Page 23 of Kiss the Villain

Shuffling ensues as a tall, broad man walks into class. Everyone heads to their seat, and the girls who were fighting about dibs squeal.

“He’s drop-dead gorgeous,” one of them whispers.

“Lock me up, Your Honor,” the other says, and they giggle like schoolgirls.

Damn hormonal college kids.

I drag my gaze to the professor again and pause.

Because he’s watching me.

Among everyone in the entire lecture hall, his gray, dead, and absolutely disturbing eyes are set on me.

My skin prickles and my wound burns.

Before he even speaks, before he opens his mouth and I confirm my suspicion, a deep premonition slashes through my skin and my demons roar in their pit, devouring each other alive.

His dead gaze remains on me as he says, “Hello, class. My name is Kayden Lockwood, and I’m your criminal law professor.”

4

GARETH

Kayden Lockwood.

That’s the name of the motherfucker who used my mouth to get off last night.

The man who held me at gunpoint, grazed my hand with a bullet, and called me grotesque, a whore, and a useful hole, among other things.

The asshole who humiliated me like no one else has.

I woke up today dead set on revenge, on finding him and making him bleed. I considered striking a deal with Yulian, where I provide him with an invitation to the initiation and he gives me the identity of this motherfucker.

But that’s no longer necessary.

Because the bastard is looking at me.

And I’m finally putting a face to the voice of the man I’ve been fantasizing about stabbing a thousand times.

A sharp jaw, features carved with subtle authority, and jet-black hair that’s cropped tight on the sides but long enough on top to be styled back with ruthless precision. His full, defined lips are set in a cold, impassive line as if he finds this entire ordeal bland. Faint stubble brushes his cheeks, enhancing the rough edge of his quiet confidence.

But what truly gave him away the second I saw him?

The eyes. Still dead and empty, like they’ve seen too much, felt too little. The deepest shade of a storm, rolling, brewing, and heightening with no intention of ever calming down.

His tailored slacks match the color of his eyes, and his white shirt stretches across his chest, clinging to the hard lines of muscle, every inch of it pulling across his body. The fabric strains around his biceps that tighten and flex with every movement like when he fucked my mouth.

When he grabbed my hair, shoved my head against his groin, and came down my throat. He’s now standing in front of me as my professor of criminal law.

Professor. Not a bodyguard as I suspected.

A damnprofessor.

Why was a goddamn professor in the Serpents’ mansion? Holding a gun, wearing Yulian’s mask, and forcing a student to his knees?

The class seems to hold their collective breath at his introduction, the air thick with the weight of his presence. Everyone seems frozen, drawn in by the sheer force of him—his domineering, magnetic energy filling every corner of the hall.

EvenIfeel it, and I’m usually immune to the pull of other people’s auras.

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