Chapter 04
“Drake Loftus, please stay after class,” Miss Colleen Gentry said as she handed him his essay.
A big red F was circled at the top. Stupid English.
Stupid teachers. He didn’t bother looking at the paper.
He hadn’t cared to research and write it, but had put some effort in.
One bad grade was no big deal. The rest of his grades were good so one lousy grade was fine.
At fourteen he was ready to ditch the whole thing and go rogue. Well, not really, but the fantasy was fun. Teachers kept telling him he was smart. If he just applied himself, he’d have a future.
It was the kind of stuff they told all the orphanage kids. Pretty lies that made it sound like the outside world was any better. It wasn’t. He’d been there, done that. Everyone was trying to get a step up by stepping on someone else.
Those pretty lies didn’t stop Mark Smith from taking his life three weeks ago.
At sixteen, Mark had almost been out on his own with a wolf.
Just a year and a half to go. He didn’t leave a note.
He just left his body hanging in the boy’s bathroom.
Pack Authority had tried to investigate but they didn’t find a reason.
The only thing Drake knew was that Mark had been a happy kid two years ago.
The older he got, the more reclusive he’d become.
He’d pushed friends away and hid out in the library.
Being in the library meant sitting in silence.
The bell rang and classmates filed out of the room.
Not all the kids in the school were orphans.
The orphans and the kids with parents rarely developed any real friendships outside of the classroom.
Even at lunch, the orphans had their own section of the dining hall.
The kids with families got picked up or walked home after school.
The orphanage kids walked back to their dorms. The orphanage was on the backside of the school.
Convenience and efficiency. Drake was just glad he was getting three meals a day.
He gathered his books and walked up to Miss Gentry’s desk, stupid paper in hand.
“You wanted to see me, Miss Gentry?” Drake asked as he put the paper down on her desk. He figured she wanted to go over it with him now.
At thirty, she was still pretty. Drake liked watching her walk around the classroom, or bend over desks to help different students.
The quick peak at her cleavage fueled his fourteen year old dirty fantasies.
Those fantasies usually involved a gorgeous redhead yelling mate over and over, just like in the porn clip his friend Oliver Kline had shown him.
“I’ve made arrangements to tutor you the rest of the year. You’ll be coming to my house every Thursday night for extra lessons, and dinner, since you’ll miss it at the orphanage.”
“Tutoring? I can do better. I just, I don’t know, got busy.” Drake was dumbfounded. One stupid F and now he needed tutoring? Even if it was with Miss Gentry, he thought sullenly.
“It’s Thursday and we start tonight. I’ll see you at 4. I live just a block down the street. My house is the one with the white picket fence and flowers. Blue with white trimming. You boys run by it every day during track practice. You’ve been given permission to walk there and back.”
“But…”
“No buts. I don’t want to report that you refused. I’ll see you at 4, Mr. Loftus.”
“What if I rewrite the paper? Turn it back in?”
“Drake,” she said softly and gave him a smile, almost sensual. No woman, or girl, had ever looked at him that way. “Drake, I think there is so much more you can do. You have the potential to be an amazing writer. Let me help you. Let me show you how good you can truly be.”
“But, I mean, couldn’t I just come here after class?” Drake fidgeted with his backpack.
Miss Gentry stood up and leaned over her desk, hands planted on the desktop to keep her balance.
She always had her reddish brown hair curled to land just above her breasts.
Her makeup was always perfectly done, too.
She kept a little mirror on her desk to check that her lipstick hadn’t smeared.
Drake’s eyes followed her hair down to get a good look at cleavage and her pretty purple lace bra.
She must not have any idea how low her shirt was.
He could feel a blush creeping up his neck to his face.
Even as he tried, he couldn’t look away.
“Plus, I’m always starving after working hard all day. The least I can do is make a meal for you taking time out of your day to become the best writer this school has ever seen.” She smiled and winked at him. Her bosom jiggled as she stood back up. That little jiggle was fascinating.
“Oh, okay. I guess. Um, I’ll see you after school, I guess.” Drake ducked his head and stared at the floor. He really shouldn’t be checking his teacher out.
“Don’t be late,” she said. There was something in the sound of her voice that made Drake squirm. It was a husky sound. He’d have thought sexy but she was his teacher. And after the stare he’d had at her boobs, he was probably imagining it.
Mark had been tutored by Miss Gentry. He’d seen Mark trudging down the street every Tuesday to her house.
A few other boys made the same walk on different nights of the week.
None of them seemed happy to go there and none of them ever talked about it when other boys teased them.
It was always with a hint of jealously on the other boy’s part because Miss Gentry was hot, hot enough Drake was feeling completely inappropriate towards a teacher.
She just wanted to help him, but this didn’t feel right.
His other grades were good. Not perfect, but he was passing.
No other teacher said he needed tutoring because he never got an F on any paper. It was just one time.
Plus, everyone knew the only reason Miss Gentry got this teaching position was because her uncle was on the school board.
He was rich and made sure the school and orphanage had all the supplies they needed.
There were also all kinds of rumors surrounding the Gentry family.
One thing for certain, they stuck together.
Miss Gentry never tutored the kids who still had parents.
She was praised for the time she poured into the ‘poor orphan children’.
And from the student’s perspective, she wasn’t a favorite teacher.
Rumor had it she barely passed her college classes or the exam for her official teachers license.
She was so boring to listen to. Mostly she read the textbook to them.
There never seemed to be much teaching involved.
The boys just liked the eye candy she provided.
Drake had come to the orphanage at the age of five.
He never knew his father. His mother, Trina Reese, had been killed in a rogue attack.
No one had ever answered his questions about his mom’s death.
They just said she was out in the woods.
It was an unfortunate event. He didn’t remember much about her either.
Images of a beautiful blond woman smiling down at him was the extent of his memories.
He did remember the endless parade of prepubescent babysitters.
And sometimes, he stayed at an old lady’s house, Granny May.
He’d liked the old lady. She’d always baked cookies with him. Her house had smelled like a bakery.
Mom never did explain what happened to his father.
At least, she never explained it to Drake.
He’d been too young to be very curious about the guy before she died.
Through the years, he’d thought about asking Alpha Trevor if he could find out about his father, how he died, who he’d been.
Maybe he was still alive and his mom lied?
Who knows, she’d died when he was too young to know the right questions.
The guy had never been involved in Drake’s life. Maybe he really was dead. Maybe he didn’t know about Drake. He didn’t know how hard it was to hide a pregnancy, or if it was possible at all. The only thing he knew was that his dad’s last name was Loftus.
Drake sighed in resignation as he threw his backpack over his shoulders and headed down the street. Miss Gentry’s house was a short walk down the block. A white picket fence lined with flowers led up to the door. Drake knocked and waited for her to open it.
She answered with a smile on her painted lips and a dress that showed all her cleavage. Drake had only seen women dressed like that in fashion magazines. It was the last thing he’d expected to see her in. Seemed strange to see her dressed so provocatively, like she’d been reading his mind.
“There’s the cute boy. Come in. Go sit on the couch.”
Drake did as he was told. The dress cut off just below her butt cheeks. And if he was watching, red panties flashed at him as she came to sit right next to him. In the safety of the classroom, this would have been a fun fantasy. In the seclusion of her living room, it didn’t feel right.
Drake tried to lean away, uncomfortable with how close she was.
One arm was on the back of the couch. Her thigh touched his.
The heat bled through his jeans. He hated the feel, like she was marking him.
Her manicured hand rubbed circles on his inner thigh.
More heat seeping into his skin through the jeans.
No one had ever touched him like this before. He didn’t know how to stop her.
“Please don’t,” he whispered, too afraid to move. The look on her face scared him.
Miss Gentry smiled gently at Drake. She looked weirdly excited to have him sitting so close. “Sh, little lover. You’re friends with Oliver, yes?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Drake swallowed hard. She scooted closer. Her other hand sank into his hair, stopping him from moving away from her mouth.
“You can do as I tell you and keep your mouth shut at school and the orphanage, or I can invite Oliver over to play instead.”
Her hand moved closer to his crotch. Drake was shocked to feel himself respond.
The feel of her hand was disgusting, unwelcome.
How could something that disgusted him also make him respond?
He gripped the arm of the couch. He wanted to get up and run but her wolf was faster than him. He couldn’t leave.
“You’ll leave him and the other boys alone if I do as you say?”
Drake felt his throat tightening up. He couldn’t let someone else get near her because he chickened out. He’d always believed the strong were supposed to protect the weak. He was definitely stronger than Oliver. He just didn’t know if he was stronger than Mark.
Miss Gentry started unbuttoning his shirt. Drake caught her hand as she moved down his chest. The angry glint in her eye made him pause. He didn’t want this. She shouldn’t be touching him.
“Please, let me go,” he whispered one more time. He felt like his was going to hyperventilate.
“Maybe Oliver will be a good boy? I’d hate to have to send you to a new home. There are worse places to live then here, cutie pie.” Drake gasped at the threat clearly oozing out of her voice. Miss Gentry kissed his cheek. “Kiss me, Drake. Let me show you how good it can be.”
Drake woke up with a start, covered in sweat, head throbbing, heart racing.
He hated that damn memory. It played as a dream over and over again.
That had been two years ago. Two years of servicing Miss Gentry because she was a perverted wench he just wanted to kill.
That dream was always at its worst on Wednesday nights.
The night before he’d walk to her house where he’d be raped again.
The night always ended with her legs wrapped around his hips as she screamed in orgasm.
He’s spent the last two years putting on weight, muscle weight. She had her wolf so she was still stronger, but he was working on fixing that. Last Thursday, she’d shown him a putrid pink vial. It forced a mate-bond. She’d told him that would happen when he turned eighteen.
Time was counting down. Now she had the potion to go through with the plan.
For some awful reason, she was obsessed with him.
All he felt was rage, hate, and disgust for her.
One day, he was going to kill her. Then, he’d be arrested and executed for murder.
He’d die happy knowing she couldn’t get her hands on anyone else.
He’d looked into Mark Smith’s death and found out Mark had tried to get help, but that authority figure hadn’t believed him.
The truth was, that authority figure was Miss Gentry’s cousin.
The Gentry's stuck together. Drake didn’t believe Mark killed himself.
He was killed to keep the dirty Gentry’s dirty secrets safe.
When he left his room to go use the restroom, a note was on his door to see the orphanage coordinator before going to school.
That usually meant he was going to get extra training.
They’d noticed his gym time, that he’d bulked up.
One of the trainers, William, had taken him under his wing and was teaching him how to fight.
So, he knew he could outmaneuver Miss Gentry, but he had to make sure he could actually put the rabid bitch down. He would be her last victim.
William had been pretty chill to hang out with, train with.
He was great at teaching hand to hand combat.
Drake had really enjoyed learning how to watch body language, see what moves were coming by how an opponent moved.
He’d never realized how well a warrior could read an attacker and anticipate what they were going to do next.
Over the past year, he’d been able to take William down to the mat four times. Those had been good days.
The only problem was William kept asking things about Drake’s life outside of the gym.
He didn’t want to talk about what his life was like because that brought up thoughts of Miss Gentry.
He sure as hell wasn’t going to talk about Miss Gentry.
She was the reason he had no life, no future.
And after spending two years listening to her talk about her victims, he knew she could ruin a guy’s life.
William was able to break his bubble once last week, though.
It was a moment of weakness on Drake’s part even though the topic was harmless enough.
William had asked him if he’d ever met his father.
Drake only wished he’d known him, even for a moment.
According to his mom, his father died before he was born.
Whatever the case, maybe he had family out there somewhere.
Miss Gentry had made him see the benefit of having family.
It wasn't because her family was great, but because the boys that had family had been safe from her. What would it have been like to be surrounded by people that had one’s back?