Page 17 of Roaring Flames

Images bombard me.

Reid tackling Grayson to the ground in my bedroom, his face distorted in fury.

The sheer possessiveness radiating from his eyes when he stared at me.

The growl that left his lips.

No, I’m equally mad at Reid, just for a different reason.

And what about Grayson? What part does he play in all of this? He’s dating the twins’ sister. Does that mean he’s her mate? Then why did he kiss me? If he knew about this the entire time, I’dneverforgive him. Never.

“I saw you stomping through school.” Ansel winces as he sits upright, and I instantly feel like shit. “You looked upset. I wanted to check in on you.”

“So you’re not a hall monitor prepared to drag my ass to detention?” I tease, though my voice wobbles near the end, betraying my true feelings.

Ansel’s face turns ten shades of red. “Um…” He absently pulls at his shirt collar. “I’m technically off duty?—”

“No fucking way.” Some of my anger dissolves in the face of this new discovery. “Hall monitors are actually a thing? I thought that was just something I saw in shitty pre-teen shows.”

Even sitting down, he manages to lord over me. He has this air of superiority that commands respect, made even more prominent when he pushes out his chest like a preening peacock.

“I’ll have you know that it’s actually an esteemed position?—”

“Do you wear vests?” I quip. “Sashes? Please tell me you have a walkie-talkie.”

Ansel’s cheeks burn crimson. “Shut up.”

“Do you have a weapon? What is it? A ruler that you spank disobedient kids with?”

He gracefully moves to his feet and brushes at a few loose pebbles sticking to his pants. He attempts to tame his hair, butthat lone chocolate strand refuses to cooperate, continuing to flop forward.

With a sigh, he gives up and focuses on me. “If you keep being a brat, then I won’t show you the surprise.”

Something about his words causes a strange heat to spiral through me. Probably being referred to as a brat.

Kinky bitch.

“A surprise?” I take a step closer to him, my curiosity piqued.

His face is still pink, but he manages a tentative smile, some of his earlier bravado fading. “You looked upset. I think I have an idea how to help with that.”

He begins to move towards the parking lot, and after only a moment of hesitation, I follow him.

“The great Ansel is skipping school,” I say in feigned horror. “What would everyone think?”

“That I’ve gone mad,” he mumbles under his breath.

The words are so soft, I’m not sure if he intended for me to hear them.

Even still, I can’t help but say, “That makes two of us.”

He pivots on his heel and extends his hand out for me to take. His fingers are long and graceful, almost as if they belong to a piano player. I can picture them running up and down the ivory keys. And up and down my body…

“What do you say, Isabella Martin? Do you want to skip school and go on an adventure with me today?”

Six

IZZY

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