Nice, I huff inwardly.
I can’t help but try and learn everything about him. Why is he the way he is? Obviously, he’s been through some tough shit. No one is born a monster, right?
“Stop thinking about it,” Killian says, and I’m ripped out of my thoughts. It’s Monday morning and I still can’t shake the picture of that man hanging in that tree from my mind. I forget sometimes how well Killian can read my thoughts and moods. Even when he hates me, he knows me better than anyone else. We haven’t talked about what happened the other night, when he got tipsy and let his guard down. When he let me comfort him like I used to. Last night he gave me his shirt to sleep in again, but he cuffed me to the bed and slept facing away from me. I hate that I wanted something more from him. I hate that I don’t hate him as much as I tell him I do. He reaches out and grasps my hand in his for just a moment before circling my wrist with his long fingers. It’s not a warm gesture. It’s a power move, staking his claim and putting me on display as his property. I feel so small next to him, the top of my head barely level with his shoulder and my shoulder at the same height as his elbow.
“Do you think it was the same person who left the note?” I ask, and when he lets go of my wrist abruptly, I brace myself, unsure of what’s coming. Relief floods my body when I feel Killian’s hand cup the back of my neck with firm, but gentle pressure. I know it’s not meant to comfort me. It’s meant to show everyone who might be looking our way that I’m off limits. He’s been wearing a scowl since we walked in the doors this morning and nearly biting the heads off of any guy who is unfortunate enough to glance in my direction. He’s on edge, more so than usual, and I have a feeling it has less to do with the threat on Kai and more to do with the fact that he let his guard down around me.
“You stay by me, got it?” He doesn’t answer my question because he’s a Pierce and he doesn’t talk about anything he doesn’t want to. Even though I’m struggling to keep up with his pace, I manage to look up at his quiet demand. I don’t think the Pierce brothers are capable of worrying, but I can hear the alert in his voice, like he’s not willing to take a chance that someone could be targeting me.
“I have class, and so do you.” I huff, but lose my train of thought when his hand finds my ponytail and angles my neck to look up at him. I’m his little puppet, moving any way he wants.
“I will drop you off at class and pick you back up. You don’t leave the classroom without me. Are we clear?” When I glare at him silently, refusing to answer his condescending question, he grips my hair tighter and pulls my face close to his. “Are. We. Clear?”
“Yes,” is all I can get out before the wicked smile pulls at the corner of his lips, satisfied that I submitted to his will.
I let him escort me into class like some overbearing boyfriend because I don’t really want to get into a screaming fight with him in front of my classmates. It feels like I have everyone’s eyes on me as we walk over to my empty desk. I notice the substitute teacher Killian threatened the other day in the hallway is standing awkwardly at the messy desk at the front of the classroom. I avert my eyes. He’s watching me and Killian a little too closely and I don’t want him getting any ideas that he can step in and be the hero. I’ve chosen the villain, and it will never be any different for me.
“Are you going to unpack my bag, too?” I shouldn’t be snipping at Killian with a room full of witnesses, because everyone knows Killian Pierce would set the school on fire and hand the firemen the matches. “You’ve made your point, marked your territory.” I get that I’m part of this now, but that doesn’t mean I have to let him walk all over me. The emotions he sparks inside me are so conflicting that I think I might combust trying to manage them all.
He pushes me down in my chair and stoops down so our eyes are level. He cups my throat in what is a gentle gesture for him, and I hear Faith and her hoard of bitches gasp from somewhere behind me. He doesn’t give a shit, or even seem to notice because his eyes never leave mine.
His voice is low, demanding—a promise. “Don’t make me hurt you, Ava.” He lets go of my throat and wraps my ponytail in his hand as he stands up. He has my head tilted back so far with his tight grip that all I can do is look up into his brooding face. His eyes are raging with anger, regret, want, and I wish that it made me want to run away and never come back. I’ve always run straight into Killian’s storms and let myself get swept away.
“Nobody makes you do anything.” I can’t let him have the last word so easily.
I bite my lip when he tightens his grip on my hair. I’d rather die than show weakness in front of the class. I suppose I get that from him. He leans down, his breath warming my cheek. I expect him to threaten me again, but I’m completely caught off guard when he brushes his lips against mine.
“I’ll see you after class,” he growls, swiping his thumb along my bottom lip before straightening to full height and turning slowly to head out of the
