I hate when people try to tell me what to do. Who the fuck does Dimitri Gray think he is?
“No,” I say with a smug smirk.
His eyes narrow. “No?”
“You heard me. N. O. That spells no, if you’re wondering.” I cross my arms over my chest, mimicking his pose, and I swear his eyes hurl metaphorical daggers at me.
“Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?” He shakes his head ruefully, finally pulling his eyes away from mine. Thank fuck. I had to blink for a good minute now, but I was determined not to lose the unofficial staring contest.
“Why do you have to be a stone-cold asshole?” I retort back. “Speaking of… How did you become headmaster, anyway? Isn’t it kind of taboo to take the job of the man you killed?” When his gaze flickers back up to mine, holding me hostage, I bring my hands up placatingly. “No judgment. You do what you need to do to get that promotion.”
“The monster world considers me a hero,” he says, face devoid of expression. He could’ve been reciting passages from a cookbook with all the excitement he’s emanating. “I stopped the string of murders by killing the evil headmaster who was determined to frame the vampires…and Dracula’s daughter. But alas, I couldn’t get to him before he murdered poor Ms. Stevens.” At the latter statement, he levels me with a pointed look, and I pantomime zipping my lips shut and throwing away the key.
Because Ms. Stevens? Your homegirl stabbed that ho.
“Good for you,” I say, ambling to my feet. “Seriously, good. For. You. Maybe I’ll come visit and give you a congratulations card. Something like, ‘Congrats on your murder and new job.’” I grab my backpack from where I discarded it on the floor and turn towards the door. Before I can make it another step, Dimitri’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, applying just enough pressure to be painful.
“Violet, I can’t allow you to compete in the Roaring.”
Annoyance rots away my previous cheer like a corrosive acid.
“And I already told you,” I begin, spinning back towards the tall and intimidating man. He towers over me, but I don’t feel any fear. As I stare up at the elegant, aristocratic planes of his face, an inherent sense of safety and security ripples through me. “I’m not just competing in the Roaring. I’m winning the Roaring.”
He takes a step even closer, and my heart thunders at his proximity. He’s so fucking beautiful that he should just be euthanized to save all of us females from getting our hearts broken. Or our panties drenched.
“If you do this, I won’t be able to protect you,” he warns, his hands twitching by his sides.
I push up onto my tiptoes and pat his smooth-shaven cheek.
“Fortunately for you, I don’t need your protection.”
With that, I turn on my heel and exit the office.
Fucking Dimitri.
Excuse me, fucking Headmaster Dimitri.
Does the universe have a sick sense of humor?
I’m still fuming by the time I make it to Jack, who is currently pacing. He scrubs at his black hair anxiously before he catches sight of me. Immediately, his eyes light up behind his glasses, and he offers me a timid smile. The expression on his face makes me feel weightless, my worries and aches vanishing. The darkness always nipping at my heels, always percolating in my stomach, dissipates.
“What did he want?” Jack nods in Dimitri’s direction as we exit the front office.
“Sexual favors,” I deadpan, and I have the pleasure of seeing Jack wrestle for control against Hux. “I’m just kidding.” I curl my hand around his bicep, pulling him down the hall faster. “Nah, he just wanted to check in.”
Fortunately, Jack doesn’t prod me for details. It’s just one of the many things I love about him.
Well, not love. Like like.
We have just turned at a fork in the hall when I run face first into someone’s chin. With a curse, I stumble backwards, and Hux—no way that’s Jack—releases an enraged snarl as he catches me.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “That’s on me. I…”
I trail off when I spot who is in front of me, gaping wordlessly.
Frankie’s light brown hair has grown since I last saw him, hanging in disheveled waves across his forehead. His stylish, black-rimmed glasses are askew from our collision, but he doesn’t lift a hand to fix them. Unlike the rest of my men—errr, male friends—he isn’t a chiseled god or a mountain of muscle. But that only makes him seem more real.
More…Frankie.
My heart aches as I stare into his face, noting the yearning and pain emanating back at me. The last time I saw him was over a week ago, when he visited me in my room to tell me we were mates.
Mates.
Fated to be together until the end of time.
I can’t deny the attraction I have towards the usually stoic male. It goes beyond just lust—I can actually picture a future with him.
The problem? I can see that same future with a few other guys.
There’s also the fact that he put my life on the line in order to play hero. He could’ve told me ahead of time about Headmaster Lupine’s wicked scheme. Instead, he bottled it all up inside of him, hoping that the inevitable eruption would spare the two of us. I still remember the knife entering Frankie’s heart. The pain, the horror, the shock… They all battled for dominance as I watched him fall to the ground.
That image assaults me whenever I close my eyes.
“Violet,” Frankie whispers. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jack casting furtive, albeit confused, glances at the two of us.
“Frankie.”
“Can we…?” He scrubs at his jaw, eyes anguished. “Can we talk?”
I mentally inventory myself, ensuring there are no cracks in my armor, before turning towards Jack.
“Can you give us a moment?” I question. He hesitates, no doubt arguing with a protective and possessive Hux, before nodding and walking farther down the hall.
Taking a fortifying breath, I focus my attention once more on Frankie. “Okay, let’s talk.”
Chapter 9
Frankie
I fix things. It’s what I do, who I am. If I see a problem, I work tirelessly until I’m able to uncover a solution. My father covets my analytical brain and dispassionate exterior. In his mind, caring makes you weak. Emotions make you weak.
It’s why he created a monster like me in the first place.
I’ve never dealt with emotions before. Not soul-crushing heartbreak. Not lust. Not love.
But science? I understand science. Molecules and atoms and corrosive solutions. It’s the rest of the world I don’t get.
I’m capable of creating a drug that can make you laugh nonstop, but apparently, I can’t find the words to speak to my mate.
Mate.
Pain ricochets through my body. Is it wrong that I assumed she would be overjoyed by the news? When I first understood the reasons for my feelings—that she was made specifically for me—I wanted to sing it from the rooftops. Confess my feelings to the sun and moon. Violet? She had run.
Taking my entire heart with her.
Focusing on her now, I study the minuscule changes that have occurred in the last week. Same pert nose and luscious lips. Same glimmering eyes, as if she is in the know of a secret. Same petite body with surprisingly generous curves. But…