Page 51 of Spearcrest Prince

“Sure.” I scramble off my chair, grab my things and make my escape before he can say anything else.

As relieved as I am that he seems to be completely ignoring what happened the last time we saw each other, I don’t quite trust it.

Because everything with him feels like some twisted, perverse game. Because Séverin is someone who’s proven himself to be just as prone to violence as he is to courtesy, aggression as he is to sweetness. Even when he went down on me on his bed, it seemed to be an act of mixed desire and defiance, domination and tenderness.

Being around him throws me off-balance, like walking in quicksand. I don’t trust him but, more than that, I don’t trust myself when I’m around him.

Hopefully, he’ll stand me up at the library tomorrow, and I’ll be free to work on the assignment on my own, at a safe distance from him. If we keep each other at arm’s length, I might actually stand a chance at making it through the year with minimal damage.

That night, I get a text from Noël.

Noël: How are things going with theRoi Soleil?

I bite the inside of my cheeks, debating what to answer. I decide to go for the truth, though not in its complete form.

Anaïs: Surprisingly well.

He sends a shocked emoji, then a text.

Noël: You’re not falling in love, are you?

My heart skips a beat. For a second, I feel almost disoriented. I’m not falling for Sev, but I also don’t completely hate him. Even after everything that’s happened. I send Noël the green-faced emoji.

Anaïs: Obviously not.”

Noël: Just checking. Remember the plan,ma p’tite étoile.

Anaïs: I remember.

Chapter 19

La Pièce de Résistance

Séverin

TheSpearcrestlibraryisthe most renowned part of campus. It’s over a hundred years old, enormous and ornate. Inside, everything gleams and glows like warm gold.

It’s not a place I spend a lot of time in. Being surrounded by self-satisfied try-hards isn’t exactly my idea of a good time. This is the kind of place where people like Sophie Sutton, the prefect Evan’s obsessed with, spend all their time. People like Zach and his Theodora, who probably have all sorts of arguments in hushed tones amongst old tomes.

I can’t think of anything worse than bumping into any of them.

Still, when I reach the top floor where I told Anaïs to meet me, I can’t help the surge of pleasure warming my chest. After what happened on the trip, I half-expected her to find an excuse to avoid meeting me, but there she is, sitting cross-legged on her chair like a little goblin, her sketchbook propped on the desk, her laptop open. She’s wearing a baggy hoodie over her uniform.

It reminds me of the hoodie I peeled off her that night when I finally got to see the colour of her nipples and taste her pussy. I still have that hoodie—her shorts, too. I keep them in my drawer like a prize, a trophy.

Part of me hopes she’ll come and claim them.

Any excuse to lure her back into my room.

I draw a deep breath to calm myself down and tiptoe across the wooden floor. Anaïs always puts me in the mood for mischief, for playing games. For other things, too… Sneaking up behind her, I wrap my hands around her neck and whisper in her ear. “Boo.”

“Oh no,” she sing-songs, “a sadomasochist ghost!”

I give her neck a little squeeze and let go with some reluctance. “There’s not a sadomasochist bone in my body, trésor.”

She looks up as I pull up the seat next to hers. She points at the faint bite mark on her cheek. “This feels pretty sadomasochistic.”

“It was self-defence. You hit me first.”

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