Page 91 of Every Shade of Shadow

"Look at me, Ana."

I lift my gaze to his, barely suppressing a moan at the raw desire darkening his eyes.

"You've been a naughty girl, haven't you?" His fingers trail down my cheek in a feather-light caress.

"Yes, sir," I breathe. “I’m sorry, sir.”

"I think it's time for your punishment. Take my hands. We’re going on an excursion tonight.

I reach out and take his hands. The moment I do, there’s a heated pulse of energy, a sound like toaster popping, and we’re no longer in the Professor’s chambers.

We’re in a garden.

A thick mist clings to towering vines and colorful blossoms, the air heavy with the scent of exotic flowers.

The Professor starts walking ahead of me, hands behind his back.

“With Hawthorn’s help, I’ve created this space—for pleasure, and purpose. The plants here are dangerous, deadly even.” He gestures to various plants as we walk. “Hemlock, oleander, white snakeroot, lily of the valley, and my personal favorite, Atropa belladonna, otherwise known as nightshade.” His fingers dance around the purplish-black berries. “Rapid heartbeat, dilated pupils, hallucinations, respiratory failure. Nasty stuff, really, but in the right doses…”

We emerge from the garden into a small room not unlike the chambers we’ve already spent so many lessons in.

My pulse races. I'm alone with Darkwood again, in a place no one will find us. Vulnerable. At his mercy.

And part of me thrills at the thought.

But that’s just it.

We’re not alone.

Cassandra stands in the corner of the room, still. I almost didn’t see her at first, jumping back in fright.

I recover from the initial shock, tugging the peacoat tighter around myself.

“Professor?”

Cassandra doesn’t move. She is fixed there, watching. Perfectly still, like some life-size doll. Worse, she’s completely naked, her breasts slighter than I remember, her sex covered in a light smattering of blonde pubis I recall Leo’s cock plunging into.

“Ah, yes,” the Professor smiles, moving over to where she is standing and circling around her as if appreciating a statue, “I thought Cassandra might join us tonight, to observe, but don’t worry, she’s completely petrified.”

“Petrified?”

“Quite.” The Professor’s hand whips up, slapping her hard in the face, but Cassandra barely shifts, even as red begins to bloom on her cheek—even as a sole tear cuts down her face.

“She’s been troublesome, this one, I hear. Mocking you.”

I know Damien has a protective streak, but this is going too far.

“Perhaps you should let her go,” I offer, knowing I’m overstepping, but this seems too cruel even for the Professor.

“No,” the Professor says, standing before her, hands behind his back, “she is going to watch our lesson tonight, every detail, and then she will say not a word about it lest she wish to remain this way permanently, perhaps sent to the shadows for good. And her cruelty towards you, her pettiness? That will also stop because I know secrets about our dear Ms. Thornwood here.” His finger glides over her lips and jealousy stabs at me, hot and fierce. “I know how she dreams about us, her and me, how she strums herself at night thinking about me taking her…fucking her face, her ass. But this is as close as you will get,” he tells her, brushing the tear from her cheek.

He claps his hands together, spinning to face me. “Now, we begin.”

I look to Cassandra. There is no emotion on her face, but I know she’s terrified. Still, what am I supposed to do?

The Professor stops before a large wooden table and pulls me flush against him, desire burning in his eyes.

"Do you know why I've brought you here, Ana?"

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