Page 8 of Hunted By Valentine

“Today, we’ll explore what motivates a person to deviate from societal norms, to commit acts that defy our basic moral codes.” His gaze never wavers, and there’s something predatory in the way he holds my attention.

I glance at the other students, but they seem oblivious to the undercurrents in his words. Am I the only one who feels this? Who sees the hidden layers in his lecture?

“Each of you will come to understand that beneath the façade of civilization, we all have the capacity for transgression. It’s woven into our very DNA,” Valentine says.

My heart pounds in response, echoing his every word. Is he talking about criminality, or is he talking about himself? About me? His presence fills the room, suffocating and inescapable.

“Isn’t it, Mrs. Simmons?” His sudden focus on me startles a gasp from my lips. I still don’t know how he knows my name already, but I know better than to ask. He probably has it on a list somewhere.

“Y-yes, Professor Grant,” I stammer, feeling every eye in the room pivot to me.

“Tell me, what do you believe drives a person to cross that line?” he asks, the corners of his mouth lifting in what could be a smile—or a challenge.

Why is he asking me? Is it because I’m late, or does he know who I am? No, of course he doesn’t. I mentally scold myself. This is probably completely random. I swallow hard, trying to quell the tremor in my voice. “I… I think it’s circumstantial. A combination of environment, psychology, and… perhaps an inherent flaw within us.”

“Ah, so you’re suggesting there’s a shadow within each of us, waiting for the right moment to emerge?” He leans back against the desk, crossing his arms, and I feel like a deer caught in the sights of a hunter.

“Perhaps,” I reply, my own curiosity piqued despite myself.

“Interesting perspective.” He nods, approval or amusement flickering in those dark depths. “We’ll see if you still feel the same when you’re done.”

As he turns away, I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. But the tension doesn’t leave me—it coils tighter, anticipation threading through my veins. He didn’t say at the end of the course, or at the end of the semester. He said… when I’m done. What does that even mean?

Chapter 5

The Prey

On day three, I once again arrive early according to my watch, but with everyone else already in class, and Valentine busy talking, I appear late. I don’t get it. Once more, I take the seat in the front row, the chair empty as though it was just waiting for me.

During class, Valentine’s gaze lingers on me like a ghostly touch. I glance up from my textbook, catch his eyes—dark and deep as an abyss—before I wrench mine away, heart hammering with an emotion I can’t name.

Today, the fifth day, I arrive ten minutes earlier than the other times, but I’m still late… somehow. I really need to ask one of the other students how his classes work because clearly I don’t get it. And this is exactly the kind of thing that would embarrass Michael, which, in turn, would make him punish me.

Coldness slivers down my spine at the thought. I’ll do anything to avoid any of my husband’s punishments, even showing up at the crack of dawn if I have to.

Try as I might, there’s no way I can concentrate on today’s lecture. Valentine’s presence is a magnetic pull I struggle to resist. When class ends, I linger, contemplating if I should ask when to arrive for the next class,but when his gaze finds mine, I chicken out. I don’t think Valentine and Michael know each other, but I won’t risk looking incompetent if they do.

I reach for my bag, my fingers fumble, and my notebook slips, thudding to the floor. Bending down, I retrieve it, and when I rise, I’m ensnared by Valentine’s dark orbs.

For a heartbeat, our eyes lock—an electric current zips through me, igniting something nameless inside me. My lips part as though I’m about to speak, but I have no words. Neither of us speaks, and when I try to pull myself away, I’m unable to. It’s like… like he’s keeping me in place with his eyes alone. My breath hitches, and my palms grow clammy. Normally, those things would be a sign of discomfort, maybe even fear. But with Valentine… it isn’t.

“Clumsy today, aren’t we?” Valentine’s tone teases from across the room, and I’m surprised by the flicker of humor in his otherwise stoic demeanor.

“I… I…” What the hell is going on? “Seems so,” I finally manage, my throat so dry my voice comes out hoarse. Every cell in my body is acutely aware of him, a predator lying in wait.

Shaking my head at myself and my lack of confidence, I grab the book and rush out of the classroom.

Normally, I’m only this subdued around Michael, and even that is only outwardly. Mentally, I scream and cuss at him, tell him all the ways I want to end his miserable life. If I’m completely honest with myself, I think it’s because of Jack being shot.

The curse of three heirs has always seemed more like a twisted tale than reality, though after my brother actually died, it’s become very real. Sure, he was brought back to life, but hestilldied. Left this earth, if only for a short while. And that has shifted something inside me. IknowI will be the next one to die,knowI’m living on borrowed time.

Theweek winds down, and with each passing day, the game—because that’s what it must be—intensifies. The glances grow more charged; the air crackles with unspoken words, and the space between us thrums with… something. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s definitely something potent.

At least that’s how it is for me, however, judging by the borderline bored expression on Valentine’s face half the time, there’s a very good possibility I’m making all of this up. My mind reaches for something that doesn’t even exist, or maybe it’s just one-sided.

Shit, I don’t even know anymore.

All I know is that despite Michael wanting me to seduce my professor, there hasn’t even been an opening or opportunity to do so. And somehow, I don’t think Valentine would welcome it.

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