by Katie May
He stiffens, back hunching, as if he can feel my eyes caressing his skin.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he turns around.
I’m not going to lie: I totally expected a Hallmark movie moment. Our eyes meeting, and the attraction between us becoming undeniable. Maybe a slow motion skip towards one another.
Alas, reality hurts like a bitch.
Dimitri Gray—sex and sin personified—glares at me. His eyes are thin slits, and his face is hard.
The man’s tall, almost abnormally so. Tall and lean and so heartbreakingly gorgeous I feel my heart speed up.
His eyes sweep over me as if I’m an insignificant bug. Not even a bug he’ll want to smush—just an annoyingly pesky bug that happens to be in his classroom, one he doesn’t care enough about to kill.
Without a word, he grabs the stack of papers and begins distributing them to the class. A few of the girls flutter their lashes at him, reaching for his arm. He ignores them all with a frosty glare.
When he drops the paper onto my desk, I could’ve sworn his fist hit the table harder than necessary.
I exchange a look with Frankie, one that eloquently states, “What the hell is his problem?”
Frankie shrugs one shoulder, eyes fixated firmly on the smoldering professor. His gaze can almost be described as challenging. Dimitri meets it with an impassive one of his own.
“You have one hour,” Dimitri says curtly, moving back to his desk in the front. “Begin.”
Begin?
I glance down at the stapled paper, shocked to see it’s a motherfucking exam. An exam on things I’ve never learned before. Even Frankie is diligently bent over his test, though his eyes flicker to me occasionally.
How the hell does Dimitri freaking Gray expect me to complete this when I’ve never studied the material?
I hesitate for a brief moment, shifting uncomfortably in my chair, before grabbing the test and moving to the front of the classroom. Dimitri’s head is lowered as he works on grading what appears to be a paper.
I wait at the edge of his desk, but he doesn’t bother to acknowledge me. I know he can fucking hear me breathing.
Clearing my throat once, I wait for his eyes to flicker up. When they don’t, I release a heavy breath and drop the exam onto his desk. His hand pauses in its scribbling, but his eyes still do not raise.
“I can’t take this, Dim—Mr. Gray,” I correct.
His hand tightens over the pen.
“I haven’t learned the material yet,” I explain. “I’m new here, you see, and—”
Without a word, he takes the test, rips it into shreds, and throws them into the garbage can beside him.
I blink at him wordlessly.
“Oh, um...thanks. I was thinking I could—”
“Headmaster’s office,” Dimitri says in a cold voice. “Now.”
I’m probably catching flies with how far my mouth is opened.
“Huh?”
“The consequence of failing one of my exams is a trip to the headmaster’s office,” he continues. “You just failed. Headmaster’s office. Go.”
He looks back down at his test, clearly dismissing me.
All I can do is stand there and gape at him like an imbecile.
Is he for fucking real?
“Sir,” Frankie interjects, standing from his seat as well. It’s apparent he’s been eavesdropping on our conversation instead of focusing on his own exam. “I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding. Violet, here, has—”
“Hand me your test.” Dimitri extends his hand, palm up, while one hand writes with red ink on the paper he has resumed grading. His eyes never raise.
“But sir—”
“Test. Then the headmaster's office. Now.”
Frankie, visibly bristling, stalks forward with his own test. He hands it to Dimitri who wastes no time ripping it up and tossing it in the trash can.
When we both remain standing there, at a loss for words, Dimitri raises his head once more.
And pierces me with ice blue eyes.
“Go. Now.” With a grunt, he forces his gaze off of me and back on the paper he’s grading. It almost appears as if his hand is physically shaking.
“Fine, whatever,” I huff, gripping Frankie’s arm and dragging him along behind me. Frankie still seems shocked, eyes glazed over, but he allows me to pull him out of the classroom.
Away from Dimitri’s penetrating stare.
What a prick.
Chapter 19
Violet
I’m fuming by the time I get to the headmaster’s office, in the lower basement of the academic building.
I probably planned Dimitri’s murder five hundred times in a million different ways. My favorite? It involves monkeys, yellow paint, and a dick.
The receptionist greets us with a stern-faced scowl and a nod of her head.
“He’ll see you in a second,” she says, no doubt having been told why we’re here.
One glance at her confirms she’s some sort of...other monster. Webbed fingers that must make typing a pain. Feathers on her neck and cheek. Fangs poking her bottom lip.
Maybe some sort of bird lady?
Frankie and I sit side by side in the sparsely furnished lobby. It consists of a dozen or so chairs arranged in a semi-circle against the wall, annoyingly red carpeting, and a single receptionist desk.
After a moment, the door behind the desk opens, and a tall, domineering man emerges.
The headmaster.
He regards Frankie and I with disdain before making a come-hither gesture. Both of us immediately rise, but the crooked finger turns into a palm.
“The girl only,” he says ominously, and Frankie gives me an anxious glance. I nod my head once, trying to convey with my eyes that it’ll be okay. He doesn’t look convinced but reluctantly sits back down.
Grabbing my backpack, I follow the headmaster into his office.
It’s a combination of reds and golds, just like the lobby, with accents in golden tones. There’s a bookshelf against the far wall, the books devoid of dust and obviously well-loved, and a suit of armor in the corner. The man himself sits behind the table in a high-back leather chair. He steeples his hands together and levels me with a serious look.
“Do you know why you’re here?” he asks—and since I forgot his name, I’m just going to refer to him as Headmaster. A very hairy headmaster. Didn’t Dad say he was a descendent of the Wolfman?
“Not really, no,” I answer honestly.
He nods his head once, picking up a statue and turning it over in his hands. It appears to be a cow with ruby red eyes and a silver, nondescript body.
“I got a strange message from Mr. Gray that you were disrupting class. Care to explain?”
Yup. I hate that guy. Death to professors is my new life motto. Except for maybe Ms. Stevens. She seems kind of cool. Maybe Dimitri needs to fuck her and get some of her happy juice inside of him.
Wait…
No.
“I wasn’t being disruptive,” I try placatingly. “I was just questioning the logistics of taking a test on my first day of school. I didn’t know the material, and I thought it was unfair.”
There. Straight to the point. I should consider a career as a lawyer if the whole monster gig doesn’t work out.
“That may be, but here at Prodigium, we follow a strict regimen. If you’re not up to the task…” He trails off, ripping his eyes from me to stare down at his cow thingy.
“I’m up for the task,” I assure him. “I’m super duper up for it.”
He pauses once more.
“It’s a shame Mr. Gray decided to have his exam today. And it’s even more a shame that you were removed from his class. We planned on sending recruiters from the Roaring, and I think you would make a fine athlete.”
I barely, just barely, keep from snorting. Me? An athlete? Hilarious.
I run for food and sex, that’s it.
Do you know what it’s like to run with big boobs? They fucking jig
gle. You can be wearing the best damn sports bra in the world, and they’ll still billow in the breeze. And don’t even get me started on chub rub.
Frankly, my body is not meant for activity. At least not the physical kind.
Okay, at least not the physical kind that doesn’t involve at least one orgasm.
“Am I in trouble, sir?” I ask, bracing myself. Dad is going to be pissed when I tell him.
“Should you be?” he counters with a severe frown.
Trap. This is a trap.
“No?” My statement turns into a question, and I inwardly wince.
But Headmaster seems to take my words at face value and nods his head. I almost sag against the chair in relief.
“Fortunately, Mr. Gray demanded that I not expel you. But do not, I repeat, do not disrupt class again. Next time, fail the exam the old fashioned way. Understand?”
“Understood, sir.” I’m eager to escape the stuffy office. I have one more class scheduled for the day, and then it’s sleep, sleep, sleep.
Mama likes her sleep.
And…
I should stop referring to myself as Mama. People might get the wrong idea.
“You’re excused.” I all but scramble out of the chair, stubbing my toe in the process. “Don’t bother sending Mr. Frankenstein back here. You are both excused until your next class. I recommend you two make the most of your free hour. Maybe talk to the Roaring recruiters?” He sounds so hopeful, so optimistic, that I shrug my shoulders. Why not? I have nothing better to do.
“Thank you, sir,” I say, running out of the room. He grunts in reply.
Frankie is sitting anxiously in the uncomfortable chair, fingers twitching. When I exit, he jumps to his feet to meet me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, eyes roaming over me. I capture his hands with mine, holding them between us.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “And we’re free to go.”
“Both of us?” He glances hesitantly over my shoulder, towards the closed door, but when Headmaster doesn’t come charging out, he relaxes.
“Both of us.” I send him a relieved smile, and we both head back into the empty hall. “Maybe you can show me your lab now?” I ask, kicking my leg out nervously.
He pauses, and a slow smile begins to form on his handsome face.
“Or maybe…” He takes a step closer, the toes of his shoes touching mine.
“Or maybe?” I breathe.
“We can do something else instead.”
My stomach flutters like thousands of butterflies have been set free. I really, really like the way this sounds.
“You’re such an asshole,” I groan.
“You need to catch up,” is Frankie’s unperturbed response.
We sit in the moderately empty library, a stack of books piled on the table before me. The library is exactly how I’d picture one to look in a gothic castle—maybe even the Beast’s library in Beauty and the Beast.
It has ornately carved wooden shelves, stacks upon stacks of books, and a few tables scattered throughout.
“This sucks,” I groan, burying my face in a text that dictates life as a monster in the early eighteenth century. Riveting stuff, I’ll tell ya.
“And you’re behind,” he says reasonably.
Before I can protest, a pretty redhead steps up to our table.
“Frankie, can I talk to you for a second?” she questions, and something about her—whether it’s her behavior, or her perky breasts practically spilling out of her shirt, or the fact that she’s talking to Frankie in the first place—puts me on edge.
Frankie doesn’t glance up from the book he’s looking at with me.
“I’m not working right now. Please come back during my office hours,” he replies dismissively.
Her lips purse into a thin line.
With a sly glance at me, she turns once more towards Frankie.
“I need to talk to you. I want you to take a look at the breasts you gave me. Make sure they’re still up to your standards.” She’s practically purring at the end of it.
When Frankie remains silent, still staring intently at my textbook as he struggles through a passage, the redhead whips off her shirt.
Yup.
That happened.
I’m suddenly face to face with two perky breasts. Two perfect breasts. Very symmetrical and round.
Frankie did a damn good job.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” Frankie says in a bored voice. Turning towards me, he asks, “Did you read the history of Dracula? Absolutely fascinating. I think we should start there. It’ll help you with your origins.”
Little Miss Perky Breasts still can’t get the memo. She’s fondling them, pinching her perfect nipples, winking seductively at an oblivious Frankie.
I kind of want to kill her.
Like, girl, stay in your lane. He’s obviously here with another girl and isn’t interested in you.
But when she touches him, leaning forward so her bare fucking breasts brush his arm, I see red. Something inside of me just...snaps.
So yeah.
That is how I got detention my very first day at Monster Academy.
Chapter 20
Mason
I’m in an unnaturally good mood.
Granted, that could be the drugs coursing through my system, but I think it’s something else. Or, more accurately, someone else.
Violet.
Pinkie.
I have a swarm of gnats in my stomach, and just the thought of her causes them to buzz with a vengeance.
It’s been a day, and I’m already pussy-whipped. Proudly so.
I couldn’t even concentrate in a class I once adored. Okay, so maybe I fucked the teacher, but I’m a changed man now. A one-woman type of man. When the slimy professor attempts to keep me after class for a quickie, I smile coldly and offer her my middle finger. She can do with it what she wants, even shove it up her ass.
Vin and Jack fall into step with me as we hurry down the hallway. We’re an odd pair, the three of us. Errr...odd triplets, the three of us.
“Pinkie, Pinkie, I’m coming for Pinkie,” I sing, dancing on the tips of my toes.
“Can you shut the fuck up?” Vin snaps.
I simply wrap an arm around his neck and sing at the top of my lungs, “Pinkie! I need my Pinkie!” Lowering my voice to a whisper, I breathe, “Pinkie. I want my Pinkie,” before quickly snaking my tongue out to lick his ear.
He shoves me away in disgust, flashing me a frosty glare. I roar with laughter, and even Jack flashes a small, albeit hesitant, smile.
“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Vin sneers, wiping the saliva from his ear. He grabs the hem of my untucked flannel and cleans his fingers on there. “Save your saliva for Vi.”
“Vi. Vin. Pretty similar sounding names,” I muse, my mind stuck on the thought of using my saliva on my mate. Fuck yes. My cock twitches in my pants, and I know it will only be pacified by the sweet, sweet mouth of my sweet, sweet mate. Or her sopping wet pussy. “Maybe you are related,” I finish distractedly.
Vin flashes me a fucking horrified look, and I can’t stop myself from breaking into laughter once more. I slap my knees, bending over, and Vin whacks me on the back of my head.
“Don’t be an asshole,” he mutters, still sounding slightly sick to his stomach at the prospect of being related to Violet.
I’m not stupid, despite contrary belief. I see the way he looks at her even when he pretends not to. Vin, in all the years since I have befriended him, has never once apologized. Not once. Not even when he fell asleep on a girl in the middle of sex because she was taking too long to orgasm. Not when he accidentally stabbed the wrong guy in the back on a hunt. Not when he punched me in the face after that bitch, Cheryl, seduced me.
But Violet? He was practically groveling at her feet, begging for forgiveness. She has his balls wrapped inside her dainty hands, and she doesn’t even realize it yet.
I also know he was only trying to protect her in the
cafeteria this morning (was it really only this morning?), and that he had obviously changed his mind about keeping his distance. What changed?
I know it’s impossible for them to be mates—Van Helsings don’t have fated mates, for one—so I can’t discern what his fascination is with her. It should bother me, this obvious lust and infatuation, but it doesn’t.
I mean, sure, I’d like Violet all to myself, but I know she’ll never be truly happy with just me. She needs Jack’s kindness to balance her out. Vin’s steadfast protection. Hux’s devotion. Even Frankie’s unemotional worldview. I understand that, and I accept it.
There’s no pain at the thought of the other men with Violet, no jealousy. Hell, I wouldn’t even mind joining in when—or if—one of them takes her.
The thought of my Pinkie has me hurrying the last few steps down the hall, stopping in front of Dimitri’s door. Their class still appears to be in session, so I lean against the wall and cross my arms over my chest. Vin moves to mimic my position, and Jack shoves his hands into his pockets, looking unexplainably pensive.
Before I can question his strange behavior, the door to the class opens, and students begin to filter out. I’m practically bouncing, craning my neck to and fro to catch a glimpse of her golden hair.
“Pinkie, Pinkie, Pinkie,” I sing beneath my breath, and Vin flashes me a disgruntled look.
“You’re such a child,” he hisses.
“Takes one to know one,” I retort—probably proving that I am, in fact, a child.
When the last of the students leave the classroom, and Violet still hasn’t revealed herself, my excitement turns into panic. Could something have happened to her during the short time we were away?
Vin strides forward, unsheathing his fucking sword like a badass motherfucker. Seriously, where did he keep that thing? I’ve definitely not noticed anything on his person the last couple hours.
“Where is my precious treasure?” Hux’s dark voice hisses. He had discarded his glasses and pushed his hair behind his ears. Like Vin, he takes an intimidating step forward. I try to trail along behind looking similarly badass. But to be frank? A guy in a beanie with a glazed look in his eyes can’t be badass. It’s literally impossible.
