Chapter 6 #2
I offer a wooden smile. “I think this is exactly why Romeo and Juliet is still relevant today. There’s a lot to be discussed. Now, if we’ll move on to chapter—”
“Cop out.”
My eyes meet Zane’s sky-blue ones, and I swear, as light as they are, I see shadows gathering like a storm to crowd his gaze.
My back stiffens. “Mr. Cross?”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
I narrow my eyes in response. “And what exactly was your question?”
“Falling for someone you can’t have. Losing everything in the end.” His eyes caress me. “Love story or tragedy?”
The rest of the class falls silent, watching our exchange keenly.
I walk behind my desk and lift my tablet. “Romeo and Juliet are teenagers in the original poem. They made the choices they did because they were young and foolish. When you’re older, when you have more experience, you realize there is no love that’s worth losing everything.”
Maisy pushes her glasses up her nose. “I agree. If it hurts, if it’s difficult, if it makes you want to die, then that’s not love.”
Heads bob in agreement.
“Who says?” Zane twirls his drumsticks. “What if the pain makes the pleasure even sweeter? What if denying yourself is worse than death?”
I can’t help the way my breath catches and my hands shake.
Blinking rapidly, I lift my tablet to cover the way my heart thunders. “Everyone, open your books. Maisy, please start from page 56.”
I finish the lecture with Zane’s stare drilling into me the entire time.
The musical bells chime.
“Your assignments will be in the school app,” I say. “And Mr. Cross…”
Everyone freezes when I call Zane’s name.
“Can I see you for a moment?”
The way I end the question makes it sound like a demand, not a request.
Zane observes me thoughtfully, eyes stripping me apart. I glare back, unable to slip under a guise of professionalism.
Students file past, giving us curious looks.
“Later, Miss Jamieson.” Maisy waves.
I nod.
As the students leave, Zane saunters behind them.
“Where do you think you’re going?” My voice is sharp.
Zane’s shoulder muscles go tense, but he doesn’t stop walking. I’m shocked when he closes the door, locks it and lowers the blinds on the glass pane.
My heart thunders. “Keep the door open.”
Zane turns. A flash of frustration filters through his gaze before he covers it with a practiced smirk. “I’d rather you yell at me in private.”
“We can’t do anything in private,” I snap. “Open the door.”
“No.”
“Zane.”
“You have no idea how often I’ve imagined this. You… asking to see me after class.” He prowls toward my desk, moving like a predator on his prey. “You’re getting me excited, tiger.”
I stiffen. “Don’t call me that.”
Zane stalks closer. With that violet-black hair and black T-shirt, every step he takes seems to gather the shadows. His military boots thump the ground. He’s a brutally gorgeous commander, except his army is the darkness hidden within the human heart.
The cruel twist of his lips makes me jumpy.
Between the brothers, Zane is the one more likely to smile and joke around, but he’s no less dangerous. No less powerful.
I’ve seen the way other teachers cower before him. I’ve heard the whispers in the lounge. They say that Jarod Cross brought this school back to life after the shameful scandal that nearly tore Redwood apart.
They say his sons, by extension, hold all the power in this new era.
I don’t care.
Zane crossed the line for the last time.
I lean in with fire in my voice. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
His lips curl up. Unruffled, as always. “What do you mean?”
A red haze settles on me. I want to punch him in the face so badly that my fingers twitch.
I shouldn’t let him get to me.
And I shouldn’t be holding him back after class when there are so many rumors about us.
But why the hell not?
I’ll never get anywhere if he keeps this up. The only way to reclaim my respect is to fight for it.
“You know what I mean. Your little speech in class!”
“I was defending my position.” He shoves both drumsticks in his back pocket. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“I told you to never mention that incident .”
“What incident?” He arches a brow, his smile getting wider and more wicked.
I glare at him, chest heaving. Refusing to say it.
“You mean our night together.” He circles me like a shark. “The night you let me touch you the way no student should touch a teacher?”
At the mere mention, the ache between my thighs burns with a desperate adrenaline.
“Do you think this is a joke?” I snap.
“You want me to cry then?”
“I want you to grow the hell up,” I growl. “You’re acting like a child.”
His expression shifts in an instant. From careless and cocky to a smoldering wolf. He prowls toward me, all six foot plus of him crowding my space.
My eyes dart fearfully to the hallway. The door is locked, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t listening.
I back up. “Zane.”
He stops an inch away, those painfully blue eyes boring into mine. “Miss Jamieson,” Zane reaches between us and touches one of my curls with his rough, giant hands, “we both know that I am not a child.”
My breathing is coming in harsh pants, and even though I despise my body for turning on me, I can’t deny the effect he has.
The tension between us thickens.
Dark.
Forbidden.
But unmistakable.
I dig my fingers into the edge of the desk. “If this is how you’ll be, don’t come back to my class.”
He laughs.
The freaking monster laughs .
My heart slams against my ribs and I realize that I’m in way over my head.
No wonder the other teachers duck when Zane and his brothers stalk through the hallway. No wonder crowds part to let them pass. No wonder they’re denied nothing—from the principal going down to the lunch ladies.
I forgot.
Or maybe they allowed me to pretend I was different.
Zane was softer with me.
Almost kind.
But there’s no kindness in his eyes now. No hint of affection.
It’s just pure darkness and twisted depravity.
“This little game of ours is getting old.” He narrows his eyes, a frightening chill beneath his words.
“Game? You think disrespecting me at every turn is fun? ”
His eyebrows tighten. I feel his heat, his shattered restraint.
Every instinct tells me I should stop pushing, but I can’t. A part of me wants to fight, to scold him, to do everything I can to hide the way my body still aches for him. Still longs to be shattered to pieces again. To spin out in hot, lashes of pleasure like we did that night.
Ridiculous.
Despicable.
I hate him.
I can’t have him.
Damn. I shouldn’t even want him.
“I’m not playing games with you, Zane.” Our harsh breaths mingling, I spit out. “I’m your teach—”
He surges forward, pinning me against the wall and grinding his jeans into my aching core. I flutter my hands over my mouth and push back a moan.
The friction of his big body against mine sends pleasure tearing through me like a storm.
Zane bends to my ear. Too dangerous. Too dark. “I haven’t been treating you like a teacher, Miss Jamieson. Not even close. But now, I think I’ll give you what you’re asking for.”
I should move. Shove him off.
But every instinct is being shoved down by a throbbing, visceral heat.
“You do what I say from now on.” His commanding fingers brush down my hip and tease a circle against the bone. “That’s how I treat my teachers at Redwood.” He slides his hands lower. “Especially the ones who forget their place.”
“Get off—”
His mouth rocks toward mine.
I brace myself for a rough, angry kiss, but he stops just short of meeting my lips. Eyes glittering like a crazed animal, he smirks.
“If you don’t listen like a good little girl,” his warm breath teases my cheek, “I’ll tell everyone I’ve seen what’s hiding under that tight pencil skirt.
” His fingers brush my inner thigh. “Not only that.” He bends down to whisper in my ear.
“I’ve tasted what’s under that skirt. And if you really don’t behave,” his lips tug on my ear and I feel the quick flicker of his tongue, “I’m going to taste it again. ”
A moan escapes my lips that I can’t hold back, no matter how badly I want to. The ache between my legs is about to split me apart.
I glare up into his stormy blue eyes. My voice is breathless. “Are you… threatening me?”
The musical chimes go off.
Without warning, Zane drops his hands and steps back. He sticks one of those long, wicked fingers into his mouth and licks it. “You’re still sweet, tiger.”
The smirk on his face is infuriating , but I can’t do anything because my legs are jelly and I’m barely standing up.
“Make time for me tonight. I’ll send you an address,” he says calmly.
I glare at him, unable to stop the riptide of hatred and anger.
Damn him.
Damn him to death.
He arches a brow. “I expect you to be on time. You don’t want to know what’ll happen if you’re late.”
Zane smiles, punctuating the steel in his voice.
Without warning, he throws the door open and leaves.
I stumble back.
My legs buckle.
Shakily, I press a hand to the whiteboard, curling my fingers against the smooth, cool surface.
I thought Zane was horrible before, but I was wrong. There’s more beast than man inside him. And I think I just unlocked the monster.
* * *
Jinx: Snare King got a royal dressing down from Sexy Teach after class. Does it have anything to do with last week’s epic shoulder-throw?
Battle lines are being drawn, but what is Snare King really fighting for? Is this a war to conquer and destroy a rebel or has our dark prince set his sights on a new, forbidden concubine?
One thing’s for sure, Sexy Teach better brace herself. I have a feeling she’s not done getting thrown around.
Until the next post, keep your enemies close and your secrets even closer.
- Jinx