Page 49 of Spearcrest Prince

“I don’twantto fuck you.” I throw him a glare and angrily grab the nearest piece of clothing, one of his stupid black designer jumpers.

“Oh, yes you do,” he replies. “Petite menteuse. Who’s being proud now?”

I pull his jumper on and storm to his door. “You really are the worst.”

“Still made you come, though.” He rakes me with a look, naked lust in his eyes. “And now you won’t be able to get the thought of me out of your head.”

I wrench his door open and give him the middle finger. “Arrogant asshole!”

“Prideful little witch.” He answers my gesture by blowing me a kiss. “Pense à moi la prochaine fois que tu te touches, mon trésor.”

“Fuck you!” I slam the door on him.

He laughs from behind the door. “Fuck me yourself.”

Onthelastdayof the residential, I ask Miss Godrick if I can take the coach back, and she informs me that there are more than enough spaces. The trip back to Spearcrest is long and uncomfortable, but it’s better than sharing a car with Séverin after everything that happened between us.

As much as I loved the Isle of Skye, with its craggy mountains, misty lakes and windswept moors, I firmly decide to forget all about it. I made mistakes there, which I intend to keep there. Once I return to Spearcrest, I need to focus on my plan and avoid any further mistakes.

I can imagine that’s easier said than done, but I’m determined.

LifeatSpearcrestresumes,cold and grey and bleak but familiar now. I resume my lessons, my quiet afternoons hidden away in the little art studio. Aside from the occasional encounter with Kayana Kilburn, who checks on me and invites me out now and again, I keep myself to myself.

Kay’s kindness is not lost on me, nor does it go unappreciated. I know she’s trying to be nice, trying to make me feel like I belong in Spearcrest. I politely decline all her invitations. Parties and drunk indiscretions are not part of my plan.

I manage to stick to the plan and stay out of trouble for almost two weeks.

Then a voice calls out to me on my way out of art class one afternoon. I’m so startled I almost drop my armful of school books. I spin around.

Séverin is leaning in the doorway of the photography classroom. His shirt sleeves are folded back, his arms crossed, and there’s a dangerous grin on his face.

I turn away quickly.

“Trésor.” There’s a dark warning in his voice. “Don’t make me chase you; you know I will.”

I pause, considering my options. Would Séverin chase me through the corridors of Spearcrest and tackle me to the marble floors in front of everyone?

Probably.

I turn back to him with a sigh.

“Good girl,” he says. “Now come here.”

Although he doesn’t raise his voice, it carries clearly over the bustle of the corridor. A few students look up, wide-eyed, glancing between us. He pierces them with a glare, and they hurry away, a silent reminder of the power he holds in this place.

I obey him reluctantly, approaching him in slow, cautious steps.

“What do you want?”

He gestures impatiently. “Just come.”

I follow him into the classroom, where he leads me to a computer. Rolling the seat towards me, he points to it. “Sit down.”

I drop my pile of schoolbooks and my bag on a desk and do what he says. There’s no point in starting a fight with him, especially now we’re back in his territory. And especially not after what happened last time.

When I’m in the desk chair, he rolls it towards the desk and says, “Right. What do you think?”

I look at the computer screen. A gallery of black and white images awaits my attention. Clicking through them, I immediately recognise the mountains, the lake, the castle ruins, the trees. I look back up at him.

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