Scarlett. “She replaced Mrs. Perry.”

Augustus .

Greek. Immortal. Godly. Powerful.

A menace.

His gaze darkens at my name and in a bone-shivering voice, he greets, “Welcome. I can’t wait for you to teach us, Miss Nessa.”

My name rolls off his tongue as smooth as fine wine.

It slices through the stupor their presence sealed me in. I cannot lose it in front of this many people. Straightening, I cross my arms and chide, “Then don’t show up late.”

His lips tilt a fraction. “Blame it on the long night I had.”

I save my expression from flustering at the last second but I can’t control the shiver and goosebumps his words evoke.

In my peripheral vision, I see others taking in the exchange with either humor, curiosity, or bizarreness.

I need the energy in the room under my control before suspicions are raised.

The last thing I need floating about me is rumors. Least of all one involving my name with a student. It has disaster written all over it.

I’ll worry about handling them for the rest of the year later.

When I’m alone and not seconds away from blacking out.

“Both of you, take your seats,” I order and turn around, ending the conversation. Calming my racing heart down is a herculean task but I manage it. Behind me, I hear their footsteps climbing the aisle, chairs scraping as they obey.

The letters on my notepad, where I made notes of the chapter I wanted to discuss today, blur in and out of focus.

I sense the students getting antsy and low murmurs filling the air. I’m too unsettled to teach them, not when I can feel his eyes boring holes into my back, watching and dissecting my every move.

They were not at all afraid that I knew it was them behind the masks.

Almost as if they were confident I won’t call them out. Even if I did, I still have no proof. Nothing besides my gut intuition and the look of familiarity on their faces.

Taking a deep breath, I quickly reach into my purse and switch on the recording device I brought with me. Afterward, I face the crowd while avoiding Augustus’s gaze.

“We’ll be beginning with The Great Gatsby ,” I inform the class. “Would anyone like to read for the entire class?”

A single hand rises.

“Please come forward.”

The slim wrist glinting with a colorful bracelet lowers and a beautiful curvy blonde girl stands.

Her eyes remain downcast as she maneuvers her body through the rows before reaching my side with her book in hand.

Although her demeanor conveys she’s shy, her actions indicate the opposite. A strange paradox.

“What’s your name?” I softly ask.

Her head lifts to mine, and she replies, “Capri.”

Smiling, I nod for her to start. The moment she opens the book and begins reading, I’m immediately impressed and mesmerized. Her voice is loud and firm, yet light and sweet. There’s an instant spark in her posture and face like she’s lost in the fictional world she’s reading.

Meanwhile, I give a cursory glance around the room. My heart skips a beat when I catch Maverick smirking rather than paying attention to the chapter. I glare and skirt my gaze to the side, and frown upon noticing Augustus writing on his notebook.

He is sitting relaxed back against his chair, one hand on his chin while the other is wrapped around a black pen.

With his suffocating attention elsewhere, it allows me to study his dark features. Wavy black hair pushed back over a wide forehead, dark brows slashed over naturally narrowed eyes, angular cheekbones, and a Roman nose. Light stubble frames his square jaw, adding to his raw appeal.

He’s a devil in disguise personified.

Courtesy of his devious power, his gaze suddenly lifts to mine, heating when they catch me staring. A traitorous throb ignites in my clit when he glides his thumb across his full bottom lip intentionally.

I feel like a trapped prey.

Breaking our connection, I focus on listening to Capri. I sneak a glance at Augustus once again and he’s back to scribbling. I hate how I’m drawn to him.

He just appears so… normal.

Do his classmates know about his double life? Do they know he strolls in the woods at night, wearing a mask and trapping innocent girls? A deadly game of cat and mouse. Predator and prey.

The normalcy he’s portraying is alarming.

For the rest of the class, I force myself to pretend he doesn’t exist and only release a relieved breath when the bell rings.

I quickly tell the class to write a summary of the part we read today for tomorrow’s discussion.

As everyone filters out, talking among themselves, I collect my things and switch off the Dictaphone in my bag.

“Capri,” I stop her before she leaves.

“Yes, Miss Davenport?”

She’s back to being shy, which makes my lips quirk. “Do you love to read?”

“Yeah.” Her tone is surprised. “How did you know?”

“I could tell. It’s a great hobby to have.”

Her cheeks pinken at that, and she whispers, “Thanks.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she nods and ambles out. I assume everyone has filed out until I glance up and lock eyes with Augustus. Thick, corded arms casually stretched out, hands steepled and resting on the desk, he sits quietly.

I swallow, stomach hollowing out, and push past dry lips, “Class is over.”

Pushing back from his chair, he stands to his full and intimidating height. Notebook pinned underneath his right arm, he strolls down the steps from the second to last row.

The closer he comes, the more I want to run away.

Despite knowing he’s younger than me, he scares me. Downright petrifies me to my bones. Even the strong and wide wooden desk doesn’t seem like a good buffer against him. I’ve already experienced his strength and what he’s capable of.

I watch him exhaling a calming breath as he walks toward the exit.

But instead of leaving, he shuts the door and twists the lock with a resounding click. I jerk in fear, down to the tip of my toes, seeing my only escape being taken hostage.

My knees buckle when he faces me.

Regarding me like I’m a deer caught in the headlights.

All I can think is… I’m trapped in with my sinister monster.

Will I escape unscathed this time?