Page 49 of Satanic Shadow
I don’t stop until I reach my room, locking the door and hiding under my duvet until I somehow fall asleep.
The same dream comes to me. Fire. Screams. Begging. A flash, and I’m in a diner with a handsome man asking me for waffles.
I wake up in a puddle of sweat and confusion an hour before my class starts.
Within that hour, Dane disregards me four times. I try to approach him in the corridor, but he shrinks into the air and vanishes. I call him, and there’s no answer. I’m not sure if he does it intentionally or he just has no idea how to pick up a call.
He straight up ignores me at breakfast when I tell him he’s acting like a child, and when I attempt to stop him before he escapes into his changing room, he shrugs out of my grip and slams the door in my face.
And now I need to sit through combat training with Valin telling me to square my stance and to not leave myself open. Dane’s attempt at making me his partner—despite everything he’s done to avoid me today—went out the window the second Valin grabbed my arm and stared him down, as if to remind him he was a professor and wouldn’t be overpowered by a student.
Dane had just laughed, so now I’m stuck between Dane scowling at me every few minutes and flinching as Valin comes up behind me and hisses a “good girl” in my ear while turning my hips to the side.
Dane nearly snaps Orsen in half with a blow to the chest, the sound ricocheting off the cave walls. Even without using his powers, Dane’s tight fist is enough to knock Orsen across the arena.
“What the fuck?” he grits, holding his midsection as he tries to get to his feet. “Motherfucker.”
“Pay attention,” is Dane’s response as he walks to him, offering his hand to his friend and yanking him to his feet.
Valin tells everyone to take five minutes since Orsen can barely stand, and I sit down with the twins, a layer of sweat on my skin.
Poppy scowls at her sister. “I told you not to hit my face,” she says, crossing her arms. The red mark under her eye is swelling from Mel’s right hook. “Careful—I might accidentally sleep with Orsen.”
“Go for it. You’ll be greatly disappointed.”
Orsen throws his hands up. “The fuck is everyone’s problem with me?”
Today’s lesson is fist fighting, so bare-knuckle boxing essentially. Honestly, every time I punch Valin, my wrists feel close to snapping. My knuckles are red, the skin close to splitting.
I might as well be smashing my fist into a wall.
Once I drink some water, class resumes. I can feel Dane’s eyes on me, but I ignore him, like he’s been doing to me all day, giving Valin all my attention as he yells at me to guard myself.
I try to go for him, but he slaps me. Actually slaps my cheek. I grit my teeth, glaring. Remembering the way he touched mein my bedroom and nearly made me fail the entire academy, I throw my fist and catch him square in the jaw as hard as I can.
The searing burn across my knuckles comes first, and I silently scream as I cup my hand to my chest. He chuckles, pats my shoulder, and tells the class to get back into their stances.
Valin stands in front of me, looking from me to Dane then back to me. “I would like to warn you about Dane again, but I don’t think you’ll listen.”
I scoff. “After the way you nearly ruined my chance of leaving here? Keep your advice to yourself.”
His jaw hardens. “I’m a professor here.”
“Congratulations.”
My back hits the ground with force as Valin flips me, and all the air whooshes out of my lungs, my vision blurring. I gasp, gripping his wrist as he holds me in place by the throat.
He stares down at me. “Your tongue will get you into bad situations, Miss Winters. I highly recommend you use it wisely.”
The insinuation isn’t lost on me. Neither is the way his eyes dart down to my mouth, to my heaving chest and parted legs beneath him.
An immense wave of rage washes over me, so much anger that I’m not sure how to contain it. Fire. Rage. Pain. I picture Valin in flames and screaming, but in reality, he’s looking down on me like everyone else in this school.
Orsen yells, telling Dane to stop being so brutal.
Valin’s eyes are red, like the blood he drank from that student last night, trying to break me. If I was an immortal with powers, I’d snap him in half.
The hold on my throat goes from tight and gripping to gentle, and he caresses my pulse with a look of desire in his eyes. It feels wrong, so I shove his chest. “Get off me.”
