Chapter 11
Valen
Dread was not a strong enough word for what I felt as I headed toward the fencing salle. If my heart could beat, it would’ve been racing. From nerves, from excitement, or maybe just from pure frustration. Either way, there was only one cause for all my anguish.
Archer fucking Quinn.
The bastard was going to get me in all sorts of trouble.
And the worst part was, I wanted him to.
I wanted him to push me into the locker room, pin me to the bench, and ride my cock like his life depended on it.
It was all I could think about. And now the little fucker was in my class, so I had to see him three times a week and pretend I didn’t want to fuck his brains out.
The salle was already bustling with activity when I arrived, team members stretching and checking their equipment.
I forced myself to walk normally instead of stalking across the floor like the predator I was, though every instinct screamed at me to either flee or find Archer and finish what we’d started in that alley, both of which were not good options.
I spotted him immediately, of course. He was near the equipment rack, already suited up in his whites, adjusting the fit of his jacket with those graceful movements that had caught my attention during tryouts.
Even from across the room, I could see the lean lines of his body beneath the fencing gear, and my mouth went dry remembering exactly what he looked like without it.
“Focus,” I muttered under my breath, setting down my gear bag with more force than necessary. Several students glanced my way, probably wondering why their usually composed professor looked like he was ready to murder someone.
I busied myself with equipment checks, trying to ignore the way my enhanced hearing picked up Archer’s voice as he chatted with other team members.
He sounded perfectly normal, relaxed even, like he wasn’t currently driving his vampire professor to the brink of insanity with lust. But maybe that was his angle. Maybe he enjoyed torturing people.
“Alright, everyone gather around,” I called out, proud of how steady my voice sounded. “Today we’re going to work on advanced combinations and tactical awareness.”
The team formed a loose circle around me, and naturally, Archer positioned himself directly in my line of sight. When our eyes met, he had the audacity to give me a small, knowing smile that sent heat shooting straight to my cock.
Christ, I was fucked.
“Captain Quinn,” I said, forcing my tone to remain professional, “would you demonstrate the combination you showed us all during tryouts last week?”
“Of course, Professor.” The way he said my title, with just the slightest emphasis, made it sound almost intimate. Like he was reminding me of all the things he’d whispered in my ear when I was buried inside him.
I selected another student to spar with him, telling myself it was because I needed to maintain appropriate boundaries. The truth was, I didn’t trust myself to get within sword’s reach of him without doing something spectacularly inappropriate.
But watching him fence was almost worse than sparring with him directly.
Every movement was poetry in motion, each attack and parry executed with the kind of precision that spoke to years of dedicated training.
He was beautiful and deadly, and I wanted to fuck him so badly I could barely think straight.
“Excellent work,” I managed when the demonstration ended, though my voice sounded strained even to my own ears. “Now I want everyone to pair off and practice that sequence. I’ll be walking around to correct your form as you go.”
As the team scattered across the salle, Archer approached me with his mask tucked under his arm. Up close, I could see a light sheen of sweat on his neck, and the urge to lick it off nearly brought me to my knees.
“Professor, I was wondering if we could schedule some additional training sessions,” he said, his blue eyes bright with what looked like innocent academic interest. “As captain, I want to make sure I’m setting the best possible example for the team.”
The fucker knew exactly what he was doing.
“I think your current skill level is more than adequate,” I replied through gritted teeth.
“But there’s always room for improvement, isn’t there?” He stepped closer, ostensibly to avoid being overheard by the other students. “I’m very eager to learn everything you’re willing to teach me.”
The double entendre was so blatant I was amazed no one else seemed to notice. Or maybe they did, and I was just too distracted by the way his lips moved when he spoke to care about maintaining my cover.
“Private lessons aren’t typically offered,” I said, proud of myself for forming complete sentences.
“I understand.” His expression was perfectly innocent, but there was heat in his eyes that made my fangs ache with the urge to bite. “Though I hope you’ll reconsider. I can be very... dedicated when something interests me.”
Before I could respond with something that would probably get me fired, one of the other students called out a question about footwork. I seized the excuse to escape, leaving Archer standing there with that infuriating smile still playing at the corners of his mouth.
The rest of practice passed in a haze of sexual frustration and barely contained violence.
Every time Archer moved, I found myself tracking him like prey.
Every laugh, every casual comment directed at other team members, made jealousy burn in my chest in a way I hadn’t experienced in centuries. What the fuck was wrong with me?
When I finally dismissed the team, I made sure to busy myself with equipment maintenance until the salle emptied. All I needed was to be alone with Archer for thirty seconds and I’d probably do something that would destroy both our lives.
But of course, he lingered.
“Professor Crowe,” he called out when the last student had left. “I think you dropped this.”
I turned to see him holding up a pen that definitely wasn’t mine, his expression the picture of helpful innocence. The salle suddenly felt much smaller with just the two of us in it.
“That’s not mine,” I said, not moving from where I stood near the equipment rack.
“Are you sure?” He walked toward me slowly, like he was approaching a skittish animal. “I could have sworn I saw you drop it.”
“Quinn.” His name came out as more of a growl than I’d intended. “What are you doing?”
“Returning your pen,” he replied, though he was close enough now that I could see the pulse beating at the base of his throat. Close enough to smell the clean scent of his skin beneath the lingering traces of exertion.
“It’s not my fucking pen and you know that.”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep it.” He slipped the pen into his jacket pocket, the movement bringing him even closer. “Maybe I’ll try to return it to you in class next time. Or… maybe during our private lessons would be better?”
“We are not having private lessons,” I said, but my voice lacked conviction even to my own ears. The way he was looking at me, like he could see straight through all my carefully constructed defenses, made it hard to remember why this was such a bad idea.
“Why not?” He took another step closer, close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “I’m a consenting adult. You’re a consenting adult. And we both know there’s unfinished business between us.”
“You’re my student,” I said weakly, though even as the words left my mouth, I was remembering the way he’d felt pressed against me in that alley, the desperate sounds he’d made when I’d stretched him open.
“I’m auditing one class,” he corrected, reaching out to toy with the zipper of my fencing jacket. “That hardly makes me your student in any traditional sense.”
His fingers brushed against my chest through the fabric, and I had to bite back a groan. Days of sexual frustration and constant thoughts of him had left me wound tighter than a spring, and his casual touches were unraveling me faster than I could rebuild my defenses.
“Archer,” I warned, though it came out more like a plea than a threat.
“What?” His blue eyes were wide with fake innocence even as his hand flattened against my chest. “I’m just talking to my professor about my educational goals. It’s all very academic.”
“This is not academic and you fucking know it.”
“Prove it.” The challenge in his voice made my fangs ache with the urge to bite, to mark, to claim, to show him who was in charge. “If this is just about academics, then you shouldn’t have any problem being alone with me. Should you, Professor?”
The little shit was calling my bluff, and we both knew it.
Every rational part of my brain was screaming at me to walk away, to maintain the boundaries that kept us both safe.
But my body had other ideas. I could smell his arousal mixing with the lingering scent of exertion, could hear the slight hitch in his breathing that told me he was just as affected as I was.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” I said, my control hanging by the thinnest of threads.
“Don’t I?” He pressed closer, and I could feel the firm line of his cock through his fencing whites. “Because I remember exactly what you’re capable of, Valen. And I want it again.”
I swallowed hard, barely maintaining control. “If you want history lessons, we can work something out,” I said at last, taking a step back from him. “Anything else is off the table.”
His smile faltered, but he didn’t back down. Not even a little. “Extra lessons would be amazing,” he replied, taking another step forward. “Like I said, I think there’s a lot more you can teach me.”
“The only thing you’re getting taught is history. I’m not interested in anything else with a headstrong witch like you.”
Something flickered in his eyes at that, something that looked almost like hurt before it was replaced by determination. “Fine,” he said, stepping back just enough to give me breathing room. “History lessons it is.”
I should have felt relieved. Instead, I felt oddly disappointed, which was fucking ridiculous. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? Professional boundaries maintained, no complications, no risk to either of our futures.
“Good,” I said, though the word tasted bitter. “We can meet in my office. Tuesdays and Thursdays after your regular class. One-hour sessions.”
“Perfect.” He was already moving toward the door, but he paused with his hand on the handle. “Just so we’re clear about these history lessons, Professor. Will they cover all aspects of vampire culture? Or just the sanitized version they put in textbooks?”
The question caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if I’m going to learn about vampire integration into magical society, shouldn’t I understand all the challenges they faced?
The prejudices, the misconceptions, the way their basic needs were misunderstood or demonized?
” His blue eyes met mine directly, and there was something almost challenging in his gaze.
“How can I fully appreciate the historical context without understanding what vampires actually are? What they require to survive?”
My mouth went dry. He was asking about feeding. About the types of energy vampires like me needed to sustain ourselves. Either he was more perceptive than I’d given him credit for, or he was fishing for information about what had really happened between us in that alley.
“That’s... a complex topic,” I managed.
“I’m a complex student.” He smiled, and this time it was purely innocent. “I’ll see you Thursday, Professor. For my first lesson.”
Then he was gone, leaving me alone in the salle with the lingering scent of his pheromones and the uncomfortable realization that I’d just agreed to spend even more time alone with him. Time that was supposedly about history but felt like it was going to be about so much more.
I sank down onto one of the benches, running my hands through my hair. What the hell was I doing? This was exactly the opposite of what I should be doing. I should be avoiding him, not scheduling private meetings in my office where anything could happen.
But the alternative, watching him from across classrooms and fencing practice, wanting him and never being able to touch him again… that felt like torture. At least this way, I could maintain some semblance of control over the situation. Keep things academic. Professional.
Even so, every instinct I had was screaming that Archer Quinn had no intention of keeping anything professional at all.