7. Chapter Seven #3
She funnels inside, and I shut the door behind us, leaning back with my arms crossed. This lecture hall has been empty for the last year. Its only use right now is storage for potion ingredients. It’s dimly lit, with the only light coming from the shaded window.
She should be running. Screaming. Something. Doesn’t she get it? Her sister almost died, and she’s still being naive about this place and the type of people who go here. Emma came to my house without a second thought, and now to an empty classroom with no one around to help her.
She’s so reckless. I could hurt her. I won’t, but I could. And people here will.
“I know it’s you who’s keeping me out of the culinary club. I just don’t understand why. My dad told me your grandfather asked about me.”
Shit.
“He’s just worried about your perpetual disappointment. He’s a kind old man.”
I almost can’t get the words out. I can’t think of a more inaccurate way to describe my grandfather.
I step forward, and her heart responds. Her fingers lace around the locket dangling from her neck, but her chin stays pointed. Ready. Defiant.
There it is. That familiar look of hatred in her eyes.
It’s what I prefer. What I crave. Finding new ways to get under Emma’s skin is becoming a hobby for me, and it’s so easy.
Because I’ve watched her enough over the last few months to know that the thing Emma hates the most is anyone telling her what to do or standing in the way of what she wants.
Other than that, she seems to be a model of happiness and pep, but that’s not how she really feels.
It takes real effort to be the one with a smile, so nothing hits me with a dopamine rush more than seeing her flush and sigh because that’s real.
“I’ll forget this ever happened if you do. We never have to speak to each other again. Deal?”
“No deal. Actually . . . None of this is why I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh?”
The corners of her mouth tug into a smile that I know is about to ruin my day.
“I came to find you and tell you I accept. I’ll be your source.”
The mere mention of the possibility has my skin heating. Digging my fingernails into my palm, I compose myself.
“What made you change your mind?”
“The fact that I know you never thought I’d say yes.” She smiles with that self-assured pomp, so proud of herself.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Sure, I do.” She shrugs. “Let’s just get it over with . . . Bite me.”
Something that once felt so far, nearly impossible, is now ripe for the taking. Suddenly, her smell is unbearable again. I step closer until I’m towering over her.
Oh, I hate her for this.
“So, let me get this straight. You’d rather make a hasty deal with me in an abandoned classroom than admit defeat?”
“It must be hard for you to deal with someone who won’t bow to you.”
“That’s what you think I want? Some submissive subject, bending to my every whim?”
“Isn’t that why you’re so angry all the time?”
Angry? She thinks I’m angry?
“No. It’s because you have no regard for your own safety, and it’s maddening.”
My words echo in the empty classroom, and she takes a step back. Good. She should be afraid of me.
Then I feel it. The shift in her pheromones. The dilation of her pupils. I’m standing a hair too close. I was so busy trying to scare her that I let her into my space, in an enclosed classroom with poor ventilation.
I hold her gaze. Just run, Emma. But it’s as if she’s cemented her feet to the floor. Is she—
She swallows. I hold my breath. Her arousal is thick in the air.
“You’re not ready for this,” I say.
“No, I’m ready.” She moves the hair from her shoulders, and I have a perfect view of her neck, with its soft, milky skin.
Flawless. Without a single blemish or mark.
I inch closer because, fuck, she smells really good.
It would be so easy to brush my fingers over her neck and take her blood right here, right now.
I lean close to her face, and she doesn’t flinch.
“You would really let me bite you, wouldn’t you?”
“If it gets me what I want.”
Her lashes flutter. For the first time, I can’t read her. Is she attracted to danger? I knew she was reckless, but this is on another level. I need a little longer than five seconds to adjust to this.
“We’ll need a contract,” I say slowly.
A lot of wealthy families make deals for what they consider premium blood. I’ve had the same source since I was a child, and their family has been in a relationship with my family for multiple generations. I’m going to have to top up with my source immediately after this.
It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to satisfy that prickle of curiosity spreading across her skin in goose bumps. It’s almost as if she wants me closer, and I’d love to test that theory. Would she really let me? More importantly . . . Could I make her like it?
“Fine.”
“I’ll have my lawyers draw it up tonight, along with an NDA.”
“An NDA? Why do we need that?”
I scoff. “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
She huffs, her golden eyes darkening. “I do. Do you?”
No. Not even fucking close.