Page 5 of Bloody Valentine

The man spun around but paused. “But. Your painting?”

“Consider it a gift.”

His eyes widened, and he scurried off.

This kid had strength in him that he didn’t realize. I was going to tap into that and either help him rise or destroy him in the process.

Chapter two

“Ghost stories? Don’t be ridiculous.” I snorted at the student in front of me.

I may be weirdly connected to the history of these creepy gothic grounds, but I sure as hell wasn’t believing my dead, great-great-great-something grandmother roamed the halls as a spirit. I loved a haunting story as much as the next girl, but it was too cliche. Ghosts of the women murdered on the grounds of the university?

No. Just no.

“But your name is Vivian Valentine!” the nerd in front of me said before we were shushed. Libraries were not exactly known for chatting, but apparently, writing my name on an assignment was enough to disrupt some unseen balance within the nerd society.

Four people were now standing around, staring at me with bug eyes as I sat in my seat. I wanted to use my book as a shield.

“Vivianna Valentine was the St. Valentine’s wife!” another said again, followed by a crescendo of hushing. “Legend says he murdered her on Valentine’s Day all those years ago, and his friends followed in his footsteps, stabbing their wives, too. It is said that their bones are under the university itself.”

I grimaced. “Ew. That’s dark. But look, dude…I didn’t ask to be related to a freak who supposedly murdered everyone or a poor wife who just loved the wrong man!”

Those shushers glared at me now, and I lowered my voice. “I just want to get the free tuition and learn how to become the best journalist I can be. Is that too much to ask?”

“Do you think you deserve special privilege?” another student spoke up.

“Tu es sanguis meus,” a whispered voice in the air murmured.

Freaked out by the sudden chill in the air, I looked around.

Were these morons trying to scare me?

This prank wasn’t funny. I stood up and grabbed my bag from the chair, turning to quickly get the fuck away from them.

Before I realized anyone was in my path, I walked forward, smashing into a hard-rigged body. I fell onto the ground so fast my head spun. Disoriented, I looked up to see a man with blue eyes, light brown hair, and a smug ass look on his face.

He was dressed differently than a lot of the guys I had seen here. He had a button-up the same as everyone else and slacks on but no blazer. He looked older than the boys I had come across. Mature even, but not grandpa state.

His arms were practically breaking through the seams of his damn shirt, and I cursed myself for wishing that some of those buttons would pop off.

“Mind watching where you’re going, dickhead? Who the fuck do you think you are?” I said from the ground.

He stopped and looked down at me with a smirk, curiosity painting his beautiful features. It was dead silent now, no hushing students at my outburst. I felt a weird sense of foreboding at that, even more than the intrigue in the man’s eyes.

I waited for him to help me up from the floor, but he just stared at me with amusement before walking right over my legs and leaving the library. With his exit, all the people in the space erupted into whispers, and one of the nerds rushed over to help me up.

“Are you crazy?” she hissed, her look of pure panic evident.

She twirled her fingers in her pigtails and looked over to the doorway as if to ensure the man did not return before she spoke.

“That isMaddoxValentine,” she said. “He is a direct descendant of St. Valentine, like you! And he pretty much owns this school.”

I looked after the man, understanding the arrogance oozing off every gorgeous pore now.

So that asshole owned the murder castle, huh?

“Did his parents forget to teach him manners when they showered him with money and power?”

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