Page 39 of Made in Malice

I sense him shift, but it’s not far because he drapes himself in the chair right next to me. I don’t look over to watch him sprawl, however I can see his shape in my peripheral. His tattooed knuckles are red and split on the desk, but that’s all I can make out clearly. It’s a chore not to look at his face to see if the wound he had on his head is visible, but my survival instincts must kick in, because I’m able to stop myself from moving a muscle, or maybe I’m frozen. Either way, it works in my favor.

I feel him staring at the side of my face and flinch when I see his hand come up. He makes a deep rumble of a sound in his chest, then turns my head with his fingers dangerously close to the cut on my chin. I wince a little from the surprised pain but recover quickly.

“If it isn’t my little nightingale,” he says, barely moving his lips. My eyes dart up to his hairline, and I see a red, angry gash that probably should have had stitches.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, letting my gaze fall back to his eerie eyes.

“Do you always lie so much?” He narrows his eyes.

“To save my skin? Always,” I admit truthfully.

“I need to speak with you.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

“No.”

“I’m in class.” I turn to look at the stage, hoping the teacher will start class.

“And I’m not asking. You can get up and walk out with me, or I can carry you out.”

I open my mouth to say he wouldn’t dare, but the words die on my tongue, because he would, without question.

“And fair warning.” He leans in really close again, and this time, I feel his lips against the bottom of my ear. I fight the shiver that wants to make me tremble from his warm breath. “If you fight me, I’ll probably enjoy it.”

I shove my chair back from the desk so fast, it scrapes across the floor and makes a screeching sound. Lucian chuckles darkly and licks his bottom lip as I stand. We have the attention of everyone in the room. I don’t know where to look, so I focus on the wall above everyone’s head.

“You’re just full of surprises, nightingale. I can’t tell if I like it better when you defy me or when you listen.”

“Neither, you like neither,” I retort, if only to make myself feel better, but it just makes him laugh harder.

He reaches past me and shoves the door open for me to walk out. I look around the empty hall, wondering what the hell I was thinking coming out here willingly. If I made him carry me out while yelling, maybe the teacher would have notified Rory or something.

“Keep walking,” he instructs, using his body behind mine to keep me moving.

“Where to?” I question, stalling.

Lucian blinks his light blue eyes at me lazily. If I didn’t hate him for being such a jerk, I might think it was sexy, or maybe scary, but it’s something to see. “That way.” He nods his head down the hall, toward the Union.

I sidestep him and walk in that direction. At least there will be people around.

Right before I pass the stairs, he drops his arm in front of me, grabbing a hold of the handrail of the stairs and barring me from going farther. “Up,” he demands.

“And if I say no?”

He stares down at me, his eyes nearly as wild as they were Saturday night when I ran from him. “Same rules. You walk your pretty little ass up there, or I will carry you.”

“My butt isn’t little enough for you to carry up there,” I argue, aggravated with him and myself that my heart did something funny when he called me pretty.

“Try me.” He tilts his head to the side, and suddenly, I feel more like prey as realization dawns. He does like this in some weird way.

He must know the second I back down, because he eases out of my space and allows me to walk ahead of him, but he’s practically on my heels all the way up to the third floor, where I step quickly to the side, keeping away from the railing in case he wants to push me over.

His light eyes go to my chest as I try to hide the fact that I’m heaving. He, however, isn’t even breathing hard.

When he starts to walk toward me, I back up, matching his steps to keep distance between us. When I bump into someone else, I realize I stepped right into his trap. Hands wrap gently over my upper arms, and Lucian says, “You’re scaring her,” but his mouth never moves.

I look up and over my shoulder and nearly scream as I jerk myself away. How the hell can he be in front of me and behind me?

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