Page 26 of Hunted By Valentine

Now, she’s dressed in dark blue jeans, chunky-heeled ankle boots, and a gray button-down shirt. Her hair is pulled back in a loose knot, and her makeup is minimal but sharp. She blends in effortlessly, as though she’s part of the scenery.

It takes me a while before I notice the red tint to her cheek. It’s subtle, muted by her makeup, but I see it. Anger erupts inside me as I realize that Michael has broken our agreement and put his hands on her.

I take a slow breath, forcing myself to focus. There’s a class to run, after all. “Today,” I say, my voice cutting through the quiet murmurs in the room, “we’ll be conducting an exercise.”

Picking up a stack of folders from my desk, I hand them to the first row of students so they can pass them along.

“Inside, you’ll find a case study about an arsonist who burned down several buildings with calculated precision.”

“Is this a real case?” Miss Dawn asks, her voice laced with curiosity, though her interest barely masks the arrogance beneath.

Shrugging, I reply, “That’s not important. Today, your job is to analyze it.”

I divide the class into two groups—one tasked with arguing that the arsonist acted rationally, driven by intent, while the other must argue that madness and chaos fueled the crimes. Ruby, unsurprisingly, is placed on the pro side, defending the arsonist’s motivations. Miss Dawn, with her biting tongue and shallow insight, becomes her opponent.

“You have two hours,” I announce, watching as the groups begin their work. “Time starts now.”

I take a step back, my gaze fixed on Ruby’s group, who have gathered at the center of the room. Her brow furrows slightly as she speaks to her team while her fingers tap rhythmically against the desk, a small tell that betrays the nervous energy she’s trying to suppress.

I watch the way her lips move as she explains her point, the quiet way her voice commands attention without forcing it. Again, I’m reminded of the difference in the way she carries herself now—a confidence I haven’t seen before.

But more than that, there’s a fire behind her eyes, a spark of something raw and dangerous. It’s almost as though she’s finally reached a decision about something, and answered a question only she knows about.

The longer I watch her, the more something inside me stirs.

It’s unsettling, this pull she has over me. I feel it building within me—a frustration, a tension between the control I’ve always held and the undeniable attraction I now feel. It gnaws at me like an insatiable hunger.

Before I know it, I’m leaving the classroom, slipping out without a word. My feet carry me down the hall to the staff bathroom, the door clicking shut behind me as I lock it with a deliberate twist of the key. My hands grip the edge of the sink, my eyes boring into my reflection, searching for some trace of control.

I’ve always been in control—of my thoughts, my actions, my urges. But today… today, I feel that slipping away.

The image of her burns in my mind. Ruby, with her sharp gaze, her body moving with that quiet confidence, the way her voice pulls at me like a string being wound tighter and tighter. It sickens me how much I want her, how much my body reacts to just the thought of her.

I close my eyes, but that only makes it worse. Her image fills the darkness behind my eyelids. The sway of her hips, the fire in her eyes, the heat in her voice. I feel her power over me, and it claws at my insides, turning the desire into something more dangerous.

I’m hard… like a fucking adolescent, I have a painful erection at school.

My hands move, fingers fumbling with my belt. The leather slips through the loops, and I rip it open, the sound echoing in the small room.

My length juts out, hard and throbbing, my body’s betrayal hanging in the air like a weight. My hand trembles, hovering over the swollen flesh. I want—no; I need to take care of it. Right here. Right now.

Despite the need I feel, I don’t. Instead, I curl my fingers into fists, nails biting into my palms as I force her out of my mind.

I think of death. Of blood and pain. Of the lives I’ve taken with these same hands. Slowly, painfully, I regain control, the sharp sting of arousal fading, leaving only the remnants of my weakness behind.

But the damage is done.

She’s under my skin now, woven into the very fabric of my thoughts, and I hate her for it.

Once I’m done in the bathroom, I go to the cafeteria and get myself a cup of coffee, which I finish before ordering a second one. By the time I return to the classroom, I’ve buried the evidence of my momentary lapse.

Luckily, the students are focused, still discussing their arguments, oblivious to the war waging within me. Hell, they probably don’t even know I left.

I give them a brief break to prepare for the debate, rearranging the room as I watch Ruby. Her confidence is still there, but I see the cracks beneath it. Her mask is slipping, and I intend to shatter it completely.

Both she and Miss Dawn have stayed behind, so I wave them up to me. “I want the two of you to stand here during the debate. It’s important that everyone can see you clearly.”

I pretend not to notice the way Ruby cringes slightly at the mention of the attention she’s about to be subjected to. She even grips the cuffs of her shirt to stop them from riding up her arms. Miss Dawn, however, tosses her long hair over her shoulder and beams like she’s excited to be the center of attention.

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