“Can’t we talk around witnesses?” I babble as he drags me down the hallway and towards his office. “You know, in case you murder me and hide my body?”
I don’t actually believe he’s going to murder me, but a girl can never be too careful.
“If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.” He turns his head slightly to stare at me with those frosty blue eyes of his. I gulp at the intensity of his gaze before ducking my head in an admittedly submissive move.
When we reach his office, I’m surprised that his secretary is nowhere to be seen. At my curious expression, he states, “I gave Miss Birdy the week off to watch the games.”
“Oh…that’s surprisingly nice of you.” I follow him into his office with only a little trepidation. Again, it’s not because I think he’s going to hurt me, but because everything about Dimitri confuses the shit out of me. He’s the epitome of contradictions—one second, he’s hot, and the next, he’s ice cold. I have no idea where I stand with him and what he even wants from me.
“I’m not a monster, Ms. Dracula,” he purrs, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed and legs extended.
“Technically, we’re all monsters.” I move to sit opposite him, the position allowing him to tower over me. I don’t feel any fear, however. Just safety.
Which is ridiculous, because Dimitri is the most dangerous fucker around and can possibly kill me with his pinkie finger.
And…
Now, I’m imagining my headmaster repeatedly jabbing me with his pinkie finger until I fall to the ground covered in bloody welts.
“I see that you listened to me for once,” he states in his deep, baritone voice that slides through me like whiskey. I know immediately he’s talking about his advice to travel to the hospital.
“Next time you want to help, could you be a little more clear?” I raise a single eyebrow at him, and his face pinches together. “Maybe slide me a note? Send up a smoke signal?”
“That would be cheating.” His frown deepens. “And I’m prohibited by magic to cheat.”
“Then why did you…? Oh.” Understanding causes my eyes to widen slightly. “That’s why you were being all vague and shit.”
“I was being as concise as possible.” His nose scrunches slightly, as if he has smelled something pungent. “I’m just grateful you listened to me.”
My good mood instantly sours as pain spears my chest.
“Barret didn’t make it,” I whisper hoarsely, the agony of that simple statement suffocating me.
“That’s a shame.” Despite his words, Dimitri’s expression remains carefully blank and apathetic. That only exacerbates my rage, and I shoot to my feet with anger tightening my chest.
“You don’t give a shit, do you?” I take a step closer, my pulse skittering at both his proximity and my own anger. “You don’t care that someone died.” It’s not a question.
“People die all the time.” He stares down his nose at me, expression unreadable. “You may not be familiar with death yet, but you’ll have to learn. Death will follow you everywhere, Violet Dracula.”
“Is that a threat?” I ask, my fangs lengthening in response to his words.
“It’s a promise.” His cold eyes ensnare my own, and I’m helpless to look away. “But I also promise to protect you. I’m…” His face twists before settling into a grimace. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“People apologize about death when they have nothing else to say.” This close, his peppermint scent curls around me, warming my body. “But you’re not sorry. Not really. I think…I think you’re happy that he died and not me.” I gauge his reaction carefully, unsurprised to see no change in his expression. Still, I know that to be the truth. Dimitri will not hesitate to let the other men die if it means keeping me safe. But what I need to know is… “Why?”
“Why does the sun rise and fall? Why is the grass green and the sky blue? Why do we all inevitably face death? Why are only some of us granted immortality? Why? That is the question, isn’t it? It’s the only word that encompasses every thought one may possess.”
“Dimitri, don’t fuck around with me.” My teeth are clenched so tightly, I’m afraid I’ll chip them. “I want answers.”
He ducks his head until my entire vision is consumed by him. His heady, distinct scent surrounds me completely, consuming me from the inside out. It’s impossible to turn away from his icy, ethereal beauty—his unattainable beauty, as if he’s some god and I’m a besotted peasant.
“Emotions are fickle things, Violet Dracula,” he says, his voice a decadent treat that I want to devour. “Why is your heart breaking? Why do you feel anxious? It’s because you have emotions. It’s because you care.”
“Are you saying you care about me?” I breathe, though I shouldn’t be surprised. Dimitri has proved to me over and over again that I’m different from the other students. But it all circles back to my original question, “Why?”
Why me?
Why now?
“Maybe you should focus less on what I’m saying…” His finger trails up my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He softly caresses my neck and then my cheek before outlining my lips with the pad of his thumb. “And more on what I’m not saying.”
“I don’t like riddles, Dimitri,” I hiss, just barely holding in my moan. “Use your words like a big boy.”
Dimitri’s eyes harden, and I fear that I pushed him too far, too fast. He leans over me, but I find that I don’t cower away in fear. Instead, I hold his gaze defiantly, watching the ice in his eyes begin to crack.
He leans forward and kisses me.
Maybe “kisses” is too tame of a term. Dimitri devours me as if he’s starving and I’m the only meal available. His lips claim my own ruthlessly and possessively, his teeth biting down on my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. His hands go to my ass and cup both cheeks, pressing me against his straining erection.
Oh. My. Fuck.
I’m making out with Dimitri Gray.
He grabs my hips and lifts me clean off my feet, spinning me around until my ass is on his desk. Throughout it all, his lips don’t leave mine, his tongue tangling with my own.
His hands grab the front of my shirt and rip it down the middle. Immediately, his lips travel to the crest of my breasts revealed above my sports bra, sucking and licking at the sensitive skin.
In that moment, he’s no longer made of ice. He’s completely and utterly fire. Everywhere he touches, I burn.
He pulls down one of my straps, my tit springing free, and wastes no time taking the tip into his mouth. It’s brutal and intense, everything I’ve always known Dimitri Gray to be. He releases my nipple with an audible pop before immediately giving the same treatment to the other one. His tongue circles the sensitive tip but never touches as he stares up at me from beneath his sooty lashes. When I try to reach for him, try to tangle my hands in his white blond hair, he grabs my wrists with a growl.
“No,” he hisses, pushing my hands away and shoving his thumbs into my shorts and panties. He pulls them both down, the material ripping with his agitated movements. With a tenderness contradicting the feral need in his eyes, he drops to his knees between my legs.