Page 12 of Bloody Valentine

“What I also heard is you have been stalking me. How cute.”

I blushed harder.

Shit.

Rule number one of journalism was not to let your fucking opponent know what you knew. Never reveal the cards in your hand so that you could play your hand against them.

I held the lipstick in my grip, shaking slightly at his scrutiny. He was walking around me now, eyeing me up and down like he was memorizing every inch of my body. Before I knew what was happening, the snake struck.

One minute, I was standing in the center of the room by the easel. The next, I was pinned against the wall by the tall, cruel man in front of me.

He grabbed the lipstick from my hand, pulling it free and staring at it with intrigue.

“What did you intend to do with this, Little Virgin?” he said as he moved my hair away from my shoulder and toyed with my tie.

“I-I…This was a mistake. Let me go.”

“No, no.” The professor tsked. “I asked a question, and I expect an answer.”

“You are not my fucking professor anymore!” I growled, yanking away from his grip. “Let me go.”

He raised his brows.

“Oh? Why? You didn’t like my drawing? How sad,” he mocked.

I scoffed. “You are a real fucking creep.”

Professor Valentine laughed, and my body vibrated deeply with his vibrato.

“So,” he said, a dangerous look entering his eyes. “You mean to tell me that you are just another ordinary female inside my classroom?”

I stiffened, unsure how that should matter.

“I…” I didn’t know what to say.

He pulled my tie from my neck, and the action caused me to fly forward into his arms. The fabric ripped, and my sound of surprise was cut off when he stuffed my lips with the material.

“Shh, Little Virgin. You have such a filthy mouth. It is so much better when you’re silent.”

I struggled against him, but his grip on my body was like iron. His other hand pushed my blazer off, leaving me in my button-down. Genuine fear coursed through me. He couldn’t be about to…

“Please…” I mumbled through the tie.

He snickered. “Oh, hush child. I am just checking my work. Be still.”

His work? There is no way he could have drawn me naked. How would he know so much about my body? No one knew because no one besides myself had ever witnessed it.

This man shoved me hard toward his office, and a feeling of dread spread through me. He pushed me through the door and grabbed a yardstick from the long desk inside.

The space had kilns and featured art hung on the walls. It was his own little world, and he just threw me in here to be what? A part of his fucked up collection?

I struggled again.

“I said be still, woman. If I need to, I will tie you down. But we wouldn’t want that pretty pale skin of yours to have marks, now would we?”

I froze, and he slowly let me go. Spitting out the gag, the freedom to breathe rushed into my lungs, and I worked fast, dodging him and aiming for the door. He caught me in one swift motion, and I was thrown back so hard into the wall that I felt dizzy.

“Ow…” I said in a daze. I saw his cruel face three times as the images warbled in front of me as I was dragged to…

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