“Violet…” Jack begins in a soft voice. It wraps around me like a tightening leash, threatening to propel me straight into his arms. Once I’m there, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to leave again.
“Look at that spider web!” I deflect quickly, pointing to a spider web in the corner of the room. “That’s one sexy-ass spider, if I do say so myself.”
“Violet—”
“Oh, look. There’s a bloodstain on the wall. I never noticed it before. I wonder who was killed here.”
“Violet…”
“And there’s a—” Before I can finish my next observation, Jack breaches the distance between us and kisses me.
Kisses me.
Internally, I’m screaming like a fucking tween holding the hand of her crush. His lips are soft against my own, and licks of fire erupt on my skin.
I hesitantly tangle my fingers in his thick black hair as he kisses me faster and faster, nails pressing into my waist.
You shouldn’t be doing this, a voice whispers in the back of my head. Darkness nips at my heels as Jack’s tongue prods the seam of my lips, demanding entrance. Frankie just confessed that he is your mate. Isn’t this…cheating?
Then why does it feel so right?
I shove those thoughts away—fucking annihilate them—and focus on kissing Jack back with reckless abandon.
For a brief moment, I think that Jack has transitioned into Hux without my knowledge. The kisses are harsh and brutal. He bites down hard on my lower lip, drawing blood, before licking it up. When I meet his hooded eyes framed by glasses, I know that it’s still Jack kissing me, still Jack gripping my waist with a bruising intensity.
I tilt my head to the side, giving him access to my neck. He kisses down the column of my throat, his breathing just as ragged as mine.
I did that. Me. I caused this collected man to unravel in my arms with lust.
Jack stops abruptly, his lips hovering over my fully covered breasts, and wrenches himself away from me. His cheeks are flushed, and his hair is wildly tousled from my hands. The sight of him sends a pang of primal satisfaction and possessiveness through me.
“Hux is so freaking pissed at me,” Jack murmurs, gripping his head. His glasses begin to slide down his nose, but before they can fall off completely, I crawl forward and push them back into place. His eyes flicker up towards mine, a myriad of emotions lurking in those fathomless depths. I could drown in them.
Which would be a pretty shitty way to die, if I’m being completely honest. I met a ghost once who died by drowning, and the girl is still bitter about it to this day. Though I can’t decide if it’s because of how she died or because she died. Semantics.
“These feelings are new to all of us,” Jack begins in a hushed voice. His eyes caress my face, lingering a moment longer on my lips, before he meets my gaze once more. “But you can’t just ignore us, Violet. You can’t shut us out.”
“I…” I don’t know what to say, so instead, I clamp my lips together.
Score one for Violet!
“Please don’t shut us out,” Jack continues, planting a tender kiss to my forehead.
I want to tell him that I’m scared—fucking terrified— that my “feelings” are going to get these men killed. I want to tell him that my heart is a fucking minefield, and no matter how carefully I tread, it always ends up blowing back up in my face.
I don’t.
Instead, I blurt out, “I’m naming the spider Jerry!”
Fuck me.
Chapter 4
Vin
I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in the stiff plastic chair. At the front of the room, Mr. Van Helsing—a distant cousin of mine—rambles about the proper ways to dispose of a wendigo’s body. Set it on fire, and the chemicals on the monster’s skin will cause the flames to become an inferno, capable of destroying entire forests. The best solution? Cut off the head and bury the body ten feet deep. That way, the wendigo isn’t capable of climbing out from underground.
Most of the students are diligently taking notes, but I zone out. I’ve studied this before.
Years ago, actually, when I was just a boy. My grandfather sat down beside me with a heavy tome. Dust particles wafted off the cover as he dropped it onto the table with an audible thud.
“You need to know how to kill every type of monster, boy,” he said, ruffling my hair. “You never know when you’ll have to choose between their life…and yours.”
That was a few years before my grandfather—one of the only people who’d ever truly loved me—was murdered.
I clench my hands into fists as the familiar tendrils of pain and rage wrap around my mind, clouding my vision. Dracula, himself, had been the one to end his life. To rid the world of the last good man capable of differentiating between right and wrong, capable of enacting justice but also offering forgiveness. Another man who had his life snuffed out too soon by the evil in this world.
Vanessa inconspicuously nudges my shoulder, anchoring me back to the here and now. I shoot my twin a grateful look as I hone in on our teacher’s next words.
“…with the current events of the world.” He moves to rest against the edge of his desk, his legs crossed almost indolently. Mr. Van Helsing—Alfred—likes to believe he’s superior to all of us younger hunters. However, if Alfred was a capable hunter at all, he would be on the field, not in the classroom.
No, Alfred Van Helsing is just a sad, pathetic excuse of a man.
“What is your opinion of the vampires on campus?” a petite, non-related hunter asks from the front of the classroom. Abigail or something. I probably should remember, considering I fucked her a year or two ago.
It takes a moment for her words to penetrate the depressive fog in my brain.
Vampires?
My skin prickles as I straighten in my seat. The other hunters aren’t aware of my relationship with Violet. Or lack thereof. If people knew she was my fated mate…
I shake my head vigorously.
No, no one knows the truth. If they did, I wouldn’t be sitting here in class, alive and breathing. They think that I’m offering protection to Violet in exchange for blowjobs, and I’ll be damned if they find out the truth.
Alfred’s face darkens at the female’s question as he drums his fingers on the edge of the desk.
“We’ve been instructed by the new headmaster not to speak poorly of the vamps.” His pursed lips—as if he has eaten something sour—shows exactly what he thinks about that decree.
The new headmaster? Hopefully, this man or woman is better than the last one. I’m still filled with a blinding rage when I think about the old headmaster, a descendant of Wolfman. He had attempted to murder Violet, until Dimitri fucking Gray murdered him. I still don’t know the full story. Violet has refused to talk to me since Halloween, when she spotted me in the room with Cheryl. Nothing fucking happened besides me telling Cheryl I was done with her and her petty games, but I know Violet feels betrayed in a roundabout way.
I did, however, pry Frankie for details. He has been tight-lipped about this entire thing. However, he assured me that the threat has been handled. For now.
“We should kill all the fucking bloodsuckers before they kill us,” a boy exclaims, leaning forward with a vicious glint in his eyes. My muscles are as taut as the strings on a bow, but I will myself not to outwardly react.