22. Mind vs Heart
Mind vs Heart
KYRA
Entering my next lesson, Russ’s warmth from getting too close continues holding me captive, surrounding me in a cocoon of need.
He is a mix between a high school crush and the boy next door.
I’ve never had the pleasure of knowing either, but from Rosie’s collected movies, he fits the bill.
Am I crazy for wanting to experience more of… him? His smile, eyes, body–
“Find a seat,” a male in front announces, sitting behind a granite carved desk with a book blocking his features. Angry much?
I’m surprised at being early despite the two hilarious inconveniences. Thinking about it, Russ said, “I’ll be late,” and now I know he was removing Raine as an obstacle. Not jealous my ass.
There are three other students in attendance, and none of them were in my previous classes. A blessing and breath of fresh air. Not being the last one in means I can sit anywhere.
Stepping further inside, I can feel that this classroom’s ambiance is different. Hungrier. Without a single window to take refuge by, and with the floating candles being our only source of light, it’s also darker. Interesting.
Instead of single desks, there are staggered rows of blue marbled tables panning from one side to the other.
Along with two sets of stairs on both ends, leading towards the top.
Elegant pillars spread about, stretching from the floor up, and I crane my head, viewing a tinted glass ceiling, which gives an illusion of it being dark out.
It appears each room has a theme, and this one screams Greek. Or Roman. I’m beyond uncultured when it comes to this stuff.
The one noticeable item is a white, wooden podium, standing center of this crypt shaped room. Perchance a mausoleum shape, but again, uncultured.
“There has to be one in here,” I mutter, looking around for a God or Goddess statue. Each room before had one.
“What has to be in here?” An inquiring voice asks from behind as I take my seat two rows in and place my bookbag down. Giving him my attention, I discover a shadow stopping me from seeing who he really is.
“Excuse me?”
“You said, ‘there has to be one in here.’ Unless you’re an insane fay who talks to herself, you’re in search of something, and I hope it’s juicy.”
Scoffing, I say, “I’m not crazy, and yes, I was talking to myself.” Turning around, I continue my search. Who the hell does this guy think he is?
“Then it must be juicy. Scoot over.”
Without giving me a chance to protest, he invades my space, throwing a leg over the desk and hopping down to take a seat beside me, moving his head back and forth.
I whisper, “What are you doing?” trying not to alert our teacher–professor, or whatever he goes by.
“Helping you look. And before you demand I return to my seat, no. Now we can waste time bickering about it, or we can help one another find this ‘mysterious item,’” he insists, avoiding my glare.
More students enter and fill the remaining seats, chattering about their previous lectures, and glancing over everyone in attendance. I’m fighting to understand what is going on when the guy beside me shoots a hand up and points.
“He bonded a shifter before attending here.” Raising his voice, he accuses one of the arriving students.
Talk about perfect timing. “Yes you, Draco. No one cares. Don’t come in here telling the same story from our previous class.
” Draco frowns, his face red with embarrassment, and I muffle an escaping chuckle from his rude outburst. He rotates his extended hand my way. “I’m Blaise, and you are?”
Why not? “Kyra.”
“Kyra? It’s cute enough.” Excuse me, the fuc… “So, what’re we looking for?” There is no time to answer, or object, as the last student arrives, and the door shuts behind her.
She saunters in, eye-fucking our professor in the worst way. I mean damn. As a woman myself, it’s enough to make me cringe. Biting her lip, moaning, and fanning herself as if no one else is watching. And the book still hides his face. Insane.
“The rules of my class are simple. Under no circumstances will you show any form of affection while here. If a private part is exposed, you’ll leave without it.” What the hell kind of rule is this?
“That goes for you, Leander,” Blaise announces, turning around and once again pointing to a male wearing a manbun, sitting near the top. “Keep it in your pants.”
“Dude, it was one time, and by accident.”
“One too many,” he bites back, and a hearty laugh pushes out of me.
Our professor turns a page from the novel he is reading, and I can’t help but wonder why such a rule exists anyway. Were students letting it all hang out, or did he mean something else?
“A few of you may be wondering why this rule exists.” Yep, and I can’t be alone in this. “We’ll discuss it later, and not another time afterwards. You’ve been warned.” *Sigh* He turns another page while Blaise, still sitting next to me, pulls out a little brown book and pen.
Whispering, I ask, “Should we be taking n– ”
“Shhh.” He blows out one hell of a breath, and my face prickles with embarrassment. Other students turn our way, scowling at who interrupts, which is me, sending heat flushing down my neck. “Go ahead, sir, she won’t interrupt again.” Oh, this piece of shi…
“Rule two of my class, under no circumstances will you waste my time trying to figure out your bond, or lack thereof. And finally, rule three…” He places the book concealing his face down, and if there is a God amongst men, it’s him. Damn he looks delicious.
He is every bit of their statues I’ve seen around school. Each cut of his fine, sculpted muscles shows through his rolled-up sleeves. Two buttons are undone at the top, displaying the divots in his collarbone, along with the line going down his chest.
I’m watching a ticking time bomb. Every inhale pushes his muscles against the shirt’s thin fabric, waiting to see if those buttons are going to give in and break his first rule.
The stubble along his jawline helps define his prominent features as his fiery red hair complements the brush of his desert bronze skin. And those eyes, mixed with sky blue and lavender, shadowed by an amazing length of lashes…
Handsome is putting it mildly.
“Uh huh, I thought so.” Blaise’s tone pulls me away from ogling my professor. Odd how his face continues hiding beneath a lingering shadow, like he is placed in the perfect spot to be hidden.
Scribbling in his little brown leather book, he pauses to render a side-eye of me, and I catch a glimpse of his features.
Tousled raven-black curls, which appear…
neat in a way, with the side facing me shaved.
His eyes remain hidden behind a foggy shadow, but the corner of his lips perk as I watch him grin.
Nervous, my pitch lowers. “Thought what–and what are you writing?”
“You like him,” he rebuts, pointing at said professor. Once more, all heads turn our direction thanks to him not understanding the concept of whispering. In haste, I frown, smacking his hand down.
“No, I don’t.” I try not to implode from his outburst. More confusion spreads amongst the masses, and I pray for a hole to swallow me.
“Kyra has a temper and disagrees. Interesting,” he announces, scribbling more into his book.
“Stop,” I plead. He isn’t wrong, but I prefer that no one else knows. Plus, why is he interested in me? We barely know one another. There are plenty more students here, so can we get back to Draco, or can he move, because Blaise is working my damn nerves.
Up front, our professor clears his throat, and I hope he didn’t hear any of this, but he sighs, staring at us both. Great. Now he thinks I’m lusting after him. I mean I am, but in my head, so it doesn’t count.
“This rule needs to be written on the board. Why, you ask? Because, if any of you persistently ask me when it’s coming, you’ll be prohibited from participating in the ritual.
Heed this second warning, for once the opportunity is missed, the God himself will seek vengeance.
And I won’t be the one he comes for when it inevitably happens.
” He smolders. Or glares. Nope, he is smoldering and drawing attention to his broad, toned shoulders. Kyra stop. What is wrong with me?
A flick of his hand and, ‘The book will come when it decides to,’ writes across the blackboard. Students break into a whisper, chatting amongst themselves with small sentences reaching me.
“I want him as a bond. I’d let him thrust into me until the sun comes up,” murmurs the same female from before, who eye-fucked him walking in.
“By the Gods, he’s an Earth user. I heard their cocks are blessed by Eros’s brother, Himeros. You know what that means?” whispers another. These females are practically drooling at the mouth, yet here I am confused at what kind of book has them behaving this way.
This class just started, and I have three more questions than before I walked in.
What is a bond, why is there a rule about getting naked, and now this book?
What kind of class–no Academy is this? Asking Blaise is pointless.
He is busy jotting down notes, but above everything else, he is a dick. So, silence is my best option .
My stare returns up front, and I notice he too is observing the room.
But like a damn calling beacon, those beautiful azul and lavender irises stop on mine, luring me in with a devouring presence.
My inner self cowers into the shadows hidden within my mind, and for an everlasting second, the urge to look away doesn’t exist–yet it does.
He squints, and a feather of flush layers his cheeks.
Maybe it’s the above light, or perhaps my vision is playing tricks on me.
Before examining further, he stands, turning around, and oh–hell I wish he hadn’t.
The one thing most guys I’ve come across have lacked, he has.
A nice ass. I mean look at it. It’s begging to be squeezed. Firm and perfectly round. Damn!