1. Chapter One
Chapter one
“ O h, fuck yes, Professor Valentine. I will accept this ‘D’ any day.”
I rolled my eyes at the idiotic pun I had heard over the years of my life as a professor but continued to plow into the bitch in front of me. She was knocking everything off the shelf in front of her. We only had a few more minutes before the classes would switch, and the hallways would be filled with students.
I quickened my pace, reaching my hand over to rub circles on her clit. Her stockings were yanked down, and her red and black skirt was thrown above her ass. I ripped her panties to the side to make more room for my dick.
She wasn’t tight at all, honestly, it felt like fucking a plastic bag, but I hadn’t had a good orgasm in a few weeks, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. This particular bitch had been frothing over my desk for months.
Her drawings in my class always had a strong likeness to my bright blue eyes and light brown hair. It didn’t take a dumbfuck to make the connection, much less someone of my caliber.
“You like that, Bethany? Of course you do, you fucking slut. Keep panting, just like this. My Little Bitch drooling like a goddamn dog for my cock.”
She whimpered and I realized I must have guessed her name right. My orgasm was rising to the surface as I continued pounding into her. I didn’t give a shit about pulling out because I couldn’t get anyone pregnant.
That was a decision I made for myself a long time ago. I would never feed the disease of my bloodline, never shackle my own child to the life given to those that carried my fucking name.
“Oh, Professor Valentine! Holy fuck, yes. Right there!”
My name on her tongue felt dirty enough to get off, but as I figured, it was empty and meaningless. Besides, I was procrastinating. Fucking a dumb woman in a supply closet wasn’t helping with my true task.
It was nearing Valentine’s Day, and I had to secure my sacrifice for the ritual.
The only problem was…she wasn’t fucking here yet.
I didn’t know how much longer I would be forced to wait. Vivian Valentine was my chosen, and I would have her if it meant going to that piece of shit apartment and dragging her by the hair into the gates of St. Valentine’s myself.
Fourteen virgin women were to be bled dry into the grounds of the university. The very floor I stood on held a dark secret. Beneath our feet were the caverns of the Divine Valentine, where a huge ceramic bowl was waiting to suck up the blood of the chosen sacrifice. Women born of those sacrificed before them were destined to meet the same fate—Death.
My ancestor, St. Valentine, and his thirteen friends sacrificed their wives on February fourteenth all those years ago. Their pact and offering set in motion the future, which now created the wealth and prosperity of the structure they would build over the bones of their partners. Every year since the Bloody Valentine rituals continued.
Children born of those men would kill the women born of their departed wives. They saw this as a true offering of their own blood.
So many of their own children were fated to meet the stone altar year after year.
A magnitude of infidelity and a constant uptick of bastardized babies had created this path. Their only way out was to be hunted down until they were forced to stop running one way or another.
Unfortunately for them, I was that hunter. My hands had ended too many lives, some for the rituals and others in preparation for the required perfection. I gave up on family, kids, all the bullshit dreams that most had.
That was never in the cards for me. I figured that Hayes would eventually knock up some dumb broad and have little babies to continue this fucked up lineage we carried. Would it matter to the victims if they knew we were slaves to the Divine? Would it matter if I shared with them the scars that adorned my body from the punishments I received from running?
It had to happen.
There had to be a ‘balance in the universe.’ That had been beaten into me for thirty-nine years—my entire lifetime.
After they threatened to take the one moron who actually mattered to me, I realized I had no choice but to accept who I was always meant to be…a killer, a leader—a Valentine.
“Get out of here,” I said to the overly satisfied moron yanking her stockings back over her knees.
“Okay…” She hesitated like they all do, and I prepared my default answer and waited for her to finish. “But can we maybe do this again sometime, sexy?”
“No, darling.” I smiled sympathetically, gripping her arm in an awkward squeeze. “I do not double dip. You feel me once if you’re fortunate, and the gods seem to have deemed you lucky enough. Don’t squander that.”
Her mouth was open wide, and I debated sticking my cock inside that gaping hole to clean it off, but her neediness was already too much for my taste. Slowly, her mouth closed, and she pouted, her lower lip quivering.
A sense of unease washed through me as I reached for the door, not wanting to be here for her waterworks show.
When I gripped the metal knob, I realized it wasn’t budging. Clearing my throat, I tried again. It was fucking locked. I was locked in a damn supply closet with a crying student. I kept my back turned to her as I finished adjusting my button-up and fixing my blazer.
“This is not ideal,” I mumbled to myself.
My cell phone dinged in the quiet space, a reminder that classes were over and I was officially fucked.
Why couldn’t I just fuck an adjunct like everyone else?
I was already hearing the doors opening outside and students chattering as the rush of the fucking mob started.
“Oh no. I will never live this down if anyone finds out! They already bully me because of Professor Vega.” the twat-head wailed. I shook off the gross feeling of sharing a woman with Gunner Vega.
Her volume increased, and I grated my teeth, my irritation rising. She was going to alert someone to us because she was worried about her reputation…
I snaked my arm around her body, trying to calm her incessant idiocy. She shook me off, and panic rose when she started sobbing louder.
“What was that? Did you hear something?” she yelped, all but trying to claw in my shirt.
I leaned forward. There was a muffled sound. It was likely some kid that was close to the closet door.
Cursing, I wrapped my arm around the student’s neck, squeezing before she’d even realized I had moved behind her.
Snap.
Her sobbing suddenly stopped.
I looked at the limp woman in my arms. “Oh fucking hell.”
Maybe this is why I got the nickname ‘Mads.’
I dropped her body in the corner and covered her with cleaning equipment, spreading out the cloth of the mop onto her chest and legs. The stirring was slowing outside, and I waited to hear the tell-tale chime on my phone again. The noise died down, and I tested the knob one more time, pushing my shoulder against the door.
“Open sesame, asshole,” I said, smashing my shoulder harder this time.
Before I knew what was happening, the door swung open, and the blinding light outside was causing me to blink.
It was just my fucking luck that a kid was standing there. I recognized him as the quiet man in one of my classes. He’d kept to himself, and I hadn’t heard a word from him since the day he started my course.
His bright eyes sparked with confusion and curiosity at my disheveled appearance. I cleared my throat, rising to my full height and trying to show my authority. His eyes roved over to the stupid bitch in the corner I’d have to clean up later tonight.
“Oh, she’s fine,” I said in a forced laugh. “She took a nap, you see. I heard…um…snoring? Yeah, I heard snoring and opened this door to investigate, only to find the student in the corner. Let’s let her sleep, shall we?”
The kid stared a moment longer and ran a shaky hand through his shaggy blond hair.
“It really is impolite to wake someone.”
The student snorted, dropping his hand with a shrug.
“Good boy, now let’s head to class.” I didn’t give him a chance to speak, if he even could.
Instead, I wrapped my arm across his chest to spin him around, moving him forward. The door shut back on its own with a click.
The hallway was silent, and with the mute boy by my side, that quiet stretched uncomfortably. I knew I smelled like fucking sex, but to the young man’s merit, he didn’t so much as look at me. He kept his head forward and continued to walk at my pace.
I wracked my brain for his name. Kyle? No, that wasn’t it.
“So, having…a good day today?” I said, the silence getting under my skin.
He looked over and nodded.
I stopped and turned to face him. “There’s a power in one’s voice, son. Sometimes, it is all you have for yourself.”
He looked at me, an expression of understanding and something else swirling in those eyes.
“What is your name?”
“Kieran,” he said quickly and quietly.
I smiled, happy to hear the man could speak.
Since he had chosen to keep his words close, I felt honored that he had let me listen to them. I saw a lot of my younger sister in him. She always chose her words, carefully picking the ones she felt were necessary and avoiding others. She was long gone before ever learning how to use her voice. Though, maybe there was hope for this kid.
“My name is Maddox. Maddox Valentine,” I said to him, extending my hand in a gesture meant for respect.
Of course, he already knew my name, but it was the principal of formalities. He stared at my gesture like it was an alien claw before eventually reaching out to accept it.
It wasn’t long after that we arrived back at my classroom, and I continued walking him to my office. This individual stared at my work with more than the typical awe and adoration. When he viewed the beaten, broken women of my collection, there was lust in his eyes.
I found the portrait I was searching for while he stood awkwardly in the door frame.
“Here, tell me what it is you see,” I demanded, pushing the artwork into his hands.
He paled, and his cheeks flushed. This art piece was one of my favorite sacrifices. The woman’s name was Katheryn. She was a true virgin, and when I was blessed with her as my chosen, I took great liberty in keeping her intact but skirting those lines as dangerously as I could.
Her skin was as white as snow, her eyes wide, and her mouth so beautifully open. This image was right before her body was given to the Divine. She was stripped bare, and her open mouth held a glistening apple.
I had always felt as though Valentine gifted me these women on a platter, and so this artwork reflected that. The metal plate below her was gold, and she was on her stomach with her arms tied to her feet.
“A…woman, sir?” Kieran whispered quietly.
“Of course, it’s a woman, silly boy,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But what do you see ?”
This man could see what I could. I knew it. He needed to say it out loud.
“Pain…seduction…and…”
He hesitated for a moment but then said, “Peace…”
I smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Indeed.”
This kid would make a fine addition to the Divine when he was ready, but I had more pressing matters to attend to for now. “Now, why don’t you run along. I will see you tomorrow for class.”
The man spun around but paused. “But. Your painting?”
“Consider it a gift.”
His eyes widened, and he scurried off.
This kid had strength in him that he didn’t realize. I was going to tap into that and either help him rise or destroy him in the process.