Page 47 of Twisted Ties

“Do you want to come into my class or not?” he says lowering his voice, his tone full of threat.

“Depends. What are you going to teach me?”

His eyes travel down my form in such a heated way it makes my skin blaze.

“Get inside the classroom now, Rhianna!” he barks.

I roll my eyes at him in a way I’m sure would rival Summer and stride inside with my head held high. All the students duck their heads immediately and pretend to be reading from their text books.

I don’t know why but I’m suddenly even more irritated with him than I was before. Irritated with him and this stupid sensation, this stupid situation.

I have a mate. A very hot mate. Okay, we may have our problems and things might not be as rosy as they should be, but when the man has his head between my thighs, I feel like I’m a princess. Like I’m special. Like he really means everything he’s telling me with the movement of his tongue.

I shiver just thinking about it and sink into the only available desk right in the front row.

Stone comes stomping into the classroom after me, his expression even more thunderous and I realize he’s probably experienced me thinking about Azlan eating my pussy second hand. That should make me feel less irritated andmore embarrassed, but it doesn’t and I glare right back at him.

The lesson is another boring one. Stone doesn’t seem to actually want to teach us anything these days and instead has us reading yet more passages from books about the evolution of magic. The topic is actually pretty interesting, but the way it is written is so dry and technical it renders it duller than watching paint dry. And I should know. My childhood wasn’t exactly full of crazy-ass entertainment.

The boring text and my lack of sleep, the warm temperature of the room and the strange buzz of my bond in my stomach start to get to me. My eyelids droop. Twice I jerk awake, shaking my head and trying to focus in on the words in front of me. The third time I jolt awake as my elbow gives way from under me and my head smacks against the desk.

I yelp, blinking my eyelids open. Everyone is staring at me, several giggling, one with their phone out.

“I wonder why you bother coming to my lessons, Miss Blackwaters, if you’re going to miss a good chunk of the start and sleep all the way through the remainder.”

I look up and find Stone sitting behind his desk, his boots resting on the surface, his hands clutched behind his head, a book balanced in his lap.

“And I wonder why you bother showing up to lessons seeing as you don’t actually seem to want to teach us anything.”

The room falls silent.

Stone swings down his legs and leans forward over his desk.

“See me after class, Miss Blackwaters.” His voice is sinisterly quiet and it scares me a whole lot more than it usually does. Have I pushed him too far? Well, so what if I have? He’s pushed me much further.

The bell rings a few minutes later and once again I take my time packing up my bag. I notice quite a few of the others doing the same. They’re obviously hoping to overhear me receiving a scolding from Stone. The people in this school really are twisted.

Stone continues reading his book, something that looks like poetry, and pays none of us any notice. Eventually, the last student runs out of ways to dawdle and the door shuts closed behind them, leaving just me and the professor.

He looks up from his book immediately and slams it shut.

“You think you’re cute?” he asks.

“Do you?” I ask, resting my hand on my hip. His eyes flash and the hook in my stomach tugs. “I don’t think I’m anything,” I add quickly, then hesitate. “Except eager to learn.”

He shrugs off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves, his strong forearms coming into view. Then he scrubs his fingers through his beard and I wonder how many students have fantasized about doing the same.

He screws up his eyes. “Can you not?” he says. Then he sighs. “Lots of students fall for their teachers. It’s not uncommon. It’s similar to a Stockholm syndrome situation.”

“I haven’t fallen for you.”

“Did I say you had?” he says.

I chew on my lip.

“You can’t turn up late, Miss Blackwaters. You can’t fall asleep in my lessons. You can’t give me backchat in my class. You think the principal’s punishments are harsh, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“I’m not scared of you.”