Page 6 of Forbidden Lessons

EFFECT

He draws another line under that, and then scrawls

Prof Rooke - Lessons in Cruelty

I breathe out a slow breath through pursed lips.

Thank Lucifer.

“For the lady who’s so fashionably late, she even missed yesterday’s class.” Professor Rooke taps his chalk against his name, staring straight at me. “I don’t enjoy repeating myself, which you’d know if you bothered to show up yesterday.”

“Sorry,” I call out. “My phone died, so I only got the text?—”

He cuts me off with a deadpan, “I doubt a first year can come up with an excuse I haven’t heard before, so don’t even try.”

He sweeps his hand to the cluster of students sitting in front of the lectern, raising his eyebrows. “I also don’t like to shout.”

I scramble up and pick my way through the empty seats to where he pointed. A girl around my age with a sleek red bob glances at me, but she must keep her flawless face in the freezer overnight because not a muscle moves, even after I give her a timid smile.

My eyes dart back to the lecture room door. I can still feel Kai’s hand between my shoulders, shoving me inside.

you’re not staying

What the actual fuck was that all about? I’ve seen Kai on a bad day. Like a really, really bad day. And this came nowhere close. What the hell’s happened to him? Is he on crack?

Professor Rooke’s voice demands my attention return to him, and I do my best tokeepit on him.

“What is cruelty?”

His eyebrows shift up when the class remains silent.

“Oh, come on. No one’s going to pass off a Merriam-Webster definition they’ve quickly googled on their phones? I’m shocked,” he says dryly, as he picks up a paper coffee cup from the corner of the desk near the lectern.

There’s a satchel thrown haphazardly over the table, a neat stack of A5 spiral-bound notebooks, and a laptop neatly positioned in front of a chair behind the desk.

He takes a slow sip from his coffee cup, taking his time to scan his class before his gaze reaches me. This close, I can see dark irises, specks of silver in his closely cropped beard, veins standing proud from the back of his pale hands.

“Is it cruel of me to enjoy this cup of warm, rich coffee in front of all you woefully un-caffeinated students so early in the morning?” He addresses everyone in class, but those eyes remain fixed on me.

I swallow hard. “Um…I guess not. We could have had coffee if we wanted?”

“You don’t sound very sure,” he says, taking another slow sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “It’s almost like you traveled back in time to yesterday’s lesson when I told my students that I don’t allow any eating or drinking in my class.”

There’s a snicker somewhere in the back of the class, sending a flush of heat up my neck.

“Then yeah, that’s pretty fucking cruel,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. When I hear myself swearing, I squeeze my eyes closed and murmur, “Shit.”

Rooke drums his fingers against the side of his cup. “If I didn’t have that rule, would you still feel the same way?”

I glance away as I shrug, refusing to be drawn into another trick question, but I can still feel his eyes on me. I lick my lips, trying to force my brain to figure out an answer, but thankfully the door swinging open diverts Professor Rooke’s attention.

My heart sinks into my chest.

He’s back.

I quickly pat my face, making sure I wiped all his spit off.

What the hell is he doing in this class, anyway? He must be a senior by now. Unless he got held back a few years.

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