Page 55 of His To Claim

I ignore Ace’s broody attitude as Macallan goes on about the monologue we have to write for our first assignment. His class is run a bit unorthodox with two quarterly assignments, instead of weekly. Since we are focusing on Romanticism and are analyzing the awareness of emotions in the literature of that time, the first assignment will be a soliloquy, a type of monologue which reveals our inner thoughts, dedicated to someone we have either lost, loved, or hated. So many emotions rush through my mind at the mention of those three simple words. I glance up to look at Ace and find his eyes glued to mine. I quickly turn away and get back to typing out the details of our assignment.

After about an hour, Macallan comes over to stand by Ace’s desk, his arms crossed, a deep scowl upon his face. He lowers down until he’s at level with Ace, and I turn away pretending I’m not eavesdropping on their conversation. The class is talking amongst each other so it’s difficult for me to catch everything. But I can faintly hear their words.

“He won’t like it if you get distracted,” Macallan whispers to him, an air of seriousness in his tone.

“There is no distraction,” Ace answers back, and I can sense them look up at me, but I continue to act as if I don’t have a clue. I talk to the kid seated in front of me asking him what he is going to write about. He goes on about how he lost a pet ferret when he was five and hasn’t been able to own another pet since. Suddenly my fucked-up commitment issues seem minuscule.

“The girl,” Macallan continues.

“She’s nobody, nothing. Just a parentless bitch with a chip on her shoulder and an attitude problem.”

At his words, the bell rings and I pack my stuff and head out of the room, hating myself for feeling even an ounce of pain at his words.

The rest of the morning zooms by and I ignore Ace for the rest of our classes before lunch. As soon as the bell rings signaling it’s lunchtime, I storm out of the room making it almost down to the end of the hall before two hands grip my waist and carry me into an adjacent, now empty Chem Lab. He closes the door, locking it before putting me down and pinning me against the door with his body.

“Fuck,” I yelp, biting down on my bottom lip to muffle my scream as my back’s slammed against the hard metal knob.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re rushing off to, Red?” he sneers, his deep raspy voice sending an electrifying shiver through me. His breath is hot and thick as he relentlessly breathes across my neck. Instead of pushing him off like I always have, I stand motionless.

I don’t have the energy to fight him on this today. Not after the argument I had with Drake over him, not after the incident that is probably going to cost Drake a lot of trouble. I’ve seen the power he holds against me, the power he has over all of us lowly beings. His right hand grips my waist, his fingers digging into my skin as his left hand pins my two arms above my head. It’s infuriatingand slightly painful, but I bite my tongue and stand motionless.

“Fuck off,” I whisper, slightly out of breath. He bites down on his lip clearly turned on by the sound of my breathy voice as his cock pushes against my heated center. I look straight into his eyes, they’re hooded, and dark gray with just a small speckle of blue in the left corner.

“Fight me,” he says, but it sounds more like a plea.

“I’m tired of fighting. What’s the point? You do with me as you please. Your uncle has made it crystal clear that I have no power here. Just a parentless bitch with a chip on her shoulder and an attitude problem.” I throw his words back at him. “So why fight it? Why fight him, why fight you?” I close my eyes before I do something stupid like kiss him in the heat of the moment, and I feel his forehead land against mine, his grip on me tightening.

“What are you doing to me?” he whispers, his lips almost touching mine, and it’s as genuine as anything I’ve ever heard him say.

I open my eyes, slowly looking up into his once more. They’ve softened since earlier, a glimmer of lust, confusion, and worst of all sorrow.

“I’m not doing anything,” I reply only because I have nothing else to say.

“Since the moment you stepped foot on these grounds, you’ve become a problem. An obsession to those around you. To me.”

His honesty shocks me, and I stand there motionless and speechless.

“I’ve done nothing,” I answer back softly.

“You exist, that’s enough.” He licks his lips running his tongue against my bare neck, his hand making its way up and around my back. “An angel with the mouth of a devil. A devil with the eyes of an angel. A dream come to life, a nightmare I don’t want to wake up from.”

His tongue continues its path along my collarbone and throughthe small opening of my blouse. I speak, causing him to bring his attention back to my lips.

“You’re a king, a cruel Horseman. You shouldn’t be troubled with the likes of me.”

“Red, I’m no angel,” he whispers softly against them.

“Didn’t say you were. You’re the devil in disguise. A cool, beautiful exterior casting a shadow on your ruthless interior. A fool’s blind spot. But you can’t fool me. All those phony words, and useless feelings you mentioned having, I don’t buy it, not for a second. I know you better than you think. You act as if the world you’ve been forced to live in corrupted you. As if you unknowingly follow orders, but you’re one and the same with him. Two men cut from the same flaming cloth. Two sinners who disguise themselves as saints to avoid damnation. But I see it. Maybe it takes one to see one.”

“You’re no devil,” he says, bringing a hand up to caress my cheek. I lean into his palm, tilting my head up to look into his eyes. “On the contrary, you’re the worst kind, a mortal. You wear your sins on the outside, a dress made of your scars, your deepest and darkest desires. But, baby, let me remind you of one thing,” he adds, licking his lips, bringing them gently against mine, and grazing them lightly with his tongue. “You’re in my house now, and here I’ll be your only salvation. Welcome to hell on earth, my darling.”

Nineteen

ACE

She’s become my new obsession. My first thought in the morning, a constant reminder throughout the day, and a recurring dream I don’t want to wake up from. An angel with the mouth of a devil. A devil with the eyes of an angel. A figment of my imagination. A fixation of my psyche. Everything about her taunts me, haunts me, and makes me crave her.

The plea in her eyes makes me pull back as I drop my hands to my side, setting her free from the fortified cage I’ve created around her. She closes her eyes, exhaling a breath I don’t think she even knew she was holding in. I pull back further, giving her the space she’s so desperately asking for to walk away and she does. Without turning back to me, she walks out of the room and disappears within the crowd.

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